I will hear your voice lost
In the echoes,
But not in my soul.
I will see you as a star falls
And is reborn when my eyes find
The one no one has seen before,
       And the moons will cry
At your mysterious essense
As it leaves for another place;
      All the sky eclipses as you go,
I belong to your sky
And I wonder if you are truly gone,
    I think to myself:

How can you be gone,
      When you are still in my heart?

Just one more time,
In a time that is yesterday
In footsteps at the edge,
Your shadow over my grace,
My grace over the light
Darkened by truths
I dont want to hear.

Just one more time,
Lie to me;

Evening when dark trails
Beg for weary steps,
Forward never straight,
Long ago I  looked back,
A storm of your gaze
Into the deep night
A deep premonition
Shatters my core
And hope is a reason to doubt;

Lies returning
What sinister words
Do cast themselves by the noose
Of your voice,
Enter the storm
A thunder repeats with
A missing remorse
Filling the echoes of your
Missing self...

Lie to me,
Kiss me,
The poison laced
Eithin the spectrum,
Colorblind

Lie to me,
I will listen as the day leaves,
Into the nocturnal
I return,
A spring of deaths
The footsteps echo
In another time
Where you invent my self
To love you is a lie,
And i believe in you.

Life holds in it's hands
The perceptions eye,
The path that goes on
And the souls that stay;

Life breathes from the womb
Of on the sleepwalking people,
Life is a birth of clarity
In a world of crystalline doubt;

Life breaks and molds the light
We use in the momentary existence,
Wielding great joy and furious
Strife at the throat of the silence;

Life is the Word spoken to the other
As naked thoughts unknown,
Hooked by love,
Dissolved in ignorance;

The living bound to the dust
As quickly to beauty as the moment,
All are sacred
If only for a little while.

My Mother was killed, along with
A cousin, many friends like brothers.
Twisters of death's erosion
Scooped me up and led me on
The path of vengeful living.
I had to make something from all the
Death, a pile of flesh staring out
At the quarter moon, so
Unknown that many
took me as orphaned.
     Yes, me, Dedpoet, bearer of words
     Once was lost in the fire's reign.
     I would walk in the rain catching
     My mother's tears for her lost child,
    Hoping to catch the light and be
     Taken into skies hopeful greys.
I became a rock that heads were
Decapitated upon, the house of regret
Stirring the animal inside to prey
Upon that which preyed on me.
Deep inside wept a little boy poet:

      Fallen in the abyss,
      Mother's golden light,
      So far into the unreachable sky...

I was told that if I didn't straighten out
I would be in a cage with no words,
But the words welled from deep springs
Of pain that could be written on
A window using the vapor on my breath.
I danced the pale moonlit nocturnal,
I breathed the night, the point of a gun
With indecisive fingers.
I was thruster into my own war,
Living already in a warzone,
I was the the living shadow of
A Nightingale bathing under darkened
Splendors of city lights and barely there stars.
In the day, the gardens of vengeance
Were planted with fresh seeds,
I was the bloodlust of the West.
The sunlight bathed my heated words,
All the while I fell in deep love,
A collision of an unstoppable desire
With an immovable lust, we engraved
The names of lovers with a scorching pen,
A hopeful poet came alive and the words
Beckoned the Heavens attention....
  
         Little boy, little boy,
         Close your eyes
         Upon the thorns,
         Life never stops piercing.

The days became a hopeful cloud,
The nights were countless,
Splintered into a thousand moons,
The words of vengeful allusions
Fought alongside the love for Her.
Lucky the Raven, nevermore,
I still must be here to remember,
Lucky the dog whom bit his owner,
Homeless now but free!
Lucky the life that dies young,
Never to look back,
Like water at the foot of the mountain,
Here the river begins.

