Where the walls close in,
That rock between hard
Hearts,
Shaping and molding,
Between the forgers fire
And the metals heavy memory,
Short of the total éclipse
In a ring of your presence,
There i am,
There I remain,
Dont need to feel a thing
Because in the good and the bad,
The morning kiss
And the lonely couch at night,
The poetry u spoke
And the things we never said,
The life is not life after the story
Of us,
I stay,
Loving you and regretting nothing,
Regretting everything.

It was when I chased a dream
Eyes wide open,
And the dream never dies,
Seeing the best when
Its gone,
Feeling the drops against my
Face coarsing my cheek
Like her beloved fingers,
Feeling with my heart and mind
After the loss,
When the morning smells
Of coffee in some store on some
Broken road when
home hits hardest,
That all the moments,
Every tiny bit and pièce
I took for granted never
Left me,
But live on in some dark corner
Of the universe where stars
Are born,
And I am alive between
The spaces.

I belong to no one,
Slave to the moment
And my spirit is a devastation
Of freedom,
Keeper of the lost nocturnal,
I dwell within the despair
Of a melancholic grace,
The beauty of a depressed
Soul can measure beauty
With a grateful clarity.

Take me away from this ignorance
And show me the truth;
**** the words of nothing
And show me a humble poetry,
Be that I am lucky for this
Life,
I know there is more than
The conscious dreams,
A place without ironical
Pressures
And no socialistic grading,
I will never be a man,
And I am thankful for that.

Drink the blood of this ink,
Die to the lies
And become alone,
There u will find me
And all the others
Whose death was the beginning.

To die of life
Is to be reborn.

Crystalline flows
Upon trenches ruby
Red,
Take the hand diamond
Rough,
It is only time that passes,
The soul is a cavernous drum
Beating the glorified
Fire,
Pulsating waters
Among oaken palaces
And withered nights,
It is the elemental nature
Of the poet
that brings the
Memory
Of dead stars.

So i take into my senses
The passion of your forbidden,
And the journey of
Nocturnes under pale
Lumen began:

Insertion,
Power between two
And one is all that remains.
Kiss the sky,
Feel thé embers burn under
The palms désire,
There in that secret place-
A release; fluidity,
Half moon lit
The arc of her back,
Luminosity,
A constellated passion;
A taste for life,
The delectable night....

Who am I now that Im living?
Feel the crowd in
A lonely room,
Reality is just a dream away:

Fall upon the knife
And cut the eternal
Moment.

When are you going to see
That all I do is love
And the intention is pure?

All the world's a blur,
Only the poem is real.

And I need to find myself
While searching for you,
And where the hell are you?

A soul id twilight's gaze,
The fool becomes a martyr.

Telling me what I am and
What I should be,
Who are you anyway?

Take the Word,
Already spoken,
All that is left
Is to live.

But the expectations
Wreak havoc on the reality,
All i found i had was myself
And my arms pushing
Away in all directions.
I walked
Along the river brook
Amongst golden whispered waves
And they spoke memory.
Talk to me mystery,
For the tongues of men
I cannot comprehend.

From within the screams
Of silence
Every wall shadowed.
      I am the eternity
Of my moment,
    Alone with nobody,
Come,
   Maybe the words will set
Me free,
And the void is a deep cloud.
   A walk in the mist,
There you will find me
Lost, finding all the questions.

What say you of me?
Am I just a liar without
Metaphoric excuses?

He wears a lie upon the chest,
Key in the light opening the
Dark truth,
Stipulations of knowing.

And I am what I am,
Not what I was.
Though we should never forget
From whenst we came,
We were there once but never
Again the same.
The curse of time is
Not time but the fulfillment
Of it.

Flesh of words,
Truth of waters,
Around the rocks;
Eroding.

So it comes to this,
Im alive too.
Yes, but Im Ded,
I apologise Hellopoetry
For my misleading ways,
Lies, and attention seeking
Behaviour.

He is revealed,
Words flowed hopeful,
Hopeless ;
Shaping,
Misshaping,
An architectural verbiage:
Yes, A Poet,
And I am Ded inside.


Poet's reality,
Worse than the lie,
The words became a world.

With the light down
From the daily round,
And eyes closed to see
Within the soul,

Your image luminous
Me,
           The dawn of you
Is enormous,
       The flower
Inside the nocturne,
     I am blinded
By your light,
      Feeding your flower

Darkly in a dance under shadows.....

