rock smashes scissors
break our swords
Scissors cut paper
tear up our poetry
paper covers rock.
shielded by policy

we have our voices.
all rock, all scissor, all paper.
all spock, all lizard
we do not play games, we Speak.
We throw spock hands like Gang signs
spit parsel tongue at pride haters
we write love letters to revolution
We cut red tape with our long fuzes
Hit rock bottom, more bass in our
Voices than god knows what to do with
So we tell him exactlly where it should go.

Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock

They hold their pens like scissors
carving history books into erasure poems

We would swing our pens like swords.
But no leader we trust has been elected yet.

We would have a leader to guide us
But snakeoil salesmen plague our trenches.

There would be no snakeoil salesmen if
we had a stable government

We would have a stable government
but the stability was sharpied out of our history books.

And To history, loud voices sound
like the fires of god.
And are we not the voices with more bass then God knows what to do with.
without words on the wind,
There is no flame
so aren't we fire.

We all have tealights waiting in cold oven hearts.
stone hearths begging for Ignition
eager for bootleg promises of warmth
The orange rhetoric of our future
no warmer than tinders logo.
or a video recording of a fireplace
flickering on a flatscreen at best buy.
We are distracted constantly.
misdirected by Houses of paper cards
origami swans we don't dare unfold
Staying ignorant of the tire track liner inside.
origami swans are so much more beautiful
when they have secrets, right?

I have a matchstick
watch me strike it lit
flare this paper swan into a pheonix.
And hold it in my fist.
there will be fire.
and it will not be a metaphor
But It will be a revolution
And it will be a pheonix
and the pheonix WILL be a metaphor

The Rabbi at Temple Beth El
said when a mans consumed by gods fire
it is a severance from faith, a spiritual death.
what have we done
if not lost faith in our government?
Been consumed by the fires of god.
and why not tattoo pheonix feathers
on our backs?
at least this death gave us warmth.
a home in the world's ashes.

I stared at the dragons fire that stormed towards me
thanked it for the oppurtunity
to walk out of this world
holding dragons eggs
Like Daneris Tygareon
and they will be real dragons.
incubated by REAL fire
despite this crumbling cataclysm
you call a great america.
Spock handed Lizards larger and louder
with all the rocks
paper and scissors they need
to set the world on fire.
To Finally see something beautiful be born.
A Home that keeps them warm.

I watch them
walk in: slow, not quite *****

white beard on one,
double chin on another

I estimate their seasons--an
appraiser assessing damages

of gravity and grief, cells
dividing, multiplying without relief

I was a lanky, lurching teen
when they were yet in diapers

soon, they'll be clad
in such humble attire again

I'll be there waiting, already
accustomed to such leaking humility

Maybe this is where I belong
Amongst shattered dreams and denied hopes
Scourging heat and heavy falls
Sun stroke and deep floods
Abject poverty and closed roads
Decimated paths and broken hearts

A place where eyes do not meet
So guilt remains grounded
And pain leaves a trace in the stares of the forsaken
Masked faces that need no burden
Unworthy of humanity's unraveling
Stones their hearts remain

A place where they pluck the petals and lay the thorns as they match on
Bellies expand
Not enough roses to fill the void
Like an oversized pair of jeans
Stunned by anorexic egos

A place where they chase out the truth to paint over with coated mistruths
Reality dismissed
And God takes the fall for their absurdities  
Thunder that never strikes
Like a myth an ending becomes

I'm the river that runs dry throughout the year in the Sahel,
I'm the tree from which you cut down to recreate ,
I'm the sun that sets in the west and rises from the East in the wake of the dawn,
I'm the moonshines that light up your darkness when the tears dry up,
I'm the streams along the nile that drive the thirst back to dead waters ,
I'm the blooming white verbana when the ray of the sun hits through ,
I'm the stings that pollinate the spawn seeds on the meadows,
I'm the flakes that form snow blankets concealing the crevasses,
I'm the desert sand that burns and boils through the feet of a poor orphan child during the summer noontide ,
I'm the dirt on your path when the heavy drops hits the sands on a wet spring eve,
I'm earth's concealed treasures you use to raise metal bars to guard your fears,
I'm the stones you collect to raise shelters that trap you together yet awfully apart
I'm life's seeds lashing on travellers of earth to disperse across state lines
I'm the border crossings birds can't see
I'm the thorn that stands guard beneath the blooms of majestic roses
I'm the looming darkness that permits the hunter's prey on the wildebeest
I'm aurora and my light will guide you through the northern lines
I'm the purity of the breeze that slaps your cheeks over the eastern horizon
I'm the eagle swimming across the dark clouds with its might awakening the strength in the weak,
I'm the womb that carries the supposed stains but a new beginning,
I'm the cries of the oppressed coming from the crumbles and the rubbles on a ****** night ,
I'm the hunger that keeps you awake piercing through the slums,
I'm the pain , the sorrow , the tears ,
I'm the broken pieces inside of you ,
I'm the washed out dreams, the stolen future, the lost hope, the dead ends.
I'm the freedom you die fighting for .
I'm the hope that lifts you up at dawn to thrive,
I'm the dream that paddles its way to shore,
I'm the future, as bright as a supernova
I'm the love, the passion, I'm your truth, the reason
I'm the happiness you envision at the end of the line .
I'm nature with all its might, I am life.

Drunken and distraught,
wide awake, teetering off sanity's pave
The hard liquor bottle turns clear
Nearing emptiness, of soul and rocks  
Pain that lingers
Anew with the last chug
Icy floor, face down drowning in tears and sweat,
Bruised and broken
Bloodied by a fist so mighty and raw
Strangled by a mute reality
A reverse of a parallel universe
A past irreversible
Fast rewind to right before the muscle tension
Before the limb landed
Before the rumble between two stars
The explosion of the expelled now dead star
Choking off the missed lanes
Wrong turns,
Noosed in staring down at a pool of regret
Compressed airways,
Withering breath,
Twitching feet,
Circling 'round a live cemetery ,
Momentary respite,
a note slips from the grip
As she finds release

You with no identity
Of thoughts awakening my conscious
Deepening affections unfathomable
At dusk, twinkles of your soul
Tickle the core of my deep hue

With no face,
Of touches trickling through my nerves  
Sparks gushing across my streams
From the back of my palm, caresses strike your lush cheeks
Hairs stand on both of ours
eyes lost in the sanctity of our company

With no voice,
Of whistles softer than a nightingale
A song, melancholy of love
Slipping through your lips
As sweet as a glistening sunrise

With no name,
Of whispers louder than the echoes  
With no sound bustling as though Exorcised
Pierced silence clench deeper,  
A blasted muteness absolving the cosmos

With no scent,
Of breeze riddled with your fragrance
Undulating across tides and meadows
With every drop of rain, tossed Billow of glacier
Emanating from earth's core

With no being,
Of radiance illuminating the vast horizon
Scintillating through our whole being
Fused elements of our existence
Emitting flares of an explosive love