Despite my best protestations
And all those hours wrought
With layer upon layers
Of debilitating frustrations
I find that I am fallen
Reckless heart affected
By loves unrequited affections
Silver eyes aflame
That wears poetry’s
And nature’s true name
The author of my desires
Only a digital ghost
Reflected in photos
And words
Flowers and philosophies
I imagine how they sound and tasted
Flowing from the soft full lips
I wish that I could only love
The spirit of her art
But my heart rends it valves
Spends blood furiously
Wanting the seen and unseen
Desiring the poetry of
Her body and mind

She was a vile venom sac
Poisonous black widow
A spider spinning webs
In my back bedroom window

He excelled, but at each level he struggled
trying to elevate himself to new heights.
That ambition burned him,
even when it earned him
what he thought he was due
higher wages, better benefits, and more things
so, every day he stayed
at a job, he truly hated.
Every heartbeat aggravated
by wanting more and more
until he collapsed on his office floor
barely even mourned.

I worked but seldom succeeded
making enough to get what I needed
and enjoying what I had.
Though his stone was big
I left an almost omnipresence of positivity
with every stranger who met me,
so I die contently.

I am sorry for my ability
to smile and laugh
while others are
are being torn in half
by acts that
can never be taken back,
by folks who joke
about cruelty to blacks,
cause I am living
pretty **** comfortably.

My white privilege is showing
and it makes me feel so guilty.

See this is so strange to me,
all this obsessing
doesn’t break down logically.
But you are breathtaking,
soul shattering if you chose to be
and I would risk eternal damnation
to be next to you and do whatever
you want me to do.

In the morning, my first thoughts
are of you.
In the evening I daydream,
play out strange fantasies
that circle around all the things
I long to do for you
and to you.

When I go to the gym
I try to strengthen
my body and mind
so if the time
comes
when you need me
to defend you
or help you run
then I know
I have done
all that could to prepare.

Part of me is very scared,
because I can imagine
getting lost
somewhere
deep in there,
in a place where me, and I
becomes we and us
because I must
Still, I trust this love
is more than lust.
I desire your mind
and you naked touch

If I am an egg
fragile and ready to shatter,
and all the yoke spills out
like yellow brain matter
if you break my heart,
I know that all the king’s men
and all the king’s horses
couldn’t glue me back the same
cause you would have my heart
and I would keep what remains.
But I will risk it,
because to miss it for fear of trying
to sit out the inning
and go on dying
well what an empty life that would be.

Look at that
Humans are
Dust motes
Dancing on
A cosmic scale
Burning behind
The comet’s tail
Too important to notice
That they are
Less than a particle
In a universe
That is an electron
In an atom
Of a larger universe

If you say that a child should not go off to war
Then I say everyone I know is a child
Youth in wisdom and intelligence
Full of potential
Not made to waste in the ways of war
But blossom in the days of peace

It's so futuristic
and mechanistic
those fatalistic
mystics of nihilistic
behaviors
that seemed to mirror
the feudalistic years.

This is not some poem. This is pure truth. Right now I am crying , because no matter how hard I speak and write love my country keeps arming up for war, and attacking the army for its vile acts of barbarity is apparently like attacking a religion because people worship the military and soldiers.
How many ******* times do I have to cry love while other cry war till people listen. I am so emotionally exhausted but my pain is irrelevant compared to the victims of America's policies which are almost always enacted in the interest of the wealthy.

All that he wants is a sign,
saying that he’s headed
in the right direction.

Instead, what he finds
is a cold ghost town
waiting for his inspection.

He is in a hurry
with no clue why
rolling heavy footed
down a highway
fifty-five.

All he really
wants to know
is that there is
something perfect
past his bookish
existence.

Hand in a holey pocket
searching for a broken locket
knowing that he lost it
and there is no way to be
forgiven for this stupidity.

Other people may learn
but he is driven to
run too many risks.

Till, the car twists
tumbles, hits solid bricks,
and he never wakes up,
cause he missed
the caution signs
saying slow down.
at wintertime.

