Along the the beach
With skies coated grey
And a feeling of brooding
Sentimental reasons,
   The feeling of today
Gathered inside and repeated
Itself to me,
A walk through the wind
And the familiar ripple
Of my wind breakers
Whisp in the air,
   A familiarity rolls over me
And a sordidness of recollections
Flowers like a lukewarm
Spring day only half way
Flowering,
   Still waiting I trek into thoughts;

  I met once with fingernails
Adorned in a slobbish black,
Dirt filled and a sigh,
    She spoke to me in her
College plaid joggers with a
Sweater bearing another school,
  And we spoke of the dirt,
Simply and plain of how it
Had gotten there.
   And working in dirt
Brought a great day into
My life,
   Oh lover of words and
A philosophy of conversation,
   How the wind wept that day,
And the familiar greys peeking out,
   Unspoken yet here today
Sneaking in a familiar
Resonance,
    Today is today again,
A hint that this will be yesterday
Too.

To separate from youth,

The mind mastered
And a brazen flame forwards
The march

Watching all innocence
Fade, devoured by time
And taking every moment

Watching the son become
The father in a blank slate

While knowing the woman
Under the sun, every day
A work of progress.

To emerge from the body
Is to become the soul:

Master the body
As a flame in it's newness

Watch your dreams evolve
Into a fire of desires realised

Devour the moments
As a truth of this life

Watch the children of innocence

And carve out the tree of your life
Under its shade as naked as the soul

Lord,
       God of many names
       I come as a pagan
        So that the right One
       Might hear my moans....

You are not a God that is either
Republican or Democrat,
You are partisan and unheeding
To their propaganda,
You do not need the popular vote,
Nor do you speak lies in speeches.

About the monsters You left in charge....

They speak sweet nothings in Your name
While they rush to cameras when
A thousand die.
They secretly take in the money
For the poor and raise funds
For their bunkers when the
Day of Reckoning comes.
    With their atomic know how
And the fear mongering tactics,
  Tney seek to rule me imperialistic,
They seek to destroy me moralistic.
    
    Will you deliver me from their policies,
   Save me from their budget cuts,
    Confuse their sinister programs?

When the day of final Judgement comes,
Send me an Angel,
Be my refuge from the socialist control,
Keep me safe from their propaganda
Mind alterating political promises,
Save me from their campaign commercials,
      Keep those who seek You
Under your safety and
Bullet proof vests.

......the paradox was not a mysterious precious singular reason,
     As he breathed life into
His own lungs,
For daily he seemed to live like this,
The wound he wore on his chest
Like a reaper of life,
    A blood wound so thirsty
Its vampiric torture on those
Closest was not life but an
Embellished form of whimpers
Not some courageous
Yell to justified glory,
    It frustration was at
A poem or some form of
A form that gave it's bitter
   Deliverance grace
So that all might hear
Such a didsain with
Fanciful words more for word's
Sake, the ears silken flattery,
    The mundane use of glorified
Flutter,
  He wrote the weak
And a theasurus well thought
Made it strong,
    As it was read,
The mundane echoed
From an empty seat,
An empty word
From a cup once full.....

The compass spins
And the wind blows from all seasons,
We have just been born,
Ageless we are:

In the beginning
Entangled in eternity
Our destiny written on a star
That burned before us,
That lights worlds after us,
Out love cried out to the
Tortured Aloness and closed
The abyss filing eachother.
    
Explode!

The floodgates of my touch
Over your luminous silhouette,
Water and fire collide
Raining embers of eternity,
The present is stilled
And the fountain of reality
Stops as I take your hand;
We are the the precipices
Where sky and earth meet,
Dawn and dusk,
A spherical momentum.

The real love,
A geometric journey
As we invent new places
In eachother,
Echoes in dreams wide awake,
All points from full moons
To quarter suns,
I love you from all points,
Your diaphanous presence,
You are my world.