Some say Im moody,
Others still call me a bi polar
Twisted with devil's advocacy;

I call it dealing with your B.S.

Ive never rushed to death,
Under a cylinder scope
A peek into the surreal:

A dance of shadows
Filleted by burnt light,
Across the portico
Under the middays thought
A girl under my eyes
Holds the glare of our only
Star;

The nocturne and his ways
Mysterious like a woman's
Touch of lips,
Kiss the sky under
The constellated passions
And in the moment....
A girl!
A man sees the destiny's
Plow through fields
Of the grained aches past gone,

A girl subdues the terminable,
Just a breath before the
Dust settles,
A sigh of life.

Ive written about my experience
With a daughter i lost in my youth:
Amber waves in the still
Of my soul,
The story in my perception
Truth be spoken,
She wasnt really mine.

And my heart is stilled,
Born into my life
My love could not be seen
As fatherly,
A choice made
And years fade into the torture
That is my mind.

17 years after the four
Of loving her,
The love of my life,
The Ded inside the poet
Reaches into my reality
And once again all is
The chaos.
Ambers wave.....

I raised her for the first four years
Of her life knowing
She wasnt mine.
When my ex and i separated
I lost Amber too:

You reached into a well
Of souls and captured
My whole being,
Ambers waves like a beach
On Sunday morning's
Glory,
Life is in me to hear your voice,
And the truth comes
Like the last gasp.

Amber is my exs daughter,
She cheated on me and we assumed
Amber wasnt mine.
So four years i loved her.
She was born at 6 months old
And weighed only 2.7 pounds.
I reached out four months
Ago for some reason on facebook
After she friended me.
I asked her if she still talked to
The man we though was her dad:

Time is a hammer
Always pounding and memory
Is the tear we dont shed,
It all comes out at once
And the weight of regret
Can be lifted,
The soul cleansed,
The hope invigorating
And life is a dream within
A dream within....

She couldnt tell me anything
So her mother gets on messenger
And tells me she is going to call me.
She tells me Amber is mine.
That I was her father all along.
The stillness in my whole
Life lifted.

And the beauty of life is
That the unexpected
Is always the best anything,
Knowing is like a perpetual
Repetitive insanity,
Regret a broken record player,
Depression a choice within
Not to fight even when
You lose,
Ambers wave came like a
Dream awake.
The reality is,
If this is real, never wake me.......




My heart is open again.
Life is so beautiful.
Amber was born with cerebral
Palsy on the right side of her
Body, shes 21 and she found
She had a great big family
After feeling so alone.
She fights everyday and is in college
So when i met her she amazed
Me with her fight. Never
Giving up i awoke from
My stillness. I have a daughter
21 years old!!!!
My little girls have a big sister.
My still born was a metaphor
For my life being stopped after she wasnt in my life.
See my facebook for
The pictures of my long lost
Daughter. Life is a beautiful
Craziness.

I am in the wandering hour
Closed up to myself
Within myself:

I struggle with death
While alive as I write from
The light of a shadow,
    In words I sculpture
A destroyed consciousness
Full of memory
Inventing the moment.

Saint of my struggles
Full full
The pain remains
From the days last breath,
   A form of light
Cowering beneath a burnt moon
    I embrace the fear
And fall beneath the emotional
Cracks,
   Nocturnally inclined
I am the light over lonely
Streets at home in the shadows,
    
Everything falls apart
When i speak to you its
like colliding
In a spiral,
Extinguished speech
I fumble back
In retreat to my world,
Inside my surrounded throne
I write the struggle
And I know I am.....

Tell me why the poison,
Your nomadic essence
In a magnetar's romance?
**** the void with your
Missing kiss,
Surrendered to your
Chosen appearing and time
Is your whim to the commands
I obey.

Why the poison
When a million ways to die
Is the same living under
Your spell,
Seductress of the falling sun,
Nuisance to my nocturnal
Soul,
I am but yours
And held by the thirst
For more,
Take me into your
Embrace,
I drink freely your
Kiss of death.

Why the poison
For a suicidal lover?

Poetry should not sound like a fortune cookie.

There was no death
But life without her,
Til the sunset every morning
And the deepest yearnings
Echo the slains cry of vengeance:

I glanced at the midnight hour
And found the yellow secrets,
A shadow lay as a tear
And the moon cried beneath
The last kiss.