This is a love poem for the no one who loves me
Yeah I got tons of nobodies lining up to **** me
To tug and ****, to lick and pluck
Until the pain of loneliness comes unstuck
Until the raptures of desire ***
To I am filled and fulfilled
With love and all its ****** glories
And the stories
Oh the tales I would tell
Are mostly lies to myself
Because no one I love
Will ever love me back like that

I close my eyes
massage my eyelids
see impossible impressions
of the pressure
become spherical
abstractions
distorted shapes
rippling in the void
of sightlessness.

The rocky road is a diverging river
Splitting into T shaped tributaries
Feeding human fish into the highways
Silver schools of cars, trucks, and semis
Swimming dangerously through the streets
The masses ebb and flow
While the smokestacks grow
Drivers do not really know
Why they go where they go
Drive fast to die slow
They drown on those roads

This is a poem
about another
solitary shift.

There is tension
in my sore shoulders,
and a tender tightness
in my right knee joint.

The dark sky brings
the trifecta of
three rainbow hallow
having light bulbs
blazing.

Less than a quarter
of a block’s distance
is a pair of lights
that pierces the night
like irritated eyes
peevishly peering
out at the parking lot’s clearing
while pouting petulantly.

Near night’s end
I walk and listen
to the sound of the wind
moving through
the select few
scattered trees
that surround me.

The orange’s juice drips
on my dry cracked lips
while the sun
spreads its orange
glazed glory
across the dark morning sky,
a catharsis of narcissi’s sweetness.

Flags up
and then I am off
fleeing from
the forming day,
and going home
so, I can sleep
the rest of the
daylight away.

What a cute little demon
clumsy and incredulous
stumbling as I laugh at its
sharpened claws
that barely miss.

They swipe like silver blades
hissing as they slice the air clumsily,

with a hunger in its eyes
more dangerous then
King Arthur’s Siege Perilous.

Beastly in its countenance
when brave warriors encounter it
they found their bowls quickly emptied,
and scurried away like fools to be pitied,

but this little darling demon spawn
has actually never managed to
hurt anyone.

I’m too tired.
My minds a blank,
got no gas
in my tank,

no cash
in my word bank,
and every verse
is super stank.

Broccoli green
gum drop
tree tops
lean less than
lightly in
this no breeze
dry heat day.

The old lady houses
are made up of
mud encrusted
multi-colored
rough bricks

Seems to be
pre-blooming
purple flowers
unfold
before me.

Tree leaves
begin turning
from green to yellow
yearning for
the release of fall
when gravity will
take them all.

The time has come.
Soft silk shirt
unbuttoned.
Lacey *******
slid from
the skin I want.
I dive in tongue first.
Let you scratch my back
as I latch on like a lamprey
feeding on your juices
plunging deeper.
I hope you’re a screamer.
As I slither to and hither
twirling my tongue
like a cheerleader’s baton
or a helicopter rotor
around and around
with such frenzy
till you gasp fiercely
and squirt me.
Then I return to taste
your flesh,
trace your breast
with gentle brush strokes
caress your neck
and nibble your earlobes.
Then when you shiver again
I’ll send my soldier down under.
That up and ******
grinding out another ******
as your pink slit gives in to it
my body going in you
like a hyperactive tide
Just the tip then ****** in it.
Just the tip and ****** in it.
All the way out
and all the way in.
Till you are ******* again
and again and again
and again.

I made
a beautiful space
in the corner
of my shade,

turned venom
into lace
and raced away
from your hate,

swirled quicksand
with my tired hands,

petted pretty vipers
that hissed,
slithering
to where I stand,

chased fireballs
that were ready
to consume me.

I pursued
my own agony,
bit my tongue
to taste
my own blood,
then spit it out
not in spite
but to watch
the red grow.

I wept in
the spider’s den
embedded in
a cloud of webbing.

I slept in
the sinking ship
that fell into
the cold underwater
abyss.

I lay afraid
to move
and died in
the infinite
eternal
black
that was once
beautiful,
until
it collapsed
and took
all the warmth
I ever had
back.