Hey there,
Its been such a long time,
My arm is still in your murky water,
And I'm still here waiting for you.
But it's time to let you go,
I see you breathing under water,
And I can't wait for you anymore.
You brush away the hands that reach
Deep into your pain,
And though they know,
You just can't let it go,
So I can't watch you become a fish,
Because my life has to be lived,
I'll miss you and remember you
When you breathed air,
So now I'll let you swim away.

And I wrote the Heavens,
And wrote havens for the Heavenly
Til all the bright buds wilted,
Milk no longer flowed,
And now my muse left me for
Some dude in Canada.

     Oh siren mourning over the mist,
    That I was a bird of prey
     And was taken by your claw!
    How silly of me to sing the Nightingale's
     Transformation in the verses
    I lost myself to you,
     And in comes a chance of change
    You roll over to the next guy
     With a Daily!

Oh Muse,
The masterful strokes gone,
This arrogant upstart would write
You the last sonnet of air
That you might breathe your echoes
Upon my words,
Bequeath me the inspired harmonic
Yielding the poetical mastery to my paper!

   Oh muse,
   You old hag!
   I'm left with crooning
   Your ungiven name!

I assume that you never
Knew the pure love we had
For you,
Your tiny body could not take
The world so we imagine
You went straight to become an angel.

You did not take a breath
Of the air I still breathe as i waited
For your cries,
That made two of us because
I could not breathe as you never
Made a sound.

I assume that you loved your
Mother so much you could
Not bear to be apart from
Her,
That you left to watch over her
In spirit qnd essence,
That she still leaves flowers
For you shows me she misses
You .

Of all the things you will never see
I hope i have seen enough
To know that i tried to live
For you,
That of all the days and every
Night we never had,
That my pain still lives,
As well as my love,
That i will be with you one day
And you can show me
All that i do not know
Of the Heavens and glories.

Your light shines somewhere
Too bright for this world,
I know that when my eyes close
For the final time your
Light will guide me home.

Speak,
       Listen,
The night awakens and asks for you,
            I enter by your tongue,
We speak in nudities
    As our bodies invent another
Language.

I don't know your name,
I have see your face;
And hers when she is with you.

That delicate smile,
The same as when we first met,
Somehow, I don't know, ironic.

Does she see in your eyes tranquility,
Like an open sun on a lake,
The lake where we were married?

She drinks in your light,
And when I saw the two of you,
Something inside of me began to die,

Like these words,
Jealous phrases from the other man,
Are you a jealous man, do you know of me?

When you look to the distance,
Because I am sure you will always
Be there, do you see yourself
At the hospital battling pneumonia?

Your hands on hers
Like curled rose petals,
Where at the hospital no one asks
You to leave because they know somehow
The term visiting hours don't apply.

You hold the woman I love,
With your powerful hands,

You who **** me inside,
Is she yours now,
Body and soul?

But you see I am her husband,
And for her I have a divine thirst,
So I won't make a public scene.

Tell me, tell me sir,
What words have you spoken,
Words in a myriad of seduction
To steal a man's love, the love of my life?

Be gentle with her,
Love her as gentle air over tree tops,
Nothing is as sweet as her delicate
Touch, savor it.....

And perhaps when you are done,
Because I know you are just passing through,
(This I pray to God)
She returns to me with the same
Gleam in her eyes.

She holds me like she used to,
And we haven't been this happy
In years, I can trace my life
Over each crevice of her body,

I follow them to you sir,
And it reminded me that I have lost,
Not my wife,
But myself in taking for granted
This dove bit so innocent.

You are no obstacle sir,
Because I am now flaming,
Alive even,
A bitter heaviness dwells within,
I must keep the jealous soul at bay,

And this grief like you,
Will pass,
I will love her again as you reminded,

The paralysis is gone,
And now I leap to life
When before you sir,
Nothing was possible.

Harvester of words gathered in the
Trenches of life between
The dawns early fire
And the dusk of our gathering,
A reminiscent corridor that takes
A reader and places them in
The belly of your understanding,
Digestive reading.