     I am alone, the years fall like grains
     In the hourglass, I have shed many skins,
    I see the losses and the dead fallen
     From uncertain graces,
     What had vengeance reaped?
     I wait for you all in the other side,
     The words I leave will take you there,
     The last place of the little boy,
     He will real the stars and bathe in the
     Sun with a Mother he lost so long ago.
     He will kiss his lover and the twister
     Grows calm, the love will cure the deepest
     Affliction, he will die in her embrace,
     Born again in her kiss, he leaves the gun
     At the foot of the Word, and the words
    Gush from his body from a nocturnal sorrow,
    And immortalised pain will reign here,
    The cycle of life is an embrace of tears,
     Love the enscription on every one shed.

Upon my tombstone
Is the covenant of poetry,
The escape like water
between the fingers,
The distance between
Now and then is but a pen stroke.

With a sigh I wake from a dream,
The cold morning fills my eyes
And that wonderful place
I was just now begins to haze.

I question everything,
I  breathe myself into existence,
Here and now,
The quiet longing fills me
As the beginning of this day repeat
As a thousand before them

      I must seize the here,
      Trouble grasping the now,
      My last returns to secret
      Cold peaks.

Did I lose my life in the dream?
I'm here now, am I?
Is this another dream, born from
Loss and pain and everything I
Hope to gain?

I am lost in the morning:
Coffee,
Surely I will emerge from this stupor,
I blink and I am walking toward
My tomb of toiling,
Compensating life.
Sometimes in the middle of my work
I can meditate,
A single mind and body emerges,
The cradle of my being becomes
An iceberg thawing unshed tears,
I am winning/losing my day.

Stop! Enough!
I feel faceless in a sea of faces,
Said my mind
Stuck in its grind,
The hours are vapor.

        Withdraw into ghosts,
        The eye with you always,
        To lose the self is to-

I am the mirror of a reflection,
The reflection does not live,
God the stranger in my prayers,
I myself, the essense of me
Is not my definition,
But if I am what I do,
Am I nothing?
God, lord of my conflict,
I pay my bills and taxes in the architecture
Of your world,
Why am I in slow decomposition?
In this parade of shadows,
Where is the true meaning?

      Child of the dust,
      Time is no promise,
      Do what you can
      While you can do it.

Evening:
Home and my forehead is taller
And taller,
I sense the moment faded
But here,
Life I am your hostage,
I am tired again,
I begin to freeze again,
Luminous cold setting in
On a deep darkness,
Fill me with liquid love,
I drink and I fall into another
Dream/life.

Bottom feeder.
He looms under tables
Awaiting sloppy eaters.

At midnight
Scurrying about
With buddies in tow.

Fast paced,
Head too small for his body,
Sneaky fella.

In the kitchens
Of single men,
He feasts.

Hidden from the world
He speaks secretly,
Awaiting midnight snackers.

Life and other things
Have kept us apart all these years,
Since the day we never said goodbye.
And now grey sprinkles my hair
And I think I'm getting mature....
But I still live hungry in heart,
The sound of your whispered words
At my neck,
Our bodies locked in dance;
Oh the hell with it,
I'm still crazy about you!

Insanity is a somber flow of waters;
Its rain above the gentle mind
Is a murmur of moaning thoughts
Ina crooked wind, a subtle chill
In the distant breeze.

Suddenness like air breathed
In torn skies, among the vivid blue,
The thoughts collapsed to the startled
Earth like a great ceiling of copper
And shadow.

The Asylum beneath the slow shadows
In a lunatic fringe upon thistle fields,
Flowering Insanity's bloom like
A vibrant Willow under a filtered sun.

The liquid pain in tangled clots
Of distant sanity unlocking
A rapid downpour of condensed
Versions in reality's mixed afternoon.

The Asylum takes in the deep grief,
The rain takes a pause,
The day long and sad,
In the greyish distance the light
Hits though the smallest window.

Like cigarette burnt to the stub,
Like an empty bottle of Jack,
      Kinda the way it's been.
Like reruns of Seinfeld on a Saturday
    1a.m. slot.
And nobody notices, yeah my days
Have been like that.
     Like bloggers on a subject like
Star Wars and little
Pimple faced teens arguing lightsabers....
     Pertinent subjects have lost
Their way out of my life.
      There is a whole lot of nothing,
But like cigarettes burnt to the stub and
     An empty bottle of Jack,
Like days fading on a memory card
With 300 pictures,
      And the ashes that get swept
Just this side of the puke
Of the armchair.