The heart burns
Acidic fluctuations
Desire’s frustration

How can it be so hard
To find someone
To love and be loved by

To slide my hand
Down the curves
Of her jaw
To pull her close
To kiss softy
And hardly
In tandem
To speak deep
To think well
And compliment
Gaps in understanding

I see the world become
A cycle of love
And loves lost
Deaths and rebirths
Even drug dealers and murderers
Find the full passion of love
In love struggling to find their place
Together

I am a shade
Walking just outside
Of loves touch
It is my own fault
I laid the bricks
Of my own isolation
And instead of cracking
Their sad foundation
I perpetuate such frustrations
Alone
To smart for my own
good

It is black, empty of color gazing deep into it
I see nothing, a void of sorrow and hopelessness
Helpless to face the onslaught
I struggled to stack it, one day upon another
Patting it down and compressing it
Till pounds became tons
I store it up like coal in cement structures
The center of the silo cracks in a circle
Part particles part wave of dark water
One moment breaks the building
And all that I am is consume by
Depression’s horror.

This world can be a dark, crue,l and hateful place. That is why we must be ever vigilent against the tide of racism and hatred that overshadows the land. Where there is cruelty we must bring compasion, where there is darkness we must become the light, and where there is hate we must be love. I hope all of us can live as shining example of the goodness within the hearts of human beings.

I am just
a pretty purple
placeholder
for her old lover.
A holdover
until he
gets his
**** together.
So, I’d rather
give her the cold shoulder,
but I love her
too much to abandon her.
Even though
this is killing me
slowly
but sweetly.

Make it quick.
You are already
killing me slowly
dragging me
through the snowy
thorn covered field,
making my flesh bruise
changing it from pink
to blackish blues
as you spread the abuse.

Just make it fast.
slip the blade past
my ribs and up into
the heart you broke
as you choked
the land I loved
as you grabbed
children by the throat,
while you demonized them
with shaded lies.

Your corruption is poison
and I am tired
of writing the same poem,
so just **** me now.

It is the melancholy
of stares lost in thought
of empty chairs
that we forgot
to dust off.

It is the place
where we become
strangers from
the homes we
come from

where shadows flicker
quicker then the stiffer
bodies that fall

and we mourn them all
each with their own degree
of wet or silent grief.

It is silence
all pale pallor and deathly
waiting patiently
to take you and me

while our loved ones
are finally left
to feel the grief
that we now
feel for thee

The feet of time
trudge on
on infinity’s dime.

Beneath its nimble steps
the cement sidewalk crumbles.

Time liberates
the land,
freeing it from
the bonds
we placed upon
its muddy back,
erasing imagined borders.

States crumble.
Nations deteriorate.
Man’s footprint
will eventually be erased.

Except for climate change.

I fill my bowl
with a wicked
word stew
stirring stirring
words
supping up
delicious verbs,
spilling some nouns
while savoring
other sounds
then packing them all
in my current
favorite notepad.
Then onto my laptop.

It is the truth that breaks a poets heart. To know such violence lies in the eyes of the so called protector. Everyday I find myself more heartbroken even though I see the violence coming. Cause for every stride we made for justice their is another ******* hiding behind authority trying to take it away.

I’ve got thousands of miles
of road I’ve been driving,
while searching for a home
to belong to,
a place where I can stay
when I lay my head to rest,
and I take that first dreaming breath.

Life is a strange interpretation
of mud, blood, and vexation.
Where logic fails, reason takes a vacation.
Perception is the only tool we find to measure
memories we hold as sacred treasures.
Till, those transcribed are passed down
and every generations finds their own variation
played on the same theme.
But one day annihilation will take away
the strength we lost and gained
along the road of ever evolving years
and we strays will part ways
with all of reality.

Darkness and chaos
played out stupidly before us.
That seems to be the story of everything,
lately.

Despite the delight, but brief interludes
with you few fellow poets who
brighten my life with your  words of lights.

All I can see
is a wasteland of
stone, glass, metal,
and wooden rubble
in an open air prison
where children are living.

Six thousand bombs,
stirring up
thick clouds of grey dust,
obscuring the horrors
people are enduring.

The attackers are
barely even
warning people
to move on.
The exits are blocked.
The power and water is off.
The suffering doesn’t stop,
and these civilians
are unable to leave.

How are you unable to see
the hell spring of grief
that is burning human beings,
the furnace that still cooks
even when no one bothers to look
because all of the crooks
were just waiting
for the perfect excuse
to make the news
with a justified genocide.