And we become all things
All at once
To find a meaning to the wonderful
Chaos,
The stubbornness
Of the human condition
Gazing at broken things and finding
Light in the void of humanity.

You poet
Armed with a language unique
To the written word of your being,
The benevolent ruins of time
Assaulting the moments
Gazing into melancholic skies
Bringing them to read our hearts.
Bringer of wisdom from our own
Stupidity,
Spinning the compass to one another,
Bringing closer the faceless
Soul breathing in words,
Syllables like embers raining
On the angels watching us suffer,
We compact the understanding
Into a small requiem of experiences,
Ripping the face off of the world
And giving it our own touch:

I, you, We,
Poetry the birth of ruins
And dissolves into forever,
Poets, bringers of languages
Never spoken like dictation of spirits,
Time before time,
After and before collide
Birthing the momentous inkling.

Take it,
Its yours,
Poets living in the dream
Suffering the expense
Of the reality,
Constellation of our suffering....

Poets, living martyrs.

Dear Roaches,

   Please stay out of my coffee mug
In the mornings, I'll leave you bread crumbs
Or whatever it is you eat on the floor
When I make my sandwiches in the morn.
     ( I'm sure we can come to some
Sort of agreement)
   And perhaps I will forget to wash a dish
Or two and leave it out with just enough
To taste and delight yourselves in.
    But if I find you in my mug
Or my coffee machine, I will break
Out the Raid and other chemical
Weapons at my disposal, and sure I know
You will procreate faster than I can
Buy poison so let's make some kind
Of deal?
    Though it may not be a banquet,
I'm sure I can leave the occasional mess,
    So how bout it?

        Your housemate,
         Dedpoet

I fell into the commerce
Of trading looks with you.
And once your stock rose,
I invested a lifetime.

On the 13th of December, 1996,
Tupak Shakur entered Heaven
Free styling to the angels whom
Found the beauty in a language
Lost to them when trying to
Understand mortals.

    The angels, amazed and petrified
    At the realness asked:
    " Who are you? Where did you come from?"
   And he flowed like a prophesy,
   What he spat was street life truth,
    And all the world was a ghetto.
    For a moment the angels were
    Concerned, but then the archangel
    Michael shook his hand and nodded,
    From then on Tupak was the first
    **** Angel.

I do not know what is real,
Are there words real,
Real the poem,
Are you real,
you that reads this?

I question myself,
Everything and everyone,
The only answer I have
Is that I am alive between
The verses.

On granite tops
Of a syllables edge,
Under the knife of the moon's
Tips and rustled
Tops of wilderness's troops
Marching in cooler bones
And aching the secretly
Emerging gold and browns
Alleviate the warm regards,
Bland of words
And so many, many of
The mind inherit the season
With feverish nostalgia,
Able to take sin among the
Flesh and cleanse the
Cools the breeze like
A sullen midnight tremble
In the lovers arms
Greasing the days with
An  angels wing
And the eyes grow heavy,
Pure more so than you
Or I,
A cool silence
In the huge seasons
Flowing in the beads of
The virgins beneath
Winter's yelp.

How small I am under
Your sky!
You, a tall slender moon,
Your hair like wind,
   Outside children at play,
Memory, momentous,
   Words pour out your monument,
I am intertwined like the last Dawn,
   Sun rises,
You swallow me with your eyes,
    I live for unreachable skies
Against the veil of your horizons....

Its not my short legs,
Nor in my overgrown beard,
It's not the big nose
Or small pockets women fear.
It is the corny poem
For which I stand,
The kind of hopeful
Romanticism the women
Can't stand.
If is not in my furry kisses
Nor my nonsense of style,
It is the dork in my walk
That keeps them a mile,
I am a dude,
Unphenomenally,
Unphenomenal dude,
That's me.

I do not have the body
The women might want,
The kind where my bipeds
I'd flaunt,
I haven't the coin
To release the swag,
Hell I'm still playing
Nintendo 64, not much to brag!
My T.V. is till a big box,
I have no women,
I got loneliness on lock.
I'm just a dude,
Unphenomenally,
Unphenomenally dude,
That's me.

