A hole grew inside my heart.
I could not fill it.
It's abysmal darkness
Ate away the light,
Took the joy from
Moments.
Your voice fills the hole,
A sun burst inside,
And your company
Is a rain of smiles on the
Empty fire.
           You leave,
The day sets within me,
There within my heart
The hole begins again;
       Your smile is
   The moonlight in the dark.

I'm up with the down,
Friction of the chi,

    Balance in the chaos,

Spoken like

WORD

     Prism  owl
Moon shape
Blood shot
And words just speak,

Spoken

Like the wings of a flutter fly,
Clip the wings,
          Utter die,
******* I
     Am feeling
Like a mad Lora Lee,
    Inspired cordially,
Notoriously Ded and risen,
Hate it love it,
    Specters of the prison

Self .......help

And I'm feeling me,
On my feet
Life not kneeling me,
Onion layers,

Words

Peeling me,
Dealing me out
Because I'm poetrys *****,
Yea I said it,
You read it,
Never regret it,
Fetish for word.....spoken,

Feel me.

Though I feel that
    I am at the crest of the world,
I know I am only defined by words
    With a passion now human.

Though I have limits and limitations,
     I know that my hope exceeds them.

    And even as life tears me apart,
I still choose to write the sorrow and exploit
       The hollows of its weakness.

    Time is a dismembered calendar,
And though days fall like seasonal gestures,
    I neither end nor begin.

For though I am finite,
     The poetic dreams turn themselves
Around and preserve me.

I am a syllable from a broken phrase.

There are those who would think
The world is flat, that holds true
To to preemptive thinking and
Makes the world a little more complicated:
The work of conspiracy is one thing,
I have come to say why not if I
Have not visited the upper stratosphere,
But I believe in a round moon,
Because I see that crescent smile
Among the spirit mending stars,
Though just my little opinion.
I speak to the beginners who will
One day know the truth
Between the lines of thoughts
And truth when round things
Like home and life seem flat.
I stare across a flat ocean,
All the pines that seem linear,
The mountains that dare reach
Further I see with round eyes.
And the complicated is welcome,
As neighbors might stay for the conversation
Just a little longer before night's
Interruption, just some thoughts,
Flat earth round the world,
I say this because I speak to you,
Behind every conspiracy is a friend
With words.

Each vulture has its ugly profile
As if abruptly God did not feather
Its face.
Yet its pure flight with enflamed
Eyes that see the dead as they leave
The body, it perches among the oak
Under the hilly peaks.
His featherless face like a hanging
Veil from the face of the sky.
There among the fields of death,
Wings like a sudden dark cuirass
He cruises like an ancient idol
Wrapped in air,
His talons like daggers into
The sacrificed.
He goes deep into the sky enveloped
In splendid light watching souls
Leave the enormous earth.

Pouring....
Grey like April's ******,
Amassing the draped sun
Until her thighs we're but shadow,

I cried unto the silent,
Inside the storm
Through eyes that
Mimic everyone and there
Is only peace outside.

Passionate doubled man,
Creeping pains like tidal
Drifts in the bipolar temple.
I am not
But there is no one inside to hear
The thoughts crying out
In the deepest wail,
Hear me, smile, walk by me,
You would never know
Inside me the fluxed,
And she is inside me gone.

I cannot write this life,
In my mind we are a draft
Of footsteps with an infinite
Path of echoes that cannot
Be heard or remembered.
     Like rain on better days,
     We step in and out of emotions
     Toward places and moments
     That carve out the spirit.
People: they vanish in sorrowing,
The sun burns through the
Darkness of what I am writing,
And suddenly in this poem
I open eyes that see without
Seeing,
          The soul

Is an existence
                On many planes.

     I am not myself
As I walk on a path of gentle air,
       People become words
And I verse them into existing,
I sink my own pen in their soul
      And they speak in a forgotten tongue,
My eyes are open,
     The transparency of it all.

I assault the vertical experience
And shield myself from
The immobile life,
The prophet of nothing that sees
Through all the doubt and finds
Himself in another place,
I am an abandoned word.
     I see the fade,
The fade is an hourglass of lives
And images in the eyes of lost natures,
I burn, the sun burns, the words burn,
And the soul keeps its solitary
Path in a garden of feverish
Invention,
The mythology of the heart,
Infinitesimal phantoms
Walking in a mist of realised
Regrets, the soul is a martyr
To forever in a foliage of tiny
Deaths, between forever
And the moments,
A soul in solitude,
A conjunction of destinations,
The words are echoes,
The footsteps an evocation
Of the soul.