Where is my heart,
But six feet under
Wherever you are.

The canvas is half painted
And the strokes paint
A masterful sorrow,
Beneath the quarter moons
And the highest light of
The sol,
I begin to see the balance
Of all that may never
Be painted and the depth
Of my passions
Is an abyss of hope.

I lay beneath a crimson
Light,
Centered deeply,
An echo of what might've
Been.

The profits of words
In the night that becomes us,
We the nocturnal poets,
Divinities of the good nights
When benevolence soars
As the pen avenges the light;
Constellation of the return,
Coming to rip the hope from regret
And all dissolves into a pen,
Inklings that become the umbilical
Cord between now and then,
Present and tomorrow
Are written for the sake of hope,
Because yesterday is usually
A sad poem.

Quarter hour gone, I reinvent myself
Born from the volcanic melancholy,
The fire that burns
In the moments we want
Those moment's time,
Here and now,
Words are the quarter hour's
Fulfillment at the poets
Expense.

Im afraid of the words
My father might say
As my mother watches from
An eternal kiss,
And school is not a notion ,
It ia the reality of three lil girls
While I hustle for the groceries.
      I become a shadow,
      Working between the light,
      I want to lose myself
      In mama's tortillas,
      Chorizo and eggs with
      All the love I had the time
      To feel.

I am 5 am. Standing at Labor
Force and hear the words
Curse me, their whispers
Of  My failures only push me,
I grow stronger,
My children grow hungry,
There goes the corner store,
And my gun feeds my children,..
The metaphor does not exist
Here, this the real,
A westside everyday,
Poverty in action,
Rich in the sorrows dance,
Life spreads its wings,
I am left in the shadow.
I hate the metaphor,
Because you will never truly
See the truth of my words.

In my frenzy
I hustle past myself,
Stackin so high
Its an 8x4,
The walls close in as
I serve the fiend.
His paranoia becomes mine,
I hear his kids wandering
If they are going to eat,
I eat their suffering
And put it in a dope house
Of brokenness.
I am everyday
Who dies with every dub,
Every friend that became
Bug eyed and sleepless,
Losing all he ever was
And any love he ever had,
Blaming the world,
I am their worlds.
All that sustains me is addiction,
Yours is the judgement
I feel as you read this.

What is this place I have
Become?
The question becomes a mirror,
The mirror becomes a ghost ,.
The ghost is a demon
That mirrors the man i see.

I dont stop.
I keep the night in the sun,
My Loks carry the night,
I serve with no sleep,
I sacrifice to serve,
More faithful than
The pain in my soul,
The soul a little boy
Lost with the days when
The boy lived by the hand
Of the sun.

A boy dies,
He lives in death as a martyr
Spreading wings of regret,
Requiem for my kids,
I serve a destruction
With an identical sun,
And a mirror is.....
I am,
I was,
Mirror mirror.

Im a sunny day,
Everyone loves them,
But thee storm inside
Me rages on:
You make for a break in the rain
And you stand by me.
Will you always remain?
Like the scattered winds
On the eternal dance
Of waves,
There is no particular order
And where there was no order,
Now brings balance,
Stamd by me.
Being alone is just the deepest
Existence
  When the heart is a caged bird,
And all or nothing in a crazy
Madness that surrounds me,
Its all ok when
You stand by me.by me.

Insane like a heartless confession,
Soul sessions,
Reality of the beast spreading infection
I Spread the Ded in Poet,
Like a sobering moment-
Know it,
I take you down with me
As you took me to highest heights,
When you leave:
Even crickets seem to sigh at night,
Revelations
Pain soars hand in hand with happiness,
Ironical elevations,
Teleportation
Body and soul
Better for the sickness,
I see i love you,
Destroyer of beauty with the quickness,
Personal mixing with business,
What is this,
A brokenness with every decision,
Precision demolitions,
Words of fire.
Love the ammunition,
A contradiction conflicting,
Happiness sickening,
Bring on the quickening
Pace,
Face of the beast,
Hopeless in your light,
I see when its too late,
I earthquake,
Shake my head though,
How much of me can you take,
I still beg you dont leave though,
Lets be clear yo,
Im intentionally devided,
Lifetime glitch provided,
I cant hide it,
Fight it.....
Im down for you,
You go, i go,
Us against the world;
Easy though,
Me against you,
I really dont know.