I'll finish this poem
With my last pathetic rhyme,
Maybe a chick will like it,
Like me this time!
I'll get a haircut to match
The style of now,
I'll become phenomenal,
I'll get there somehow,
But for now.....
Im just a dude,
Unphenomenally,
Unphenomenal dude...
That's me!

Vengeance, since you cannot
Vanquish my thirst,
Where is your power,
Where is your bloodlust?

       There is no vengeance
To carry away all the love I felt
For the One taken.

Vengeance, you cannot touch me
After the years have melted your
Full peak, and Peace grows inside
Me, fuller and larger,
The more I remember the love.

I hear a sigh
Across the sky,
Filling the stars
And fulfilling life....
No sigh; it is my daughter
Waking from sleep.

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 didnt realise that
I wasnt cool enough
To carry myself with eyes
Wide open,
Like some enigmatic beauty
With no interior design,
Someone gazes at clouds making
Shapes,
People look at the man
With a pen and tiny pad,

Their thougts like dandruff
On the black polo
You bought to impress
Her father,
Self aware and glare at the living,
Painting the swindled
Version of the real things,
Wiping away the tears
Of this mornings' spilled coffee,
The 29 year old beggar looks pridedul
Enough to know you burn
Inside and out comes the
Weasal,

I couldnt truly see that I wrote
In the most sensible way,
A poet defines a classic sight
Timeless, wondering
When the pièce will be done
So he can write about beggar.

A poet is not slave to the mind,
And the mind is not a terrible
Thing, only when the door closes
And last light curls the spectrum,
The poet lays the earth in symphonie, afraid that he cannot hear the music,
Desparate and hungry
For the life he writes.

Walk as the circumstances
That surround me, run me;
I  loosen the reins of my illusion,
And control is a word.

Where the river begins
A mountain captures,
It's cold up there
And though hope springs eternal
I will only be here for a while,

Breathe,
Deep Breaths,
And the universe will survive
Without me,
I reach still....

In the arena of hope
Willing to die in the moment's
arms,
In the commonwealth
Of the unreachable.

Point the quarter moon
Hard pavement
With crecent curves,
Big on heart when villages
Raid for the totilla's final
Call,
Caps styled latest
Rest off the young and full hearted
Slowly contemplating
With final breath,
Grandmothers son
Took the last one she baked,
Aroz con pollo,
The taste leaving the earth,
Once bit,
A final savor
The West on no one's side
While quarter moon
Cries full.

Where the first candle was lit
At midnight mass,
You greaved forward the light
And blessed the joint,
Took a puff and inevitable
Like the cries of the kids
Chasing the raspa man,
Said puff puff pass.

Over summer 95 with
An eternal cusp of weathered
Youth we drove the neighborhood
In the Accord I was given,
At times I believe for graduating Jr High, your unbeatable design
To get us laid was never like the fated quartet moon
That you held in respect almost
Soldier like.

   Remembered C-5 Galaxy and the base we could never get into,
    A roar of sunset glow and the
Colors we flew for our street
Wer more than the rainbow
Could bear,
   A spectrum of a place and
Time that only
A whispered gallantry when
    You took that knife for me,
Always the duo,
Once alone,
Taken with the ways of men.

    I did nothing  with my
Pano, the red handkerchief
That all the homiez through
In a sea of red,
I swear I heard the Taps
Being played by Carlos Santana,
I took a breath and lay
Out a cry,
     One that still runs the barrio,
Mi amigo,
Once the road in a present dream
Taken like the winds
And a memory's glance,
    You are there
And I still,
My Friend,
      Westside intangibles.

Isn't better now to back
To the hood where the Eden
Is in ruins, silent,
Among the bullets echoed with no names?

Even the crippled that hold fast
Like dignitaries to empty beer bottles,
With a good for a drink at the tips
Of tongued devils groaning that all
Have failed them.