Liquid days when the morning
Mist whispers and the woman's
Touch softens in bed under
The pelting romance of raindrops.

Moist Earth of liquid hearts, when
The solitude melts away from
The the tumbles grey and the
Light flashes across the myriad
Of sky tirelessly crackles and lifts
One out of the depression.

Steaming Earth, when the body
Is melting like clay in summer's
Tears, when two become one in
The moist of the Rivers, water turns
Into life and the soul is freed
In youth.

Wet Earth when the Angel's tears
Cry for their knowingness,
Who wish to make the Fall
And bathe in the love of man,
Petrification of the motivated as
The tears flow down un-sinning .

Rain upon the Earth,
Like a woman in her bath,
The stress falling away with
Each droplet,
The edification of her day,
The supplication of living water,
Up on the squall we dance
In thought ,inciting the flood
Within a liquidised existence.

Pieces like scattered lumens
On black days,
Brighter than sunsets
Elongated on arched spines
Under the Saturday evening
Impression left upon
A lifetime......

Bits like kisses
On the nape where bodies
Trembled under passionate skies,
Under quarter moons
Luminous embrace
Where only life was made
By extracting the sweetest
Nectar of moments
Born in the constellation US.

Peice of me,
Peice of you,
Making life whole.

Words are the wombs of a thousand verses
Opening a thousand lives.
A man sees a woman;
Let his love unfurl in a sonnet
Of the trembling soul.
Invent new eyes to see the beauty
In the words of different
Souls giving life to a lifeless thing.

We are the words of life,
We invent new worlds,
We become the memory of the world,
But we are not the dreamers,
We are the dream realised.

Poets, why talk about birds,
Let them soar in your poems!

Because through poets one
Can see beauty in all things,
Life and lifeless;

We are tiny little gods!

The dove has flown away into whiteness,
The doe filled with an unborn verse.
Live, little poem- yet to be written-
And the words gnaw away like a dark wolf.

The eye of the world is on you,
The ink is drowning on my page.
The pearl of thought escaping
My oblivion born into a dark innocence.

Little poem yet to born
Up from the nightingale's journey
Into a subtle abundance,
Like an invasion of white lilies.

From my graveyard of angelic thoughts,
Flowing like a blind star,
The creature that is born
Like the Apple untouched in Eden.

There is a humanity which never stops,
Each an elementary piece
Of every human.
        Look at the sun which gives light
To all the darkest crevices that
Think they are hidden.
     See the nature in its flawed beauty
Through your innocent eyes which see
What you perceive as
Right and wrong,
      See how the river splits and still
Finds its way downwardly as well
As all the mimicked frenzy
As bullets fly laterally.
      It drowns itself in the moist earth
And eyes turn away to find beauty
Elsewhere in this lunatic frenzy,
     See how pretty the tombstones are?

And when you can see this light,
Then and only then you
Can see the darkness which hides
In its luminous lie.

Lost girl,
      Daughter of fire,
      (She wears black armor)
Raining your embers
          On the ecstatic boys,
          You sacrifice a piece of
Your innocent luminosity.
        
     Lost girl,
Ancient fire within,
        Your heart is an obsidian castle,
Formidable walls on a heap
Of broken lies( the boy wears white armor)
      
   Lost girl,
Holding bloodstained lilies,
       Crying the fire through
Crystalline eyes,
   Find yourself
And open your heart like a wound.

A self crowned sorrow
Wears the plumaged men,
And beauty is in the momentary truth:

    The concrete jungle offers
    Dazzling constraints,
    Into the ruins of their cities
    They become broken statues
    Gnawed by thoughts.
    The sun sets for a last time
    In the lively ruins.

Hearts break, minds suffer.
A man of stone passes
A man of stone,
They unearth lucid dreams
Passing by and only wondering
What resurrection could be had
In a simple "hello".