Truth is I have never
Seen the truth,
In as much as a broken soul
Wanders looking for the Source,
Or reason,
I scattered bits and pieces left by
The Light,
Finding sparks in the darkness,
In truth the reality is
I dont know if I really
Care,
The unknown is all there is.

Im a loner
Thinking about the bigger picture
Knowing i am a backround pixel,
High definition of my sorrow
Displayed in the domain
Of the public eyes
For all to see me on my naked
Cross and filter the words of my
Pains
Written on a bed of life,
A whisper in the echoes,
I word written for me
Since my life is unspoken

I function sometimes
I function in fear,
Feeling,
Kneeling,
Whisper of a broken
Savior,
My tired soul labors
Along at the speed of
Life
The species known as me
Death eternal,
Internal declining,
Lightning flashes,
Passes to ashes,
In a life flashes
Love deeply
Totally utterly
Self aware in a solitary confinement
My life is out of alignment,
That the seeds were driven
From a scattered field of
Sun flower,
I want to watch my son flower,
What is a life
but a a lighter shade of black,
I want to go back
But its a point that half time,
I only have half the average,
Light embers in a fading dusk
Poetical emotion
Up without horizons,
Stay surviving asleep
While im awake,
Life turning to faded dreams

Illusion is that there is no illusion

The animal
Which inside sleeps
But calls, beckons.
A forth right to fire
Burning in the blindest rage
And calling it man.

I stood here
Amongst the grey underneath a vivid
Rain,
Mist gathered like a flock of
Wet embers on open flames,
Existences.
That a cloud broke
From its tears
And left the suns
Long stride holding dear
The moment;
That I stood beneath
A crimson shade;
A bittersweet grace
Among the days that end
In the afterglow of life.
For whatever reason
A gratefulness yearns.

And the silence between us,
You and the world,
Me and the crazy,
Chewing our nails down to
The bone
Breaking neck paranoia,
With the high so low
It bottoms us into the normal
Where nothing makes sense,
The loss of the addiction
Leaves us in the confusion
Of the world.

What remains
Of little words spoken. ...
The dreams far and away
Taken like thieves,
Only a little stays
In words written upon
A wonderful tombstone.

At every turn
Is the voice's spread hand,
Almost like the echoes stream
In the passionate resonance.

  Let it go.

And yesterday is loud in the silence
In the invisible pain,
Edge of nowhere
And tomorrow.

  Walking backwards
To the abyss of yesterdays,
The spirit flickers
And begins a dissolution of faces.....

   Only the voice remains
And a haunting of regret.

Steady into the night:

Grippin but no set trippin,
Grippin but i aint whippin,
Limpin cuz its straight survival,
Graduated good but awaiting
My survival,
Arrival;
Poet of the nocturnal,
3rd degree burnin eternal,
Inferno fire of this life,
Made out the suffering
Now fighting for my life,
Strife on the daily,
Killin expectations thats why
They straight hate me,
Fate me, destiny on the bubble
Finding out life bringing
More struggle,
Trouble in deeper to the heart
Bringing out the gangster
And in the end Im back here at
The start.

Black soul
      Scattered night
Tearing the pain apart,
The reality awakens
Into the dream and asks,
"Who am I?"
A shadow forms.

Asleep in a bed or rain
Life sings melancholic bliss,
The sparks surrounding dark,
A flicker of moments.

Many handed thoughts
Interrogate the clarity,
Entering by manipulation,
Only the pain is real.

I soak in the ethereal
And speak in a mist,
The emptiness understands,
I return in a blood language.

No more words.

And here's to life,
Life I didn't know or take,
A cup half full,
Half empty with tears.
The pain and sorrows
Of yesterdays and tomorrows.
All the wasted years....

I am not the abyss,
I am the space that filled it with hope.
I am not the pain,
But the road less taken.
I am not the brokenness
But the redemption of today.
Hope, the infinite soul that
Resides definance of the emptiness.
I am not alone.
I am not ded.
I am Dedpoet......Alive!!!!!

The sky is a mirror
In a labyrinth of regrets.
I hear myself in youth
And shake my head in older age.

But I am not myself.

I pull my hair back to my feet,
All the echoes that
Reflect who I was,
Or am,
Or trying not to be,

But I cannot find myself.