Mass ****** and more oppression
with the weapons
America supplied,
and guess what,
another child just died,
more parents got radicalized,
and if they survive
will you be surprised
if hate is the new demoncont.
that wears their tired red eyes.

The rich guys lied and decided
that unequal retaliation
is perfectly justified,
so we are on a road
to the extinction of
human decency
as the world murders
our collective humanity.

Crack, boom,
the sound of thunder blooms
orange heated chaos,
breaking the foundation
an entire building.

A whole family line
gets an early burial,
as what’s left of my heart
gets carried inside,
popped in a box
to be buried alive,
because their beat
was the same as mine.

Nothing I write
will change the minds
of those unwilling to
listen and see people who
are close to total annihilation,
as deserving of love,
and compassion,
but even so
I am still asking.

Help, please, help!?!


Instead we get beheadings,
mass shootings,
****** assault,
retaliation,
and the expectation
of more tragedy to come.

I can easily condemn
violent actions taken,
but I need to understand
the origins of this rocky foundation,
and potential solutions,
because I can’t stand the
horrors I am facing
without eventually breaking.

When the aggression keeps taking possession of your soul.
When you anger and entitlements makes you violent.
When you are licensed by the state which supports your hate.
When your crime happens time and time again.
When you blacken and harden your heart against a group.
When you ignore the truth and our youth who cry.
When the sidewalk runs liquid red then dark dry.
How can you expect me not to see the hatred.
How can you expect me not to see the corruptions.
When I wipe back the tears and find my own outrage
And a part of me almost gives into hate.
Seeing bullet hole tear through my brothers cloth’s
Because every man is my brother
And every mother who mourns the loss
Of her child shot by the cops is my sister
When will this madness ever stop.

Her hunger is veracious.
She speaks so salacious
and I parallel her passion.
Cause no touch could ever sate us.
I burn at a thousand degrees.
It is only she
who could come the closest
to cooling me
as she drenches my body
with her juices,
while our flesh
slips and grinds together
slippery with the hard work
we call pleasure.

Can you imagine what it feels like
To live in fear at night
And even in the daylight
Worried about getting hassled or shot
By local or state cops
Just cause you got
A brown pigment in your skin

Please,
do not let
the words fail me
or vice a versa.

I need a verse to
give the evening
to you
because you deserve
the universe.

I may be tired
but everything inspires
higher creativity
and what I seek
is to gift thee
graciously
with a reality
where you can be
happy.

So as my eyes flutter
falling over
the constant clutter
of humankind.
I hope I find
the precise rhyme
to unlock your mind
so that in time
you can return the favor
bring the flavor later
to be my verbal savior
and inspire my desire
to continue to live and
be a great creator.

Why do we allow
these shallow
stubborn *******
to acquire annual annuities
on slick sick
investments;

Like oil refinement
or weapons,
such detriments
to our social health
and our environment.

Will we be able
to restrain
this barbaric disposition
that manufactures
guns and
environmental disasters
with our false bravado?

You bought your house with a loan
so it’s a place that you don’t own
but a place you still call home.

And to keep up the bills
you go in to a job that kills
any kind of happiness you have.

You crack your knuckles and your back,
work for wages that don’t keep up
with inflation, health costs, and
other things this consumer life’s demands.
So with your sweat and stress
you barely scratch the surface.

And the education that you got
cost you even more then
the home you just bought.
Fifty thousand plus debt
hangs heavy like an anvil
over your head.

So you keep on working
till you are the walking dead,
Till, the stiffness in your arms
and the tightness in your chest
explodes like a terrorist’s vest.

But if you make to seventy
when you were planning to retire
and take a holiday retreat
well, the market lost your cash
so you will be working untill
you finally collapse.

He will suckle
and spit
drinking blood
from your ****.

He will spread your legs
and leave
an unprotected present
deposited
past your ****
once he climaxes.

He will claim your womanhood
and demand that you submit
to his weakness,
calling his faults
dominance and confidence.

He will prey upon
ancient insecurities,
that subconscious programming
because you do not know
your own binary coding.

He will trick you into
drinking your resistance away,
plant his pin *****
in your fertile crescent,
and if you try to erase
that lifelong mistake
he will claim
that you are a sinner.

Subdued you will
sublimate your will
and fulfill
fifties sitcoms
housewife fantasies
for a family,
sacrificing all your dream
for the man who schemes
to enslave you.