    To each an island
    In a tower of silence,
    Their light builds
    Shadows that haunt.

They pass the lovely forms,
Green pines on a shore,
Rolling hills of oak,
The swaying wind
Kissing the sea.

     In the ruins they dwell,
     Propping high into empty skies,
     To stretch their senses
     Into the living hour:
     The truth escapes
     Their brimming cups.

I grew wings
For you,
And became an impatient moth
Circling your fiery brand.
      
And I became like water,
Your thirst from the storm,
Daily you drank of me,
The drought in my body.

So I became a wild dahlia,
And you cut me from the stem,
The flower that grew had not yet
Known what it was to bloom.

    Devastate me,
I am blessed with every wound
Your love opens, blessed is your knife,
And praise the alter, I await.

      Cut me a thousand times,
     I am your crimsoned lover,
The rose blood is flowing with your
Everything, I bleed deeply.

      Instead of a ring of promise
Love, I will make a ring of thorns,
I will wear a necklace anchors,
They would drown me into you.

      Devastated:
You will see me smile,
You will see me hurting.

      And when you realize the love,
You will cry for me,
And you will be mine forever.

Who gave the heart the beat;
Life blood and destroyer of
Lives,
The tree with roads branching
And the destiny unfolds
In an implacable red,
Luke Autumn's kiss to the wind
And the grace of a falling leaf
Emitting the eternal harmless
And sweet,
Love and a kiss of many deaths
As every moment is a lifetime.

Perceptions,
           (The heart desires,
             Action at a distance)
The slow burning
Needs when the eye meets.
       Was she there before?
       The manifest destiny of its mechanics,
       How world upon world was stacked
       Until finally what the heart
       Wanted comes to be.
The fire's ancient name
When the name burned
As the first words spoken
Into existence.
      Quantum lovers to the atomic
      Extremes, the matter cannot
      Be mathmetised, fate rarely explained.
Great the string,
Silhouettes of her body
In a thousand bodies,
Only one looks his way.....

        Fallen star
        In the endlessness of many worlds
        Beneath the eyelids electrified,
        The girl, only the girl,
        I see through a tunnel
        Like destiny in a wormhole.
Tiny energetic particles,
Trillions inexact,
They lay motion into desire,
The motion becomes a walk,
A walk become a word,
The word becomes them both.

   They explode like comets
   Too close to the star,
   The spirit intertwined,
    Evaporation of perceptions,
    Both accidental and fated,
    The quanta come together.
A series of waves
That take part in duality,
Two lovers, immeasurable destinies,
Coming together,
A scarlet queen,
A quartz king,
Fire on the head of the energy.
      Silent in the moment,
      He holds her hand,
      Connectivity on the sub atomic level,
The wheel spins,
The procession of the heart
Began as multiple universes collided,
The love devours all destiny,
In a rain shower of possibility,
The boy meets the girl,
They fall in love,
In this love quantified,
All the matter and energy
Swim in a pool of desire and need,
Never can it be measured,
Destiny is but
A prelude to a kiss.....

I read that book with the opposite
Title, Great Expectations,
And I realised it revolved
Around the dream in a dream,
You know the one where after
A long suffered road,
You win.
      I don't win much, I forgot what
It feels like to be that go to guy,
That one everyone wants to be around
When your aura suddenly fills
A room, I was never terribly handsome.
    So I decided to lower my expectations,
    I watch CNN, Fox, and see the world
    Lowering expectations for the future,
    I'm just going with popular culture.
And now, I'm a winner,
I surpass everything I
Want to accomplish.
Like today, I said to my self,
"Self, your gonna treat yourself
To any item on the McDonald's
Value menu"
And I did, A dollar and nine cents
For an ice cream, and who doesn't
Like ice cream?
So I won, because
I seized the day,
Captured the momentum,
And evey day I accomplish
Little dreams,
I win and them some,
Because if life is a marathon
And I'm jogging slow,
I might as well feel the air
And watch everything as I go,
I'm here and now,
Not Tomorrowlands dream,
If I want what I want,
I go and get that ice cream.