....And you became like water
That slipped between my fingers,
       there is no then,
Only a haunted now,
I move in the stillness of compacted time
     In the great masses of peoples
With the landscape unmoving
      Under dome of sky
Where regret crushes a tiny star,
      A memorial of light within light,
I am lost in your memory;

           Luminous woman,
          Golden haired woman
          Stretches herself over skies

We crossed the nocturnal
In a final dialogue of our bodies,
     We spoke fire like poetry
Enlaced in the verbiage of lovers,
     But words take final breaths,
    They distance themselves into echoes,
         we named new words
     And constellated sonnets
       Into the night sky;

      The living wound
      Cuts through my life,
       Be it your knife, my sacrifice

And in the kingdom of us
Where we crowned ourselves
In the momentary truth,
       All became our perception;
We created new worlds for our selves,
    We put the sun upon the sea
And set it to sail into our night,
       Everyday was a resurrection
as we governed our lives
     In an ecstatic harmony;

       To see your lovely forms,
            The sun throbs
       In the shadow of your living hour

     In forever I cast myself
        Unto gravitous time,
      Memories embody your form
     And the moment fulfills itself,
         Though the life is gone from me,
         The poem embodies forever,
             Immense as the look of your love.

Pale, bloodless forms, untouchable forms
On beams of whiteness, snow capped
Forms, vague translucent forms,
A sacrificed vision....

Forms of a prophetic body, virginal
Bright innocence in the fire of Saints,
Wandering the silences drenched
In illusion of slow agonizing temptation,

Incandescent harmonies like fallen angels,
The color of blood moons and patron gods,
Suspension of memories in the hesitant
Afterglows of the soothing sight, silent....

Crying the psalms of ecstatic angels
In sensual malices  fertilizing the innocence
In a subtle cascade of last moments,
The light just over the darkness, dawn's mystery

Infinite forms, ethereality of sobbing sounds,
The ideal form of death and birth,
The dream is an exalted stanza,
Sterilization of the mind, exotic forms....

Requiem of the private sufferings,
Form of the lonely charade,
Magnifying the essential need of the other,
Form of chastity for the *****...

The the golden pollen fall upon the dance,
The dancing form of a black swan,
Luminosities under the lunar glistening,
Deeply, subtlety....

Primal forms, animalistic in the body
When the aura is sensually appealing
Gilded upon her ******* and curvature
Like rolling hills under a storm,

Forms like crystalline glory under
Said light with a court of stars,
Vibration of light currents flawed by
Peculiar prints of the flesh

Forms of courage, gusts of love,
Crimson depths of the soul,
Forms like vanity into the black dress,
Conquest of lustrous desires.....

Forms like yours, forms like mine
Bleeding into foreign rivers,
The Dream is a fantastical whirlpool,
The form is confusing and terrifying and
Wonderful....

You inhabit the world
As a sculpture of the wind.
        
Your radiant forms,
Feast of light and shadows.

In the center of perception,
Watching you makes everything real.

Aroma of nakedness,
I devour your feast of forms.

Transfigurations, endless possibilities;
Your body is the the bridge over the abyss.

All the silence does not mean
You are alone,
It is the world waiting for you
To listen;
And in the darkness you are
Found by the light
Of your hope.

And in the tears of your
Pain you are born,
There you become stronger
And it creates order.

Pick up your flesh as your spirit
Lifts,
And speak your happiness
As if the tip of your tongue
Was the mountain's peak
Speaking at the sky,
The burden is a caged bird
And only the conscious can set
It free.
And sing to yourself so that
You know you are never alone
In your body.

Know that your crazy is beautiful
Because it makes you YOU,
Wear your skin like
Your cozy blanket and cuddle
In the warmth of yourself.
     You are not broken,
But scattered like the night
With pieces like stars shining,
    Open your pain and yourself
To the wound of the world and heal
Whatever you choose.

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.

Eastern philosophy,
Western ideals,
Southern simplicity,
Northern reverence;
In the sanctuaries of the mind
These winds are truly worth
Beholding;
The winds have eight directions.

A star and its flurry of appearing
Brethren as they push their way
To the eyes that wish to see,
Its shine which was not there before
And in seconds reaches what took
Millennia to reach the globe of
One's eyes, and the glory that falls
Upon us, what does one do with this?