I am trapped with everyone
Telling me this and that
About myself,
But who knows me better
That ME?

I am a wounded animal
In an extraordinary cage,
Sky full of mirrors,
I say regret,
Others say remember,
I say forget,
Others say don't,

Because I am not them.

Me, myself
And everyone else,
Sky full of mirrors
And only the memory remains.

The doors to my heart are open:

Mother spoke to me,
Breath of God,
Because I know the difference
As a child and losing God when
Mother was taken and my
Soul cried to the quarter moon.

All the hours pass
Through these poems of her,

And the words still speak
From an altered spirit deep
In the forest of my youth,
A secret day Mother of six took
Me to eat alone,
Alone with oceans,
And stars,
And all the hope a child could bear,
Where Mother looked at me
And smiled,
Her smile contained all that
Was good of my childhood.

And Mother,
Her amazing grace of words
Spoke as God,

She held me with one arm,
One secret morning

With oceans,


With stars,

All the hope a child could bear.

I say the heart of the city lives,
In her I will never die,
The dream of a carpenter builds
Merging with hopes
That I have for her:

    Free I write my poetical
Amongst the flowers and demons,
         The nonturnes of my heart
And the dawn of my fires,

Tell me the Alamo will be remembered,
Her beauty like a sword
Making my words bleed,

        I am my city.

Dream of the desolates
From my cursed youth and poor
Words, the poet in my rich in life

          My city is me.

The prostituted poor like an addict
Blowing a flute,
A cold stare, no food, no remorse,
The floor of anguish, a passionate girl.

         We are one.

I am the streets,
Among the thieves and thugs
Who like you have dreams,
Among the rust and damp wooded
Homes, into the parks of my city,
Where Spanish missions still
Pray over the people,
     My church,
My heart,

My city full of dreamers.

I walk the Westside of San Anto,
The place I buried so many.

And the dead do speak
As they are in my words,
My very poetry.

Some have gone decent,
Others waved their final colors
With a kerchief ,now rest immortal.

So then I go back for them,
But move forward doing so,
To remember where I am
And where they shall never go.

If I am just a lucky guy
Who made it out alive when so
Many could not,
Then I cannot regret because the
Dead have no memory.

But why go back and visit
The desolation, the addicted
Nocturnal, the names who have
No faces?

Because I cannot reject myself,
The pistol I once lived by,
The nature of air and hope that
Escaped all in the ruins.

No, I will always return,
And my heart has not the words.

Now what?
Flowers for the dead and walk
The slab of names to rejoice
In what once was?

No, I come home,
The same as you,
As anyone,
Superfluous as this may be,
The return is necessary
If only to find oneself again.

The present is still,
But the mountainous rage against
Thoughts and realities collide and I
Realise they have been there since
The beginning:

Look at her,
Ageless in my memory
As the light and the dust settle
In a dance,
     A windmill of her love,
The walk of her figure under said
Moonlight,
Oh the anger entangled because she
Isn't here anymore,
          
     The present is still:
The floodgates of bullets whipping by,
     The nightmares flashing,
A fallen angel before my eyes,
The child cries God!!!!
And to a child mother is God,
    Gone with the waters,
I drown in a tortured river.

     Between what I see and what
I know now I become a dazzled
Flame dancing in a spherical nature,
     A battalion of storms
And the rage within me marches on.

The present is motionless,
But the rage of regret
Is a fountain of reality floating
On a cloud of reflections,
      Where has my lover gone?
She left and it was the best for
Both of us,right?
I agreed to disagree with myself,
       Under grey skies
A flock of crows dispersed
Just before the thunder.....
     In thoughts I chew my nails
Down to my wrist,
The fire burns inside and charrs my heart,
My black jewel
Asleep between her *******,
How I miss you woman!

The present is still:
My daughters cry Daddy!
Echoes of they who are not there,
The transparent moment  is a petrified
Storm,
The sky becomes a deep abyss,
Black clouds over black days,
Daddy isn't there.
Fist strikes the flesh,
     The storm is human
And it rages on inside me,
The precipitation is a drop
Of solitude for every deep thought,,
    My eyes open and close,
Phosphorus regret with downed eyelid.

The moment is still,
But the storm rages on.......