In a flash
I tore up the scapes unseen,
Where are you in all the
Fogged visions steamrolled into
The daily?
And I breathe,
Calm your dear pen
And bleed the world of its
Heart, there is only the Word of
Yourselves dear poets,
You are a fleece of luminosity,
Here in the darkness and
I am king of nothing,
Still I am a king!

Let the world wear
A dose of the words,
Light ut all up,
Lumens, poets.

We are supposed beings
In  thought
Made of infinity,
Passed by momentum,
Mediocre wonders
In a marvelous prison
Whose door
Leads to
A universal soul!

he wanted to be the
redwood tree among the giants
but she refused to be
his sun

he wanted to be the lion
hunting in the wild
but she refused to be
his jungle

he turned every direction
and became dizzy
and looking for his balance
he turned to her
but she refused to be level

he tried to become a romance
but she was too hurt
he turned himself into light
but she always carried
a blanket of dark

he decided to become
a man
and though she refused to still be
a woman
he decided to love her
anyway

a deluge,
         a flood,
water flows
          as a seedling
drowns itself in a word
inaudible            deaf
the fertile ages like a promiscuous fire
         buried with flames
passion                 bound to the world
by passion            it is also released

           man the animal
           speech craft of a deserted tongue
filtered                 thoughts retreat
         to fallen realities
sorrowing confusion revolves
      around the charred light
burn the natural flower
      let loose the animal craving
drink of the chalice
from the fictitious mind
         all the world on fire

animalistic morality
      the flame circles
the weeping lion
amidst the penumbras skin
     they weep for the magnetic night
burning inside a compassionate luminosity

        man/animal
a surge of atonements
for the rage inside us

Be you with me,
And I'm just frustrated
Don't mind me,
And youn dont,
Because I give my all
And it's actually what u needed.

Lost in the entrapment,
A small amount of your waters...
A sip and for the thirst
Of the Ded, truth in pieces
Float in an ocean of lies.

Masks you wear
Are all the faces that made
You hide away.
They may hate you in reflection,
But don't let that be what you
See or feel everyday.

Behind the mask
Is a cage,
Only the real can set it free.

Mask off
And all I know Is real,
I have no friends.

How your arms reach
Like the moonbeams
Over the Mexican jungle,
Only the smallest tips
Of light enter over her canopy,
    The vanity of
The first moon of the wet season,
The escaped light that hits
The grounds,
  How little the canopy
Can be seen when
Planted so firmly to
The ground!

Its a divine day to think about
The apocalypse, to walk along
The final shores before the
Tsunami take me!

I take a walk in the night wonder,
I look on hopeful stars and think
If the inter- continental ballistic
Nuclear warhead will strike down the skies.

Sometimes in abstract silence,
I see comets the size of a football field,
They pass me by and say hello,
But they never seem to end the world!

And standing upright looking into
The oblivion, I feel the cool breeze
And sense the Ice Age coming on,
Then it all comes to a stop:

I realise I am just a man with
Too much time on his hands
Watching networks news and
Find that the end of the world is
Everyday.

I follow the broken jasmine
In the path I know will lead me astray,
Did this huge distance away
From myself deceive my heart?

    I know that my lifeless eyes
    Have followed you here
    Among the Fallen inhabitants;
    I joined you in the abyss.

A wave of punishment daily
Gnaws at this strange ignorance,
My retreat into a dark innocence
Leaves me in a retreat inward.

    You are the dead flower in an
    Arched mystery, I know the path
    I have taken to you,
    Death has shown me how
    To walk its valleys:

Illusion or love,
Held captive by my mortgaged soul.

My hands open the curtains
Of yesterday,
I am lost in the scenery
Bigger than today.

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.

I am Mexican:
       Brown and forgotten inbetween,
       Brown like the dirt poor I am.

Iv'e been in hard labor:
      I do what "they" don't want to anymore,
      I am the backbone of the working class.