It slowly comes together
In the depths of the heart,
The hope of forgotten dreams well up and spill their way into existence,
We constellated the sky not in any
One star to lay a wish on,
But instead have used a multitude
To feed the light that haunts
The black night.

And before the pieces come together,
Remember that the heart ,desirous
As it is, will gives the clue to hope and dream
And the key to putting it together,
One only need look up into
The starry abyss, fill it out
With what we can see and make
The dream a reality,
As fragmented as the sky may
Be,
It reflects the fragments of
The broken dream.

So I pierce into said sky,
Make my own constellation,
And when the stars are realigned
Into the order of remembered hope,
There I can see it,
I remember hope can change the stars.....

The bells broken
And the language discerned,
Break free the chains
That hold hearts vague:

I was in a dream awoken
By a wishs crescent smile
And only the blue sun
Had made the light clear.
    I had been made for this,
Clear like voices unspoken
And I am free,
Driven from the boldness
Into the sake of hope,
For hope's sake.

I say now there is nothing
And nothing has bloomed,
The age of orion
When the blood moon rose
And men became lost,
I am,
So that you will be no more,
Lost in the drizzle of the unspoken.

Rain down on me your fire,
I am found in the light of my
Structure,
Thar which they cannot break
And i am a poet,
Nevermore in the mind
Reality is fools gold,
Taken to my chambers
Where my body lays
But my soul is free.....

Never succumb,
Your truth is the dream
That you awaken from.

I walk the land of my fathers
Which is the land of the dead.

They are dead in this land,
They are not alive nor do they speak.

And then I see the ashes of cigarettes
Flying in the air
And smoke from my lungs
Exhale any destiny.

Do I live for them now?
To live as an example for dead men?
Shall I make a world they do not see,
A destiny set forth by corpses?

If I should not need a reason to live,
But to define myself based on
A man's lost wishes for the son
To fulfill his unfulfilling dream,
Then I shall erase all heritage
And find some other destiny.

Even the living,
Those whom I know to leave me
Behind and turn away like a memory,
And if they looked at me truly
Would not recognize me,
Would I base my reasons to validate
My existing the way I choose?

Perhaps if I carried my gun
Like some madman's projection
Waiting for the justice to take me down?
Even more so,
The men who carry guns with a justified
Perception and rake
Killing fields,
Would this bring ultimately the truth
Behind an existence of self?

No. The sad fact is that humanity
Does not have enough humanity
In consciousness to redeem history.

Maybe if all would become idealistically
Precise in a view of moralistic richness?
Change the course of men and women,
Change the animal inside us?

But this is our battle,
The battle itself - again-
We come to the struggle based on
The concept of ethical standards set
Forth by dead men and women.

So then, after this,
Do we put God at the front of
Our malice, change what we
All have done in the silence?

Don't feel so special,
Don't feel sk miserable,
Cry a thousand times and smile
At the moments rarely recognised,
Its all the same, you and me
And them and everybody.

We are here now,
Superfluousness nature and emotional
Animalistic definitions of a raindrop
In time.

No one is here,
Only in your perception,
Which by all accounts
Is as needy as mine.

I came across myself,
Plagued with everyday.

I leaned on a friend,
They come like a seasonal storm.

Of everything I was,
Only the memory remains.

Scars like running water,
From within it flows.

The shadow of today
Reminiscent of who i thought,

But who am I to judge myself
When i am God of my own perceptions....

And the consciousness makes it real,
Guilty I regret I never found myself.

The journey is a witness
Testifying against myself.

Be wide awake
In your dreams,
    Speak softly
    When yelled at,
Take the time to take some
Time,
     Dont worry til your sick,
Be sick of being worried,
    Try to turn the other check
When it's a slap on the ****,
    Sing in the shower
When everyone is home,
     Leave the flowers alone-
   Pick on your nose instead,
Bewise beyond your years
  Before your years are beyond you,
    Read a poem instead of writing one,
        Become a poet by living one.

Deep into consideration
I balance thought and option,
I wonder if the weight of the self
Crowned moment will get to me,
I rush, I sweat, I sit,
I wonder what Im gonna wipe with....

I met her by the garden
Standing in the middle of bleeding
Roses and burgeoning flowers
Caught in the order of the wind.

She spoke to me:
"Write me anything
And put your soul
At the cusp of the poem"

I wrote her a mountain
And became like a lost
Petal encircling the climb,
Half rhyming in a maddening sonnet.

When I finished the poem
I found her reading my words
And tumbling down the mountain
I had created for her.