     Dealers on the corner
With their ominous eyes and crooked
Cash on the beaten sidewalks of a ghostly
Corner, wondering if they can return
To innocence like a prodigal son,
Home to end an evil spell,
Might he end up free as in dead
As he walks with a half hope
And pockets of cash not his own.

    When the homes stop falling sideways
And the floors don't break at
Nights step, walking by old frames
When the home knew better days,
Half open eyes walking about
The enclosure's cracked walls
And roach infested walls,
No water and asking themselves
If it's all worth it.

And I return here in a stranger's
Stance with mind wide open,
I watch the leather bucket stands
Dripping its drop like a weeping
Woman for a child.

   The sun decieves here,
Light sheds over burning fountains
Where the trash is unfiltered,
The homeless suffer chronic mist sleep,
    The ******'s eyes closed with
A faithful candle hoping
To open her eyes and save the neighborhood
From itself or its repetitions,
And still they bury one everyday
Too young to go,
The doves humming above when
Another is laid on a slab dead from
Hopelessness of it all.

There are no new arrivals here,
This is the hood after all,
If you can make it out and remember
The overflowing reflection,
Bring back a fresh and humble view
With some dramatic memory,
You may survive the barrio,
But the intimate response
Of sadness when you visit,
Somehow the nightmares never go.

I still feel the air between my soul
And the flesh escapes the drowning,

I am taken by the pain
Because the memory is all i have,

time becomes still
And I am im between spaces
In my mind
That create a universe,

In the inescapable forest of eyes
All that stare at me
I am collapsed like a star
Until the gravity caves

Whisper hope
And fare well to the reality,
All that a wish could be
Begins at the lips and the word
Is the only thing that makes it real.

Once upon a time
I was cursed to follow a woman,
Her bed was the alter of my sacrifice.
    I had three jobs
To pay for her extravagant lifestyle,
    I robbed the local convenience store
to pay for her ttaste in expensive jewelry,
    I have checks made of rubber
That bounce from mall to mall,
   I could not stop myself
For I was fearful she might scorn
Me with her luscious lips,
Stare at me with those entrancing eyes!
  It wasn't always like those,
Before we used to date and eat ice cream
At the park,
Drink at the cabana place I know,
We would make love til the morning.

      But the years went by and I fell
In her web of mysteriousness,
She would wear these dresses
With nothing under and flash me
In privately in public places,
     She would contort her body
That wrote new chaoters in the
Kama Sutra, I was a poor boy
Lost in a world of candy.
Then, she threatened to take
Away all the sweets if I did not
Stop talking to my friends,
    And to make sure this came to
Be she hacked my Facebook page
And said I hated them all,
Each by name,
   She was in a jealous delirious state.
     When I get home from work
She makes me kiss her on her cheek,
The her forehead and slap her on her
Backside, she makes me talk
About which dress I will buy her next,
    Of what make her next shoes I will
Surprise her with, a pair a month
As a surprise, aside from the ones she
Expects on demand,
     My ears burn, I know she is near,
I throw up at how much I know about
women's clothing,
I fainted when she bought her
twentieth purse,
She then says for fainting she had to go
Rethink our relationship so she
Takes her mother on vacation
With my recently cashed 401k.

Its been some years now,
I stopped the three jobs and held on
To one, she did not mind
After I passed her credit check.
    But the woman accused me of not
Loving her and wasting her best years
Because I refused to buy her
A car, she could not drive,
So she brings her Mother home to visit
And after a month I buy her a Camry,
      Her eyes flash in anger because
It was not go to the year,
The new models came out next month
But it was the same year as it is now,
So I have no clue what she is babbling
About,
    I then walked out and lived as a homeless
Man for a few weeks,
I slept in the park and found peace in
Hunger, but the law would
Not let me stay there,
So then I went on to pretend I was
A joyous hobo,
And I lived in a small tent village
With others like me,
Many whom had left their
Crazy wives.