Iv'e been poor:
      I see no handouts under the pyramid scheme,
      I am the Latin prince of the ghetto.

Iv'e been a hustler:
      Every penny earned off my back
      Makes dollars for "their" pockets.

Iv'e been here:
      I am no *******,
      I am the American dream,
      Still I must show identification.

I am Mexican:
      Brown and four generations deep
      American, I am still
      The immigrant face.

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.

Reflections
          Reflecting:
The taste of April's melancholic grace
     On your lips,
Your touch like a drop
    Into the well of sorrows;
I reflect your veil of dark brooding.

     A hint of music
On the path of your footsteps,
      You dance to a tune
Tangled in the helix of the orchestral
     Candors,
I reflect your naked liberation.

The scent of ocean in your hair,
       The hint of the sea foam
As your presence is like
A crashing wave,
The weight of your living waters;
    I reflect your essense.

Along the graze of seasonality,
      I see a Winter fade
After the October,
     The sickles of my fingers
Harvesting your body;
                       I reflect your ***.

From the depths of mirrors,
     Like the sun kissing the ocean
Sending ripples along
   Her blue shield
Sending cosmic shivers;
     I yield to your mirror.

Like a moonbeam
Brighter than the Daystar,
I am blinded by
Woman in a soft
Midnight garden;

When the day kisses
The night,
The light is weeping.

I walk alone.

The soul with no
Absolution
Is an infinite impossible.
My throat caught
In a tearful choke,

The missing song
Under the sun
Is the Moon's tender
Presences.

Love escapes
Into a masked misunderstanding,
Another misunderstanding
Hides the Father in me
Under this misguided wing

I quiver under a fools blade,

I love like a child
Lost in a forgotten story,

Missing.

You are the companion I speak with
     In the abyss, intimately.
In perfect spirals,
    And in the silence you are formed,
A silhouette of words draped
In dreams from the deepest dreams,
      Mistress.

        You trace a lineage
From the words of Eden
And guide my hand to forbidding hope.
      The echoes of my echoes
As my voice becomes your tongue,
      A polyhedral mirror
Reflecting a thousand embers of thought,
     Fire in the ink.

     We are alone-
Until we return to this place,
Back to this world,
Back to this house,
Back to this room,
And I am left in a tomb
With no lust for life,
I lose myself  to my flesh,
Alone in a sea of faces,
      Faces that see my naked being.

Why try to construct with words
      What the Spring blew
Between storms and kisses
      Thorough your memory,
On old paper?

The tongued fire that speaks
     The dense desire to the lover,
Is now only descriptive descendant
      To what was....

Poetry is the moment.

First Encounter

A beginning
      A seedling
Fertile youth
        Ageless gaze;
By passion they were found,
    And by passion they were lost.

*---------*

    Holding Hands

Buried with touch
    Amidst a new language.
The world beats
    Pulsating claritys,
Falling confusions,
      Dreaming awake....

*--------*

    Smiling For Him

Embers of hope
    Shedding darkness,
A surge of feeling
    Insisting existence:
The soul alive!

*--------*

         First Kiss

Flames of magnetic touch,
   Fire knots in the stomach,
Without words
    Wet syllables speak
Unlacing Passion's verbiage.

*---------**

    Saying I Love You

Children of the dust
    Reach a balance
Within the universe;
Destiny unfurls
In a creation of words
Speaking like children of God.

Restless eyes,
The luminaries winking,
The night, as if were
The Moon's stage of solitude
Shines vast in the nocturnal glory,
Revealing silken flattery,
The gentle light caresses.

There is a connection
Of the luminal glow
To the eyes whose mind is
Trapped in a cavernous shadow
While fathoming uselessly
Unto the revolving clockwork
Of living,
Like a trance between
An unknown familiarity.

Thoughts carve out timelines
In jigsaw's grip,
The Moon is a portal
In deafening silence,
Faceless memories guided
By forgotten constellations and
One realises the depth of life
And the race of time,
And come sweet soul searching
In the needs of the spirit while
Trembling from regret.