I made a bed of lilies for her fall
And she never thanked me ,
" Now go and sley the whitest deer
From the deepest depths of a wintry solace"

I clamored in a sley and rode
Three reindeer to a wintry solace,
I found the whitest deer had snow
Upon his face and a half smile.

In the insanity of whiteness I
Killed the deer whom shed a tear
At the notion he was slain
For a hopeful love.

I came down from that cold place
Into The garden where she awaited,
Her face turned white as snow
At the beauty of the slain white deer.

Half enamored with me,
She gazed upon me like a hopeful flower,
"I cannot leave the garden,
Go and bring me the dove under the veil"

I went straight away to the eternal place
Where love meets secretly,
The dove like a saffron  sacrament
Hid shaking under a veil of secrecy.

And I plucked the dove from eternity,
I showered her with a burst of feathers
And she was smiling picturesque
In the middle of the garden.

"You are almost there my love,
Still I cannot leave the garden,
Bring me the flowers whose color
Is like dreams, I am your woman in the garden"

I could not fathom the request,
What dreams may come are never
Colored one stroke or the other
But painted eternal in the minds eye.

These flowers did not grow on trees,
But on the very soul,
I cut them from spirits,
I cut them from my hopes.

I cut like a wounded lover cuts,
Blind at the pain,
Direct at the intentions,
I cut deep from my own garden.

And when I returned from cutting
The flowers from my own soul,
She was no longer there in the garden
Leaving all I had given.

Burdened upon my very self
I followed her and found her destination,
She was preparing a feast of lovers
Reaping all that I had sewn.

I followed her into the garden once
And again, she goes as an eternal
Flower made of gentle air
Through vast flowers and secrets,

I follow where none else can follow,
Into the love of a woman
In the farthest limits of my heart
Into the maddening love again.

One:

She sings in her bed
While she stares at a picture
Of her daddy.
On her lap is a razor
And her monsters cut away
At her lap, laughing.
The girl sings her song
In the empty house.

Two:

Her sky was a daddy,
There were birds and clouds
And the air was pure
In his hands.

The clouds caressed
Her face and her face told
Of a sadness,
Like a cloud her daddy
Wasn't there.

Three:

Heart full of dreams
And eyes filled with water,
I will share the girl's secret:
Daddy was taken away,
Her daddy was locked away.

Unfastened in her defenseless
Blood, she annoints herself interrupted,
She has the scars,
You can see the scars.

Her song sings:
Daddy do not abandon me.
I am alone
In the tears and the blood
I am home, alone.
You are not here,
And it hurts me truly,
You are not here.

Man, so tired of it,
Like a long day's journey nowhere,
I'm waiting on the moment,
But the moment just don't care.

I'll stay and do my part,
Because misery loves the company,
But give me something,
This love is almost done with me.

     Give me a reason,
     I'm standing in a corner,
     Give me what ain't there,
     Still here for her.

     Give me a reason,
     Baby we watching time pass by,
     Love me baby love me,
     I ask the hourglass why....

I'm smoking my last cigarette,
Almost done with the pack,
I'll be going to the store now,
Don't think I'll be coming back.

But if you share with me
Share with me a smoke,
Baby I'll hold back with you
And maybe share that one joke.

    Give me something,
    I ain't asking for much,
    But frigid don't do nothin,
    And nothin I can't touch.

     Give me a reason,
     Say anything just one time,
     Say anything,
     I'm running out of rhyme....

Reasons why,
We can't be done
Reasons why,
Baby you're my only one.....

I have never met such  
A universal conundrum
As the God of my truth,
The God of my folly.

You need God in your life,
They told me once when
I was drowned in to a river
Baptised by a southern gentlemen,

The snakes like the feel of
Grass on their bellies I thought,
And yet get whacked with a
Shovel once discovered;

What did I do to God to get
Born and then asked to find
Him, some glorified game
Of Hide and seek and ye will find?

Still there is no driving force
In this world as to who is right,
Or who is wrong on God's Monopoly board game, the dice roll

And it's my turn,
This poem might burn in hell,
But if I get a get out of hell free card, I might as well finish
The game.

The bodies of my body
Are words,
Instantaneous presence
In a vast meadow of echoes,
Each a syllable dancing and forming
The unspoken:

Unspoken hours
Multiplied by mirrors in the mind
Reflecting changes,
The unspoken breeds silence,
The tongue is an element
Of perceptions,
Once spoken it is realised.
I live within the whispers
Populating the spoken vibrations
Carried by air
Bathing in the light.

