my body a home best lived in.
babe, my  body is a home best lived in.
worn and weathered,
it sways,
dancing in the wind storms,
bowing at snow flakes that pile on,
I shudder, I moan,
like me this house is living,
it breathes hot air in the summer months,
takes purchase of the rain,
it takes whats given,
you mend,
I leak,
I shatter,
my boards squeak, protesting your arrival,
but you aren't put off by the walls i raise,
you fix my windows wipe the mist that streams,
you serenade me with your sorrows,
you lament I cave,
you know my crooks,
youve etched the crannies,
you drop the glass,
you carve out space,
you box up my insides,
making it a more convient display,
Is that what this is? Is that what Ive become?
A convenience store home,
in which you hope to barter,
with a smile or a touch with a slip of kindness,
an I.O.U. of commercialized grace,
If my love was a stream, you'd bottle it up and send it to another factory to be, another product,
of a good conquest,
I'm just another good conquest,
what have you gained?
o my... what have I lost?
what do I have left of me?
have you seen my broken pieces?

Here’s where the story begins: One night, feeling empty I called God. Said I wanted a creature embodying all the feminine, an hour later, she walked in.

I watched in disbelief as a step started a lone violin, her walk queued a dozen, amazed by this skill I invited her in.

She put other sad girls to shame, for she had a soundtrack to her walk. Steps accompanied by music is what every girl wants, an orchestra or a live band playing as if directed by her hips. Full lips writing melodies as she speaks.

Ancient profession and she’s a professional, we’re all poets and lovers, a player playing wonderful music as I bade in her thighs, kiss the sides of her wide hips. Fingers running… Down. Her abdomen aching for me to get inside. Tongue barely brushing by. Feeling the pain in your left thigh as I become the passion to the right so I… Stop. You ask why and I say: “Not yet” You laugh it of, grab me and we’re at it again, grab your neck, squeeze those hips, hold your knees, kiss those lips… Pushed you of, said goodnight, left the room.

Caught me quick, with an attitude, said you lost.

Paid for ****

Now I’m the *******

It was a bird with grey feathers, and red eyes; locked on her child. Determined and terrified she came out of her shell and with legs like lead she started to move. Crying for help.

I witnessed it all.

From the flight to the fall, a man was throwing rocks from afar. A hero to save the innocent from a ruthless hawk.

Good vs evil

Devil vs God

The man saved the day, he chased the evil predator away.

Natures drama between turtles and a hawk.

I said “please stop, don’t you see that she’ll starve. There’s nothing else moving in this heat.”

“No, there’s food in the sea” he replied - “the turtles will survive!”

“Not them!” I cried, “the poor bird; he’ll starve and die.”

Like leaves from the vine

falling

so

slow

or a brave soldier boy, that never came home…

Me in the blue.

Violent, shirtless pugilist, wearing leather shoes.

Dancing on the canvass and pities the fools with no reflections.

Muscle and mind synchronized to face the strength of his weakness, weakness to his strength.

The only one who understands the sacrifice, training and pain.

Timeless crucial ignorance.

A dance of true love if there ever was one of pure violence.

Light with crawling arms as a reflection on a white wall.

A morning star like the ones on my ceiling at night.

Giving borrowed light to fight the monsters.

Imaginative child seeing a man with a knife instead of a clothes hanger, a T-Rex where the swings should be.

Afraid at night and quiet by day.

The most sensitive boy you’ll ever meet changing into a heartless ******* with no

memories

of

hugs

from

his

mother.

Monsters everywhere, it’s like he’s one of them.

Aggressive

sad

lonely

caveman.

The love cantor sings in streets and bars.
She sends her voice to foreign stars.
And when a couple falls in love,
Her heart strings get a little tug.
For she sings of affection and bliss,
Her only prayer is for a kiss.
One of truth, forever a hand,
She searches for love in such a man.

The Crowd’s all laughing
Wrapped around the bar
Smiling big, throwing heads back
Like it’s their first drink.
One more shot-
C’mon, someone will cover you.
Drive away, glistening eyes.
Smirks to the night sky
Spin me round, till I forget my name.
Thursday night,
I’d like to dedicate you to the freezing cold
And your amicable stars.

Sleeping on the floor
Same clothes on.
Night before,
How many juices of the gods did you imbibe?
Still feeling its heroic effects.
Night filled with swirling, incomplete memories
Shared by your soldiers at your side.
Some may say we fight too hard,
And too often.
We say we fight because we are obligated,
And, to guard our youth
For one more week.

No one** (has ever told me
that I should have a sense that
my life) belongs (on this earth, right)
here(, so I can continue to be) more than
(I ever imagined I could be.
Except for) you.

I'm gonna wear
my weathered cardigans
and be swallowed by the pack
of Seattle commutes
with my vinyl records in one hand,
a guitar in the other,
and a backpack full of
J. Kerouac and C. Bukowski
and R. Adams and L. Cohen.

I gonna live
off of the San Francisco Bay saltwater
and the bummed cigarettes outside
of bars that play nicotine music
to my ears.

I'm gonna sleep
on the ground in front of cookie-cutter houses
with their fence posts painted white.
I'll feel my psyche strum its last chord
and soon I'll be gone
without a sound.

I'm gonna die
in a new town where nobody knows my name.
I'll be a Chicago artist
full of New York poetry,
a Great Britain romantic
full of Alameda Victorian architecture,
or a Nebraska idiot
full of Midwest ambition.