Most endearing beloved,

    Today at Midwinter's eye, I saw you under
The sun, a drop of light as it were under
The shimmery snow you stood upon.
And in the image of God we were made,
I'd like to think he made the portrait
Just for me, a delightful immortal
Image that dances even at night around
The round moon of January's cold.

    I cannot give you more than
You have just given me as though
You bestowed upon me a spoonful
Of star, and as I walked I saw your
butterfly's journey, the ringing of
Freedom's bell, I rejoice in the perfect
Memory as though an angel would pass
Here on earth to witness a miracle
And then swiftly return to eternity.
     But what I can offer you is the music
Of sky upon water, the depth of a diamond's
Gaze; the birth of Springtime in your
Eyes,the eternity in a flash which is the
Whole of my life, I offer you the foam of
The beach where we will make love,
I will swim in your rivery hair and not
Drown, I offer you my soul dancing
In a forest with tree flowers and adventure
On the rainiest days, I give you a child
That has not been born but knows
You as Mother, the miracle is you love.
I give you the ground I walk on, and all
The little birds and animals you can fathom.

Take these my humble gifts,
    My love eternal,
              
            Dedpoet

P.S. Also take the skies and all the stars,
All that I wish for you.

In the carnival of the Barrio
The moment's invent themselves,
Another world apart from
The lunatic normalcy,
       Confederation of fire,
The nomadic nocturne spiraling
Into the darkness,
    A magnetosphere of addiction,
A high voltage need
That crawls on the very skin.
            
        People in a drama:
A woman limps bursting
Into the eyes of the unseeing,
A hand for a hand,
The emotions stir inside,
Coins fall into her,
       Clusters of emotions,
Spinning webs that scatter
The hearts,
She skips off into the cityscape.

I see a people in a tunnel vision,
Perhaps I am part of them,
I speak as I watch the addicted;
       A forest of needles
       In the arms that reach,
A man whose youth is alive
In the body that's seems so old,
     The endless hand that reaches,
Falling without falling,
The night insisting on his existence,
Hands full, he runs to deal with
Himself.

The desolation of the addicted,
A couple holding hands
Walking the street,
He lets her go into the sky
And she is picked up
By a raining comet,
He waits for her return,
Money in hand,
To the nocturnal lament
They become as they pass through
The eye of a needle.

The streets were once rivers,
The houses were once gold,
But the night takes the shimmering
And turns it away from
The additicted nocturnal.

Month of January,
My words wander through
Your snow to gather
Crystalline Icycles and fragrance
From burning fires.
Come Winter, my love,
The grey days of chill
Warm the heart,
A blessed scape for holding
My lover drifting in white days,
The flakes fall as you approach
And form a memory,
Frozen in my eyes as though
The season were brought upon
Just for this moment.

Look, in my eyes,
Yours,
An angel walks in the snow
So that the cold sun could
Shinedown upon you,
Cotton and your rose petal
Cheeks, smile at me as
You shiver and kiss the crimson
Of your lips,
The season of Winter,
A reason to hold you....

Only your presence is real:

I can see your shoulder, left,
Exposed.
You eat a peach folded on the couch,
The summer it began
As a diaphanous drop
Of wine spilled under
Your lips,
Through you the transparency
Of the world,
Under motionless present
Your timeless gaze,

A quiver of light,
Your naked shoulder.

The foam of your body
As the wave hits my shores,
Living waters,
I swear the world is your substance,
You hear my footsteps
Throbbing in the shadows,
      The silken flattery
Of your smile,
The hour glass of your figure,
Suspended between us
I kiss you,
The rain does not wet you
Because you are a flame,
     Your lips taste of wine;

Our bodies stretch the dawn
Uprooting the world.

I wonder often which side
Of the coin I am on,
The magnificent irony of God
For giving me words;

I am the lightless eyes that see
From the dark what is leftover
From a library of dreams that
Seem dimly lit longing to be.....

Each stanza I vainly write,
Or are they written already,
Insensible scribblings wondering
If I am the poem or the poet,

A book of sonnet infinite,
Inaccessible rhymed schemes
Prewrit as the lost manuscripts
Of Alexandria lost to fire,

I live among the metaphorical,
Gardens of verbs and fountains
Of nouns, the blind word speaks
All that is seen.

Librarian of my days,
The the form is free I believe,
The cosmic universe in which
I write call to me in words,

Who am I?
The poem or the poet,
The twilight of my days have
Come to wonder what's real,

The delectable world I watch,
The words feed into me,
I realise I am a poet
Living inside the poem.