In all the alphabetical skies
Drinking the nouns of clouds
I spoke my mortality,
Death is the loneliest word;
But not the first,
I found peace when a landscape
Of prayers in the form of poetry
Spoke all things
And I became a word in limbo,
There in my momentary existence
I saw that God
Is the First Word,
Yet God never spoke,
But always listens......

A God visits a city,
An Omnipotent One whom
Walks among the dire,
And a woman passes through.
Suddenly she sees God
And her face falls to the ground,
Her blood runs cold
And she feels death coming to her.

But God was confounded,
In all the scared places
In all the faces of even astonished angels,
And the Holy spirits that stopped
To witness the moment,
God did not bring about
Her final moment.

And God remained silent
Outstretching His arms.

But the quaking woman would not
Raise her face from the dust
Where people trampled
On the concrete day in and day out
In inept and rushing,
Still even more a lone tree
Buried among the concrete jungle
Shook in fear,
And the consecrated moment changed.

God,
Mercurial and fiery,
Compassionate and understanding,
Did not and could accept
The woman's reaction,
God with His arms outstretched
Would reach for every human,
And every human still
Trembled in His presence.
And God left the city,
His amorous presence could
Not inspire the people with
Holy reactions of love and embrace
For their true Father.

And God went unto the Heavens,
Arms outstretched,
Alone and omnipresent.

Granted men
Have every right under
The God given sun
To be as they wish,
Ignorant and bold,
Sarcastic and cocky,
Beautiful and ugly,
To be assailants to the kind at heart,
Those needing acceptance,
The lonely few with good souls,
And it is granted.

Where is justice
But in a verse,
Behind closed doors in your
Most private collection,
The guilded fist to air
In a drunken rage to what
You had seen earlier
And how we wish we had spoken
Up.

Granted we know it was wrong,
And as we have done nothing,
It was granted....
Oh to have punched his mouth,
Instead I bit my lips,
And they bled too.

I move your memory into the sun,
I know, I know:
Since I lost you I am alone
In the light of the world,
And God gave your wings back I see.
       The light reveals in me
A blindness to the current now,
Instead as stare blankly into the sun
I close my eyes at its revelations,
Like the sound of your breathing
In a mid winter's night,
The differences between them
And the breathing of a warm afternoon
Nap.
     Half of all the steps that ever mattered
To me are gone,
Like fragments of a broken moon,
Its orbit taken by its parent
Planet for getting to close and
Crumbles under the gravity.
   I weep a memory
As I cry to the sun,
I moved your memory there,
Always so bright
I cringe at the sight.

In the stone city of life
Where images circle blasphemous
Putrefied ideolized deities,
   Carved out of morals from
Their former sins, washed in the Rage
Of time, the stairway of years
Has fallen victim to forgetful dogs
In love with a doctrine read blindly
To justify eating one's own *****.
      Within their water we drink
With the stained images in the waters,
     Combating in a paradise of caged
Jubilation, we become a circus act
Of empty faiths,
    Idols exploding with pastors
Armed with ideas,
Sharpened tongues from a library
     Written by the Sun,
Twisted by the thugs with Holy Spirits
That daunt the saint,
Plotting Edens in their own image,
    We beat each other for the same God,
We ask a name,
Bible,
       Quran,
               I see the body of Moses in both,
Where is the other God?
   The same clouds we look at contain
  The same sins we follow from our
Misreading Shepard's,
       This is high voltage rhetoric,
The industry of Heaven,
     The money of hell,
Cain is well,
Abel unable,
The followers of blind leading seeds
To the dirt,
Grow smeared in to the faith,
Roots of dust,
The fallen have come,
On the knees of blood,
We crown the snakes.

What we have here is honest brutally,
And the questions sink deep within me as the answers were what I feared.

Im taken like the worst case
And hope is longing for the end.
Such a dark clarity,
More was a lofty thought
And only I can remember
The best in you.

Me, I,
Conundrum to the nth,
Schematic stress.
Worthy I
Deep yes
Float on paper hope,
Stranded Self imposed
Exiled from grace
Rake the spring leaves

Take away the moments
Fill them with everyday,
I am here for a little while
And forever is nothing.
Truth is I can take it all,
Forever in a daze,
The Dedpoet.

Dust of dawn, red of sun
Hell bent on losses winning
On chances.

I am the discoursed wind flowimg
Like waters edge
Over lost eyes and questions
Remain,
Silence happens
And laced within the legend
Of never was.