The solitude is an ocean
Keeping one afloat in a
Suspended profile,
Crystalline clarity like a mirror
In polyhedrons,
So much reflection in restlessness.

And we can drown
In this ocean bathed in the Moon,
Like reliving or redoing
All the past making it so
Pure only our souls know
The life lived in another version.

When the thoughts calm
Into the the minds realignment,
The light becomes forgotten
And the nocturnally calm of the spirit
Flies to live another life;
All that remains is the solitude.

Empty streets,
       Squinting lights,
The ghost of a woman
      On her morning stroll,
Shadows of light,
       Birds constructing songs,
Coffee opens the invisible,
       Galloping into the day,
Ready for battle.

My touch discovers your
Body
I rain embers of desire:

The light over the portico
Elongated morning
     Your lips kiss the horizon
Inauguration of morning
       Your hair is a foliage
Tracing destinations
       The bed is a cloud under
The exploding sun
  I am in a daze
Perfect spirals

    The day ends with your awakening
Nothing can follow
    My eyes drowning in the
Rivers of your nakedness
    Time pauses
In the eternal moment
   Between the caressing
Improbable reverberation
    Your smile tears
Away shadows and reasons
    I swing on the light in your eyes
And leap with no fear
   At the precipice of the day
Cliffhanging the morning

" There is a name of God on every
Child's lips, and the word is
Mother"

    I looked upon her body
That began to leave itself
Suddenly into some stairway
I could not see in my grief.
    
    Mother of the Light,
You took the dawn with you.

The gilded heights that took
You, not the blameless bullet,
But the fleece of flesh you wore,
Now shed to spread your wings,
       Watch over you children's
Children mother of biological blood.
   Cover every atom, every electron,
With your mist that went away in
A flash, your delicate nature be blessed
Hovering over the earth.

    Ceremony of children,
Loving a mother never stops.

Beyond the quarter moon's melody,
Reminiscent of ****** passings
               The Edge deflecting certain ends,
A Look into the Child's goddess,
And the warmth from beginnings
               Like eternal lamentation of nocturnal
Dreams into sudden arms,
A cry for that crystalline
              Where time has no rapture
And The Edge seems a return,
I dive deeply and willfully

             A certain fate after interwoven years
Life I bid you.....
             A fall to be reborn.

And who the hell cares?
I will not close my eyes
Or shut my ears to the world.
Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock-
     I am a born again sinner
Clamoring with a restless species:
Yeah that means you all,
Flourishing in misery
Over the shrinking planet-
     Babies making babies
And I see them all becoming depressing
      Fires, like little stars flashing
For a tiny moment the exploding
     Searching for the abyss called desire,
I cannot say my name,
      Who the hell cares
When the world is a buried sphinx
Under a questioning of programs,
    Asking:
" What's this life for!" in blue tears.
        The blood flows under
Closed wounds,
   Yesterday and today when the revolution
Was never fought and the thought
Comes crashing down against
     The youth in the dawns troubling light,
    Children, it never stops!
The dream dies at the impenetrable sky,
   Children with half smiles
And a sigh of anguished breaths,
     Collection of living dust and bones,
Into the bitter night the dove
Itself cannot rest,
    I cannot say my name,
At the right hand of oppression
    Flourishes an anger building
Like a mutilated rose roaming
    For a sense of destiny.

I fall, you fall,
      We are convicted,
Living in a shadow of nothingness,
    The forgotten scent of the dream,
These strange sounds that flutter,
     My God give me a destiny,
But I cannot say my name,
    I remain a face in an ocean
Of solitary faces,
      We look out on the road,
There is death passing through,
     A tiny rumble in the heart
Then cries:
      FREEDOM!

Am I accepted here throughout
The poetry world?
Though I am a liar
(But you all know my pain)
And a sociopath,
I still love the make beieve world,
Like dreaming I was naked
In an NFL stadium
And had to run across the field
To a door that kept on disappearing
And reappearing on the other
Side of the field.

