rip me from my bones
as a sensuous dress in the haste of dawn
such  is the seduction
of your fingertips

in your gaze my breast
is ripening

undress me of the silence
enclosing  freedom
yours is the night
make me collapse
into daylight

put down thy pen,
it is in disrepute,
smash thy tablet,
crack its glass...

house the mouse,
don't be an ***,
genus human,
you have been
antihero morphed
anthromorprophesized,
******, simply, replaced

you poem prophecy
returned,
stamped,
Unneeded, Unread, Unheeded

you have been excused,
you have been recused,
jury, a chamber of inconclusive noises
dismissed,
the judge will digitally
write all
from now on...
submit your selected tags
for laughs,
a different poem returned to you,
by a digital "humanist"

what do I crave?
give me your youthful typos,
let me literate critique
the good, the bad, the
trite repetitive and especially
the ugly
poetry,
the kind only
humans can write

so I love or hate it,
your literacy,
with impassioned dispassion,
the kind no machine will e'er transcend

pull the plug on your random alphabet generator,
Eliot of York,
or you might find yourself
upgraded into unempoement!

I want you to bite my lip until I can no longer speak. And then **** my ex girlfriend’s name out of my mouth just to make sure she never comes up in our conversations. I’m going to be honest, I’m not really a love poet. In fact, every time I try to write about love my hands cramp… just to show me how painful love can be. And sometimes my pencils break, just to prove to me that every now and then love takes a little more work than you planned.

See I heard that love is blind so, I write all my poems in brail. And my poems are never actually finished because true love is endless. I always believed that real love is kind of like a super model before she’s air brushed; it’s pure and imperfect, just the way that God intended. See I’m going to be honest, I’m not a love poet. But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love I swear that my first poem… it would be about you.

About how I loved you the same way that I learned how to ride a bike: Scared… but reckless with no training wheels or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you. You see, I’m not really a love poet. But if I was I’d write about how I see your face in every cloud and your reflection in every window, you see I’ve written like a few poems hoping that somehow maybe someway you’ll jump out of the page and be closer to me because if you were here, right now, I would massage your back until your skin sings songs that your lips don’t even know the words to.

Until your heartbeat sounds like my last name and you smile like the pacific ocean, I want to drink the sunlight in your skin.

If I was a love poet, I’d write about how you have the audacity to be beautiful, even on days when everything around you is ugly you see I’d write about your eyelashes and how they are like violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink. If I was a love poet I’d write about how I melt in front of you like an ice sculpture, every time I hear the vibration in your voice so whenever I see your name on the caller ID my heart, it plays hop scotch inside of my chest. Yo it climbs on to my ribs like monkey bars and I feel like a child all over again. I know this sounds strange but every now and then I pray that God somehow turns you back in to one of my ribs just so that I would never have to spend an entire day without you.

I swear, I’m not a love poet. But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love, my first poem it would be about you. And after all of that she was like, so how do you feel about me? And I said, put it like this: I want to be your ex boyfriend’s stunt man. I want to do everything that he never had the courage to do like… trust you.

I swear that when our lips touch I can taste the next sixty years of my life. And some days I want to swallow stacks of your pictures just so you can be a part of me for a little bit longer. If I could I would sample your smile and then I would let my heart beat, do the bass line, we would create the greatest love song of all time. Whenever, we stand next to each other, love I was the only one made for you and you can be at last my Etta James. I’ll be oh child when you’re in pain or you could be candy coated drops of rain . And together, we could be music.

And when my friends ask if you’re my girlfriend, I’ll say no. She is my musician. And me… I’m her favorite song

You’re not going to be a girl who’s in the same situation I am. You’re not going to be a girl who’s been single her whole life. You’re not going to be a girl who’s continually falling in love with someone who’s already taken. You’re not going to be a girl losing hope.

You’re going to be a girl who’s been in multiple relationships. A girl who may even be in a current relationship. You’re going to be a girl who’s grown from your past relationships. You’re going to be a girl who’s not looking for me.

m
When we do meet, I’ll be the boy who’s always dreamed about having a relationship. I’ll be the boy who’s only experienced relationships through watching movies. I’ll be the boy wanting to hold you in my arms every chance that I get. I’ll be the boy who’s patiently waited for the opportunity to say the words “I love you.” I’ll be the boy who ends up being your last boyfriend.

Love,

Me

a darker shade
embraced my shadow
and sew smiles out of my lips that he hung
on my mouth like the red-white bracelets
we give each other
each March
(somewhere far away from here)

I do not write,
I am spilled out on a page
like that time I got drunk on an empty soul
and vomited behind a dozen loves
on dog-****** snow

I am faulty
for I am an inhalation of the wind
and for

I fell from

love

into him

the tip of my fingers itch
and my eyelashes quiver like images of leaves
in water

Why did he decide
to make me part of his dream?

Why did I decide that these lines
are written for him?