Why didnt I?
Haunted happens too.

Thunderclaps in the ears,
A crown of grey hovers,
Sordid and sorrow,
absurdly familiar with a half smile.

Ironic and inflated with nerves
Of rubber bands, atrociously
Used to the jester's tears
And the slow agony of its entertainment.

And we stand when it hurts,
Pace when we are worried,
Let us walk the daily grind......

Through it all we cry and fizzle,
Drowned in the warmth of the tears,
The pain is familiar, the saddest clown!

I am at random,
And the lines formless
In my mind:
A lover and the pain,
A cat and a dying master,
Memories while walking
Among the tombs,
The names are faces.

And the void is a mind globe
Spreading itself into a sphere
As the sweat scourges my forehead,
I wipe my third eye:
      Hours leapfrog from page
To page,
   The sound of poetry is among
Everything I have known,
    A dispersed word translates
Me for the verse,
    But I am insubstantial,
Much as my thoughts.
In my room,
     On my desk,
I brood over the wind of yesterdays
Erosions,
I am nailed to a tree,
Deep into a lifeless tree,
I am no poet saint.

     I am not here nor there,
And when all the words have convened,
      I will find a piece of myself
In every poem,
    Though I remain incomplete.

I am in a room filled with language,
       My life is in another room
Identical
    Depopulated by the world,
The verbiage overflowing,
    One day it is love,
The next, a draft of storms.
     Sorrows,
The million year old emotions.
    Poems come and go
As I decay in the syllables,
   Enormous verses,
The horizon breaks down,
    Lights lightened,
The sky gathers at my window,
     I get more and more secluded,
And the words petrify in my eyes....
    
    The spectre of the unwritten.

Today I have no hearts,
I feel the anxiety of my poem.

I haven't seen a single lighting
In such a dark procession of grey,
Forgive my poetry for how little my words are.

On this morning everyone, everyone goes
By passing my words of poetics.

And I don't know what else to write,
All that is left is the sigh of this piece.

I've connected to the world wide web,
I scream among the faces, I am alone!
If you want poetry, my words are here!

Because of all the days of this life,
I slam so many doors on my own face
And a loneliness seizes my soul.

Today no one has left a heart:
Today I have died a little inside.

Far away.
Just on the other side
Of a grey rainbow,

Under a canopy
Of children smiling
Longing for yesterday.

I am home everywhere.

People at the pass,
           Past people
Through a concubine of memory
           Almost insatiably
They remember.
           The shadow from light cast
On open wounds,
           A meadow of grass whistles,
The sounds of children growing
           The invisible in front of us
           Days stretch like morning awakenings,
They are in the bedroom,
           The curtain brushes violet walls,
Coffee clenches a fist in the air,
          The morning mist choking on the sun.
A stain of kisses as she remembers
          The spill of passion
Torn out from the night into a constellation
           Un named
He is walking back,
With coffee cups in hand,
Back to the night before,
         Edges of forever
As home becomes the void
         They fill out the abyss with
Memory surrounded by life
                 Home
The stab of the sacrifice
         The door is revolving
In a collapse of time
         Daily they drink of another
Looking back
                 Moving forward
Memories clear the mist......

When I am in the middle of a storm,
Or some cold overflowing,
I write the words to keep me warm,
I write the pain unknowing.

Home is in the verse
Where all the sadness combines,
I feel as a lifted curse,
And take back life that is mine.

When the winds carry sorrow,
I poetise the pain,
I no longer worry about tomorrow
Or wether it will rain.

So home is in the words
And I go away to life,
I can become a flying bird,
The metaphor flying away from strife.

Between coming and going
Nothing stays,
A pencil stabs through paper,
There is no desk.

Thr light scatters,
Elongated, alienated,
Staring at the words.

I find myself in the middle
Of this verse,
Motionless;
Where ever I am
                             is home,
There is no place...
      I become
The unwritten.

A confinement to the street,
I likened it to a bliss of pain.
Not extended like an overrun episode,
But the anxiety is sleepless,
When yesterday approaches,
I wrap myself in the ignorance,
Homeless, timeless,
It grows and defines,
Coarses through my fundamental
Lapses,
A boy becomes an atitude,
I wish i had these experiences in youthful insurgencies.