   One day I got a surprise kiss on my cheek,
It was her,
She had found me and I was horribly glad
To see her again,
But I thought I didn't love her anymore.
She holds my hand and says
That she will take care of me now,
That all my troubles are over.
She has bought me a plot
Of land with my tombstone
She said,
That I would be with her the rest of our
Days she said.
I told her I could use a break
From all the wild life,
Get me some food woman,
And a beer to boot.
As I wait for my new old wife,
I kick my feet up and watch
The game,
Next to the remote I notice the picture
Of my tombstone from
Some photo she took,
On it was my date of birth,
And mysteriously my date of....

Here in the dusk of the day I dilute
Myself into anything:

I am a hummingbird and I go fanning
The flora of the forest,
I move in a slow motion when I watch
Myself fly,
However I am also the wind which carries
Each feather in a flight of fancy,
And soon the Luna dances into my
Fluttering wings and I am lit
By the mist of living water as the moon
Makes them tiny falling stars,
A galaxy is lost in my wings,
And soon I am the rain in the night
As I cover the earth in liquidity
With my falling ways
Giving life to life,
And while the rain I covered
My sad human form walking in the
Afterthoughts of the hummingbird,
As I move into the darkness,
And I remember I am afraid
Of the shadows.

Lovers become quiet
When their bodies are raging,
The most perfect silence
When entwined and becoming one.
They search eachothers soul
Because each is lost without the other,
They fight and abandon
That they might reunite passionately.
Their spirits are free
And lurk the earth finding others
But not themselves,
Led by the estrangements of the heart.

They are like crazy peoples,
Lovers are,
Because they fight battles alone
Against the world
And submitting to the moments
Of lustrous passions
And in pain because life
Does not recognize such enigmas.
Lovers can only love,
Led by strings of violinists
Who take them where they have
Never been,
Going and going back again
Into the ****** of music
That plays quick beats and sad tunes.
Lovers are perpetually hopeful
Always wanting and taking the
Next step in a ladder to nowhere.

Lovers make mistakes
And do not learn from them,
Or sadly love the pain so much
They go back for more.

Alone in their own darkness,
Lovers find eachothers
Like tiny embers of burning
Souls filling the vastness of the void,
They cling to one another like
A child to a mother
And then rebel like a youthful
Suffocation.

Lovers are not stable,
They believe in God
And dance with the devil.

Lovers are alone,
Because they need seclusion
So that when they are free from
Themselves they can find something
Else to love,
They are in inexhaustible oil
To the lamp in a dark ravine,
They count drops of rain
And save their tears like memories.

They are empty and full,
Philosophical fools that love
Even those who reject them
And chase the uncapturable bird,
Flexible hearts of desirous fires.

Lover are the truth of humanity,
Crazy beautiful things
And they go loving
And hurting the beautiful life.

When I was young
And a stranger to the world,
With an empty canvas of imaginings
And rhymes,
A fiery red blaster at my hip,
My spirit submitting to the innocence;
My remembrance holds in its selective
Elegance an always evolving memory,
Distinct and treasured
And my soul renders itself
To the innocence of the
The infinite possibilities
Of the moment.

Before the fog aligns itself
To clog the vision behind your mask,
Before the death of life clouded
Your trust in the Heavens,
Before the desolate wave of sadness
Clouded the very star that guided you,
Before the savage tears you shed
When the lie killed your truth,
Before the door closed in the night
And you drowned in the silence,

You left behind a fleeting light
That was created nust for you,
But as darkness falls the words
That were like children,
The days that were like
A thousand lakes under the sun,
The words that scattered like
Light through the crystal memory,
Came forth a boundless vacancy.

And the night is torn apart,
Deep into the hours where
Memory and names do not matter,
When it seems the hope has sailed forever,
The words will echo deep
Into the mind and eternal
Poetry will be born unto thee
The death of the present will
Be owed to the loss of who you once were....

The boy in me weeps,
Because you made a man.