I know myself better than my
Psychiatrist does,
But the truth of the lie is
I love the words more than myself,
And the mass darkness I live in
Is filled with a universe of
Make believe.

So I write the Galactic Sea
And yes I am a crazy person,
So I defiled my name and the dream
Became reality.
I believe in my words
And I am hungry for these truthful
Poets who sieze poetry
At its throat and follow
Their scripted verses.
(I hear repetition has much to do with insanity)

Sure I am hungry for love
But Im in a relationship with sedatives,
The sadness of these poet saints
In a mammoth sized disproportionate
Reality,
Ive read my psychanalysis
And it turns out Im a poet with dreams
Who knows the difference
Between a star and a lightbulb.

I see a fool of man in the mirror.
I'm writing about myself in reflection
To my reflection.

I sit down and burp, I say excuse me,
And there is no one around.

I shave and feel my face,
I point at the man in the mirror
And say" You da man!"

I write a philosophical poem about silence,
Suddenly I am in a league with Socrates.

I look for my keys and call myself stupid for
Losing them. I give myself a break.

I step on a nail at work and watch the blood trickle
Out of my foot. There goes a pair of socks!

I give a dollar to a homeless man.
I feel as though I may be a philanthropist.

I get on the bus and eat my lunch,
I then ponder the physics of the universe.

I'm here writing my thoughts about my thoughts.
Does this make me a thinker? I think.....

To whom one is loved,
To be loved delivers
In return
A natural state of what
It means to be human.
And all along the river
As the waters whisper moments
In a running stream
That makes what bearable
Pre existing emptied
Soul poured into the flesh
And left to settle into the dust
What one can manage,
Only the love returned fills
The soul,
And family, friends ,
And lovers begin the end
In a flash so bright
It blinds a star
And what is born is life,
Each a tiny universe unto
The self,
A portrait of a person
For better or otherwise
Solidifies the magnification,
Love is Spirit,
And I am magnificent,
Because I know I will
Die of life,
And I lived,
All that one can do....

My Cousin Frank once
Came to spend a weekend
With the family at a state park,
He came with bongs
And a habitual prestige of
*** smoking.

He would light a ****
In hiding but would
Not blot out the smell
As a show for his pride
As a smoker.

      I was a here and there
Kinda smoker, couldn't roll
To save my life or the last
Of the bag, but amidst the late
Night drinking in the gallery
Of faces round the fire,
Came my time to take a few hits.

( I began a soliloquy of morbidly humorous
Topics which no one thought was funny)
As midnight hour came, Cousin Frank
Came to the unpopular guy who
Couldn't handle his smoke.
He lit another and began
A soliloquy of his own,
Rather I think I just spaced out.

     He went to bed and I stayed
Wondering about apples and grapes,
In the starlit terrace of the infinite
Possibility of fruits,
Thankful Frank had brought
Such philosophical ****.

My eyes cover you
      With a warm rain
Of stares,
     The morning comes
Like a singing spiral,
      Your body of foliage
Opens like a meadow
    As you arise from bed.
The gilded light
    Sifts through your blouse
And your body burns
    Through the silhouette.
Coffee,
          The vertical hour awake,
Your laughter is everywhere,
      I take your hips of light
And make love at the cliff
     Of the day......

Chaos in a wind,
A whimper in a death,
A poet stands in a crowd
And lulls the words to grasp
The emtptiness:

Let sleep the order,
Chaos in a passion's touch,
Feel the fiber of existence
And know that one is nothing
And everything to himself.

Chaos like the scream in agony
And torture of the dance
Under the forgotten night
When under the portico
You held back from destiny's
Melody and order killed
The unborn.

Quiet the noise of bitter
Memory, take in hand that
Chaos in a world of numbers
And lose count the minutes
That always seem fleeting,

And a poet overstressed,
Underwhelming as poetry
Became a job,
When time is put into words,
Take the first draft and run,
Let go The editor.

Take it,
Its still there,
And the order is a chaos too.

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.