Its someday in the week,
I lose the raptured schedules,
To hunger is life.
To thirst is life.
The misled winter wraps itself
On my frozen life.
A faint emergence of time
Resumes,
There in the shadows
I once knew a man,
The visions of him asking to feed
My souless self.
Stretched by insistent graces,
In a road of certain contrasts,
Gentle into the street,
I laugh; the revolving doors,
I cry; what or who i never was,
A certain kind of grace to be
Within the containment,
the poor, the  restless,
bleeding my facades,
Shredding the faces I once knew
Destroying my world.

Once I sat upon a throne
Lost in the decimations,
I dont know who I am.

Keep walking.
Telling myself as the night freezes
I will be just fine.
Keep walking
Telling myself in minced
Thoughts as hope flutters against
Nowhere to go.
Keep walking,
The sun rises
And blisters on my feet
Calm the night as the safety
Of day lets me rest.

I will bounce back tomorrow,
And the streets become a ripened spring fruit,
Losing myself
And the art of loss
Is no disaster,
Not unlike losing my keys,
Not unlike losing places,
Not unlike losing names,
Until i reconciled myself
At the fork of the river,
Losing myself is not an art:

The beauty was in finding who I was meant to be.

Woman: You are not a drug,
But the rehab, the twelve steps
That I could never take alone.

They say in poems that your love
Is like ******, but you saved me
From the needle I stuck in my arm.

And you are no addictive,
But you are my lover,
My best friend, a reason to quit drugs.

I know myself, and you knew me
Better, I could never have seen myself
With out your clarity.

I am an addict,
But you saved me from myself,
You are my grace, and I love you.

Hope float,
Like the poem you wrote,
Taking note
You put on the words coat,

Hope float,
The day you spoke
She, he, a little choked,
Your shirt tear soaked
And another poem wrote.

Hope float
On a grey day boat,
You napped then awoke
And alone while on the float,
Your heart spoke notes,
Another note you wrote,

Hope float,
Pains tender note,
Swan song loser goat poke,
Not the hero u had hoped,
Your lover with another eloped,
Your heart strings on a *****,
Don't play the dope,
Hope floats,

And poetry saved you.

If you want to get into the society
You must die to yourself
And swallow alot of pride,
The education is interminable.

Here is what you must do:

Become authentic and genuine,
Speak as the world speaks as
If it were from another planet,
Be shiny in your darkness,
Consult with other dead poets,
Know the difference between
A haiku and a senryu
And not count syllables on your
Hands,
Fall in love but be aware
Your heart will be astonishingly
Broken,
Carry a pen and paper even
If you are going to the lake.

And if you have loved and lost
I suggest the following:

Read a book in the middle of a park,
Look dignified while doing so,
Walk around in soliloquy,
Bite your nails in public
As you write;
This suggests a deep thinking
Moment is occurring;
Talk on the phone at home
With a new friend for hours.

If you really want to be
In the society
You must know how to dance
When there is no music,
Wipe your nose with the inside
Of your shirt,
Laugh at the abyss of life,
Cry at the grandiosity
Of time,
Look in a mirror and have a staring
Contest,
**** the paper you write on
With sonnets about ***.

Remember also that you must
Conquest the metaphor and allusions
Of yourself,
This involves but is not limited to:

Falling for a circus acrobat,
**** roaches and then write the
Experience as a poem,
Become part of a vicious cycle
The break it,
Able to appear and disappear
On demand,
Kiss a baby that isn't yours,
Ask a newly married person
For their phone number,
Go to the Pyramids of Egypt
And see what the big deal is,
Cross the street using only
Your peripheral vision,
And finally to become a full
Fledged member,
Well that one is easy,
We all do it anyway.....

That I might sink my
Prophesy into your revelations,
The body of creation
In every contour,
My taste is numbed
By the flavor of your kiss
And know that your
Touch is a flow of sacrifices
That die into every pore
And create worlds:

I walk the lustful word
And pace in anticipation
With the poem,
Written by the hungry
Language of my desire.

I imagine that I long
For her touches,
I miss the smell of her hair.
I'm lonely without her.

My friends tell me it will
Be ok,
And I try to surround myself
With their support,
But sometimes I just want to be
Alone.

I suppose I'm lonely because I
Miss some one that I love.
  I guess I'm only alone
When I choose to be.

I'd rather be lonely than alone.