Where is the simple hope
Of a bipolar beauty,
Failingntje hopeless hope,
Defiant of time the rejection
Of God in your goodbye,
I feel a martyr though
Having known you and sacrificing my stainless heart.
Your emptiness
Is a blank page and I feel
Like I have writers block,
And in the correlation
We become the dust of words
Unspoken,
In the silence in the sea
Waves crash on
Each other,
Setting sail the art of your
Self,
Walk away woman
The only way I know you were ever here
Because the sunsets over
The empty oceans only
Exist is the word of the
Unspoken,
Whispers of a presence,
The instable beauty you
Cursed me to love.

We wrote the tree shades
Into it's roots as lovers do,
A first time's last
All said and done with me and you.
       We pained the leaves
        Green under said sun,
        Held our dreams
       For what might come.
Under the twilight
Of broken moons,
    Dancing with oak's
    Nurturing tunes.
And be it that the tree
  Will never fall,
It holds us eternal,
Memories all.

I see the River made of time
And water
And remember that time is
A fork of rivers,
And I know we are like that river;
Dissolution into an ocean of souls.
I see the bleak nature of my mind,
Natural as it is,
I wish to break from this line of thought:

    To be aware in my dreams,
    And to know the fear
    That we call death is but
    Another sleep into another dream.
    To be in the here of the now,
    To rage against the days
    Into the passion of my life
    And celebrate every breath I take.

To find the sorrowful gold
Which is poetry,
Immortal fire of my soul
And rain the embers of words
Upon the page like the
Thunder and lightning in a
Sudden storm.

    To love once again,
    Feel her essence over me,
    As if her body hovers
    Just above me as to feel
    Her electrical current run
    Through every cell that feels.
    
And I know time is a river,
One that never ends,
It shimmers with every
Memory one ever makes,
And every drop is a life the
Soul partakes,
We are born again
Where the river begins.

I am not the night nor the stars,
But the dream experienced.

I am not the touch or the hand,
But the soft kiss of the lips.

I am not the life or the death,
But the spirit of us.

You are not the sun or the moon,
But the light of my eyes.

You are not the rose or its thorns,
But its red like life blood.

You are not the door or the room,
You are home.

I am no one without you,
I dont know what else to write,
Only that where you go I will follow.

Growing out my hair,
But it's hard when I look like
Wolverine's father.

To the warmth of life
And passing through with grace
Of a woman in hand under veil,
Lavished in her unconquered beauty,
Enamored with her saving grace
Amid the elation of first kiss,
Under the spell of first eternity.

And through the veils of silence
When the swarm of sounds of
Making love have devoured the hours
And he stares into fertile eyes,
The truth of his belief in them,
And the prelude to forever's nest,
The dove returns upon white unifications.

But soon the dove will deny the embrace,
And the cold lonesome dove
Will be forgotten in the skies blue,
The touch of ****** prowess ,
The soft moist of lips that convened
A destiny of adornment with kisses
So deep and meaningful that it vibrates
Through times like a phantom flame
From forever's fire,
The bitter flight of the dove with passion
To ravage her body,
Upon the return open does the veil.

Before passion abandons,
Let them return home to nest
The kisses from that eternal night,
That journey for the taste your
Of your sanguinary fruit
Provoking the eternal flight.

Before her lips close at the dove's
Return, lift the veil of forever
On the romantical threshold,
The death and purity,
The light and the venom,
What white veils may hide.

When DedPoet faked his death
He let go all drama,
All the non sense poets seem
To get into because we think we
Are connected.

I DONT KNOW YOU.

And I just want to write poetry
Without me in it,
Without your emotions stirring
An imaginary ***.

I AM NOT YOUR FRIEND.

I am a fellow poet who studies
This craft,
This art,
This therapy that saved my life.
And you and me we are just words
In the the beautifully unstable
Majestic poem that is all in our
Heads.

I BLOCK POETS WHO STIR POTS.

Because I just want to write
Without all the drama.
I feel your eyes pointed at me.
And I could care less.
I faked my death to ****
Any thoughts of friendship,
I am Dedpoet,
Im here to write,
What the hell are you doing?