I didn't want new shoes,
Not from the Goodwill store again.
My father opened his piggy bank,
I guess there are other boys
Who would take the shoes
You have now.

Ping, ping, ping,
Quarters hitting the counter
As he payed for shoes I didn't choose.

My friends can tell if the shoes are used
Or not, I looked up at my father.

You haven't even seen the shoes,
You've been nagging the whole time!

My whines could be heard round
The Westside, from the seat of the
Truck I imagined the ridicule,
The mean things they would say
And I would be parylyzed
From their words.

I put them on the next day.

My father would never have guessed
He chose used Jordan sneakers,
His wise natural character beyond
Such things, whose calming voice
Made the world  rearrange to sense.

Notes, musical keys, rythmic changes-
A modification of the Word
Which purifies her soulfulness
And expresses clarities in the fog,
The hint of Dickinson in her words,
The scent of reality in her reflection,
     The words become a path:

One wet summer I heard your words,
The vibrant sky breaths
And the sun became as embers
Of poetic sacrifice,
Through reading your poem
I became as a double being,
Movement began
A sudden dispersion of birds
Followed by the Humm of water
On stone,
Murmurs of infinite moments
Painting them all like some
Poet Saint,
The words became a lineage
To the unfathomable depths of you,
In the helix of hours
The beat of the sea and the stilled
Shimmers of light on water can be found
In the edification of her poetry;

Master strokes,
Like a naked liberation
Of a diamond body beyond
A turquoise sunset,
A co concubine of words
That form constellated meanings
Among the pnumbra,
Reminiscent of the March of hours
In which the words come
And a fixed glitter in her eyes form,
The form of woman,
A form of dizziness
Like a dance of wind and water,
I read between the words,

    Vicki,
         Vicki,

I imagine a lamp in the middle
Of the night,
A pen and a womans scorching
Words as God had spoken
The First Word,
Like a moon in heat in midday's
Grasp, she counters every word
Of expression
Like a cell for my tortured soul,
She became my solitary star,
I wander in her hours,
Hungry for more words,
A memory inventing itself,
Masterfully,
She makes the sky walk the land.

I met her by chance
Standing in the middle of destiny
Governing all eyes who passed,
All who could not adress her.

The solitary star she was
With her own kind of light
That goes on fiery,

It runs from the night
And lends beauty to day,
Like the blaze of a dark Star,
Birth of a second life,
Ebony girl,
I rip myself from the serpent's tooth,
I awaken from a thousand days
Of forever and she brings
Me forth from oblivion,
I utter one word between my lips,

Ebony

The word of nocturnal beauty,
I wish to plant the seeds so
Loving, so caressing,
They grow inside her heart,
I bequeath it all,
Should it all be just a dream,
Running or flying,
She flanks the reality
And  pours her own brand
Of living waters,

Ebony girl,
Your lightning sweet and tremendous,
You give my clouds wind,
Warm me and hold me
Closer to the fire
Of your chest.

I barely know your name,
I have seen your face,
A sorrowful divinity,

Delicate like the pain in your eyes,
Small, sweet, yet somehow broken,
The tranquil pain says so much.

Your hair drinks in the light,
And your hands hold a smooth
Grief that grows deep and kills,

Eventually you will see a poem
And wonder if you are like that,
If your beauty is calamitous,

If your rose petal smile
Cries with humble tears
When you look at distant stars,

Wether you see white doves
Of dark Ravens ,
Or even both in your sleepy heart,

You who hold the adoration
Of the blind man,
In love with shells,

You- beauty of the sorrows-
Have a sweet hole in your heart,
Love complete, body and soul,

I confess your picture is a spectre,
It exhausts my soul
And I open my arms,

Would you run to me?
Would you just half smile
And cry a tear for what will never be?

You have a divine thirst,
And your eyes carry a myriad
Of fluttering whispers,

Words that float to me,
The wrath of your being,
One day to find one another.....

The bitter heaviness of your name,
Angela....Angela...... Angela,
I whisper to broken air,

Your picture is a feast of beauty,
Yet I cannot hope for more
Than a haunted glare.

I sink myself into mortal grief,
The paralysis of you,
Angela....Angela....

You leap to life
When nothing is possible.