I have built to the sky
Geometry called home,
Where birds sing along
The rolling oaks,
And valleys curve the words
And signature of earthen
Memory write poetry
On the mind.
I have written love on paper
Digital and the waves have
Crossed the planets one day
The stars,
That poetry made me whole
And the world
That beat me down told me
I could not survive,
I am here speaking the beauty
I have become
Because I am absorbing
The best I can the position
I have been given,
Look, I am Me,
Take me as I am
As I have learned to live
With myself among the masses,
There is light and I walk
Now burning the shadows
Out of thoughts
And I write myself clean.
I am beautiful
Because I know that poetry
Is too.

When you were a phosphorus angel
     There was almost light,
And your glow became like the Fallen.
        
When you were holding my hand
       Your prints took over
Mine, like a stolen identity...
Willingly.

       And I was,
Because you were my existence
    In the abyss,
And your luminous spirit a breath
      Underwater.

And you were the storm
     That I left the shelter for,
A little grey can go a long way
      In a rain of sorrowing embers.

I was the reconstruction
     Of your project,
Rebuilding is never easy
But you stayed til I was me again.

       Life is big,
But so little in time,
     I am because you were,
I was because you're gone.

And where is your life
After you have faked death?
(I can hear the whispers)
I send myself notes to find
And surprise myself with.

Even though I lost my friends,
Even though I am just a shadow
Of my former self,
Suddenly here in the mist
I see them all nameless.
And in the mist where madmen
Believe in dreams and scare
Away hapless prayers,
Suddenly I cant tell if my
Arrogance was elegant
Or simply a fools sacrament.

Perhaps-maybe
I will pulled the switch
At my own execution and stand here
Alone searching for love
Among the thorns,
Alive but Ded,
And maybe someone will give
A **** enough to stop me
From further looking like
The insane narcissistic man
I believe myself to be.

Still I feel compelled to teach
A parrot a badword or two,
Never again will anyone mourn
Over me,
Sad because the tears brought me
Such a sorrowful joy.

Begin here
The forbidden hope of the poor,
The firmament under shimmery
Skies sailing dreams on the moons
Glass light.
Begin now,
What dreams may come
I become many things,
I am the man who loves,
However I am also the man
That hurts from the same source.
And I can't help being all the things
A heart desires,
Two hopes on my chest
And soon I am the world
With my solar ways and my
Lunar thoughts,
Moonlighting on the precipice
Of the promised,
The fugitive love that conquered
The momentum,
I proclaimed myself the undefeated,
And I,
Here and now
Become a bird
With a song of  flight
And all the treetops
Like a sea of greenery.....
Listen, my wings flapping,
I alone will dream and conquer,
The infinite hope inside
That yearns for my humanity,
And that makes me king,
For hope is the glory of all men.

Lyrical waterways,
Prepare for a backhanded slap,
Then a second blow;
I don't care about your personal
Problems, as long as it's written
Poetical, you and your weeping
Streams with a deluge of emotional
Lamented problems are tolerable
As long as it's written with some class.
        Now give me your poems,
Though only few draw water,
I do not claim to be the best,
Merely a lover of it,
I will heart you, you will see
Lightning and like the child of a nymph
Be happy to see the fetching comments
I leave to you.
     I will squeeze sweetness from you,
All it takes is a click, light footed words
I read beforehand when you copied
Off a poet you thought no one had
Read before( I study a lot more than you know)
Ever the herdsmen
I preach a doctrine of poetic originality,
And lately I see few worthy,
Myself included,
Now pucker your words like lips
And lavish this poem with a heart,
Or don't, I am real,
Or fake, and I only love poetry.

I face the neighborhood that took
My mother's life,
The same one that I watched turn
Many cousins into ****** addicts,
I burn but I am not consumed:

I write the pain on a slab of Jade
Watching a fleet of dead roll by,
The names will stand among the tombstones
While in mute heavily grieving the nocturnal,
I am filled with the eternal present.
      The memory is a flame
      On open wounds,
      I am thirsty,
      But there is no water......

Time has done its hardest on me,
My blood courses more deliberate,
My teeth at a grind,
I want to fling all the bullets back,
Take the knife from Victor,
Out of his animal belly,
Out of his organism belly,
His human belly;
Life is an ancient gesture
And the hood is the very survival
Of those unfit for society's expectations.

I am Westside,
And I am still here writing
Away all that was taken,
The words plunge itself like
The needle I took from my arm,
A perfect drug that never quits you
And courses inward only to grow.

I am Westside and I am still here,
I am Westside and I still cry,
All the pain I drink with beer,
I push a fight and try,

I am Westside,
Glory in the hood,
It wasn't the best side,
But I always knew where I stood,

And still I carry on.