Because once I hated myself,
I didn't know who I was,
Depression ruled me,
And I never knew life in its forms;
      Suddenly I saw a place,
      Words had shapes and life,
      They held things like truth,
      But most of all truth of self.
See, if you write honestly
Then you can see outside
Of yourself, you become
More aware of the world.
     I figured the world was crazy,
     But I found a certain beauty
     In that too, so I wrote my depressed
     Self, all my pain.
I wrote for me,
to discover myself,
And you know what?
I found that I can tolerate
The world around me and
My crazy self through these lines.
     Now, I don't hate myself as much,
     I try to help others expand their
     Understanding of this artful
     Therapy, and I leave those
     Who cannot see beyond their
     Yesterday in that place.
Poetry is a way of dealing
With life's pain and social
Sharing of the craziness of poets.
But sometimes you see those
Who cannot move on,
Be careful, sometimes misery
Loves company.

Why not the sorrow
Instead of hopeful constellations
From mythical legends,
Instead of the lost Gardens of Babylon,
Beauteous notions
Of the heart's grandiosity?
If everyday is a struggle,
If each day we try to fill
The void we are born with,
If pain is all too real;
We are born into the struggled,
To be friends to enemies
To make ourselves whole
While trying to find the existential
Moment of truth in ourselves,
As we gulp down joy
And sweat about under the sun.
The sorrowing cannot be claimed,
Though its air chokes you,
Though it eats your luster,
There is the other that one rarely
Finds, joy in the light.
Sorrow is too frequently a visitor.

Your vision is stuck in my eyes:
The time you stared at me,
Waiting for me to cross our destinies,
As I crossed, nervous and anxious,
Your smile withered all doubt.

    It's wild, you know,
The depths of those memories
    I hold near me always.

   And from the depths of my love
A taste of your lip gloss climbs
To my lips stilling my time,
I don't know what glimmers
In the kiss, but the fragrance
Stayed with me to this day.

I take you with me
Everywhere in peace or wild times,
In the memory it trickles
Unto the maddening day.

Your the same wild girl
Today as when I first brought
You to my side.

Polychromatic lovers-
I open a window,
Open wide toward radiance
That descends into the primitive
Depths of a fiery spirit,
There upon a mural splendid
I did see like into dreams
With incomprehensible clarity....
Windows like lights reflecting moons
And daily the gaze fills the abyss
Open wide toward uncertainty
And hallucinating destinies,
Window, open window,
Crystalline glass of the soul.

On this afternoon
       The poplars walked around,
I spoke your name;
       The wind took it away.

And the sun glazed windows
     Hold the echo of your reflection,
Sudden grey skies over
       The kingdom of your ruins.

The forms haunt, black dense memory,
          And I named this day
Perfect Sorrow Without You.

If her lies are dreams,
Asleep is the world.
A goddess in lilith
Known as lifetime,
Your sharp tongue hits my
Ears and your words
Your eyes like blindness
Walking in your hope
Fasting on my time,
Wounded my soul
To serve u in fear.

Wonder the newness
Of your necks and Grace's
Postures your portal grooves
Emerging still your shows
Merging all past and future
Like a smoldering body of portraits
That play in memorial interludes
And a man beneath your goddess
Body desires u like a deity.

Consort the flame wonder,
Wonder the shape
Of your heart and only
The light of your dark star
Guides the nocturnal and I am
Priest to the lost on love
That dwell in pain and memory.

Wonder,
Creating the lips that whisper
And I languished
On your gentle desolation
Fiending for the hate that others
Envied upon nimble bits
Of our energies intertwined.

Wonder like a poem that no form
Has, yet deep in love
Understand like simple bliss.

And poetry is worthy
Either way you see it,
Its free,
And most wouldnt spare
A penny for these thoughts

A splinter in nature's flesh,
Blood in the four winds.

Four winds
Scented in the morning.
Carnivore in day,
Four winds, wounded night.

A wound in nature's flesh,
Humanity's blade.

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