In words
she works
her dangerous tongue
shaping the
desires that were,
are, and yet to ***.

Viper eyes
of Egyptian fire
surge towards me
purging any urge
I have to resist
the demon’s lips
that ache to kiss
my tired flesh
to death.

It has been far too long.
Rain never looming.
My eyes always averted,
hands working out
****** frustration,
but when I face her
I yearn to bend
to her whims.

She commands me
to crawl
and I do.
She demands
that I beg
and I do.
Then she tells me
to devour her flesh
as she devours me
and my tongue
whips viciously
savaging
her moist lips.

Legs parting,
heart thumping,
she demands
all that I am
as a man.
I become hers
and give in
pumping
with a passionate fury.

We howl,
growl,
and nip.

The wet sounds
of desire’s fulfillment
fills the room.
We are consumed
in such a sweet
****** tempest.

Till we part,
only temporarily satisfied
animals waiting to refresh
so, we can feed the lust
again, and again.

I am a biochemical mess
One big bottle of craziness
Not clinical insanity
But the bitter fruits of
My discontented heart
Disillusioned with my dissonance
Being a creature of love
But not believing there is any love for me

Little boy blue
Couldn’t save the world
For or from you
Couldn’t brave the night
In joyful flight
An amazing sight
In super hero tights
To inspire
Give you wings
To soar higher
Even with all his strength
So, for a while
While your lost in the wild
You will have to think
And save yourself

My blood is ink.
At least I think.
The last time I saw it
was when I tried
to cut myself and die,
but ended up
only staining the kitchen sink
with bits of runny poetry.

I am still strange,
haven’t managed
to change
enough
to fit in.

I still enjoy
the comic books
I collected
when I was
a young boy.

I still like
the sci-fi
fantasy
movies,
and tv shows.

I am still
as curious
as the little kid
who hid
and watched
robins
walk
with their
heads
bobbin.

I am still reading
searching,
and pleading,
longing
with aching sincerity
for a world
that will appreciate me,
but I think
that I am too strange
for this reality.

Terror and inhumanity
have become
a tepid brew
that is stewed
in blood
and drank daily,
so said poison
no longer has any
effect on me.

My dog is
going to die
but the tears
do not come.
They are hovering
just out of reach
on the otherside.

This time
as someone
I love dies
I intend to
remain
by their side
as they journey
into that last night.

The last time
I was too busy
too distracted
to visit,
but in my defense
I thought
he had
plenty time
to live.

The time
before that
I cannot excuse
I left her alone
a withering
figure
stuck in a bed
till she was dead.

I know most
have the blessing
of believing
their grieving
is only temporary.
Their guilt is absolved
because after all
they will see
their loved ones
in heaven.
So, it is easy
to take people
and animals
for granted
but to me
this planet
and life
is a one time ride.
So, I will
hold this grief
and guilt inside
so that I remember
to be kind.

All things change.
Rivers shift
their paths
and find
new points of release.
That water we see
will never flow
exactly the same.

All things change.
Feelings find
different levels
and different people
feel differently
every single day.

All things change.
Branches shift
with wind and water,
swaying and growing
at the same time,
living today,
but dying partly tomorrow.

All things change.
Jobs are lost.
Cities expand.
Businesses move.
Libraries do to.
Even loved ones
move on.

All things change.
We remember
and forget,
prune and regrow,
even though we know
we to will die.

The lesson is
we are not less then
other men
but different
in our radiance.

Some may shine bright
while others wear a light
that is on another spectrum
one that most humans
are not even looking for.

Behold the beautiful poet
The baggage she had to keep
Even though she couldn’t stow it
The secrets swept away
Even though we didn't know it
And all the opportunities
The ones her parents said don’t blow it
All that **** she wanted to forget
Comes out between ten and twelve o’clock
When the grandfather hits the top
And time finally stops
The poetess is freed

I’m letting go to let you know
The snow that grows
By loads and loads
Till frosty feet
And frozen toes
Are merely frigid memories
Till all the trees are barren of leaves
Till April fools is but a foolish memory
And memories of you and me
Are dust I let you know as I must
With little strength left
I am letting go of all I left
But still keeping a little life for myself