Your lives can be
tragically
tinted
by your profession
and studies
but equally elevated
by the same.

Water flows
falling on
our flesh.
Little rivulets
slide down
and cool
our skin.
In that way
water’s life is fulfilled
being set upon the road
of falling.
Each drop taking the path
of least resistance.

Given each variable,
each level of knowledge,
each objective,
we to take the path
of least resistance
to fulfill
what we will
not what fate wills.

You have been crying
begging to be freed
expressing the need
to be released
from the patriarchy
while praying on bended knees
in a place of worship
to an imaginary father figure
who was used
to justify the abuse
you are trying to fight,
the man who gave men the right
to own you, and other slaves to.

You think you are
fighting the people in power
but every Sunday
you head back that way
One step a head
then two back towards
a fake future that
only happens when you are dead.

Yep, you will never break free
of your hated patriarchy
until you reject the farcical
spiritual rituals of the men in black
who feed you crap
take your cash and never give it back
just to tell you what a fictional character
wants you to do.

Step right up
to test your luck
pull a lever,
or pick a card.
If you’re clever
you’ll get a red lettered
queen of hearts,
but if you are
down on your luck
you’ll get a generic joker
who doesn’t give a single
****.

At least my disposition
is greatly improved
by exercise, which is why
I am moved to move more.

Please
Don’t bury yourself
Don’t hurry along
Don’t forget me
When I am gone

I always thought
I’d outlive you all
But just in case
I’m the first to fall
Don’t bury me
In the ground
Carry me with you
As you leave
This wretched town

Her Aura was an empty illusion,
a cloud of lies
to fool herself.
Like her astrology sign
and her numerology
she needed said mythology
to find a narrative in her life
and follow it through
like a puppet on a string
who does what the
puppeteer wants her to do.

Eyes crusted,
brittle bits
Of dream dust
Flake off
as I try to rise
and face
the light blue
morning sky.

Bare feet,
short sleeved,
shirt, and soft
sweat pants
wear me
as I rush
carefully
outside
to my ride
to grab
the stuff I need.

Cold winds
stab me
deep frigid daggers
invigorating.
I growl like
a warrior of
long ago days
awakened in
frosted fury.

What a beautiful day
I bellow
to no one
as I run back in
smiling,
brave and powerful.

The door does not open.
I knock but no one
comes to meet me.
I shiver
sighing deeply
“**** its cold.”

There is violence on the street
but it’s all foreign **** to me.
Pavements cracked until it bleeds
but that stuff never touches me.
Bombs dropped till no one moves.
Government pay out corporate dues
fat cats swell as they sale
the stuff we use to **** ourselves,
but since it never reaches me
I am free to ignore it,
justifying the lie of America the great and free
while I never ever explore
the life of the children who are poor
and what they are driven to do
cause we ignore them until
they inconvenience us
or there is a profit to be made.

I am fiercer then
the finest fires
of dragon breath.
As I hold her head
to my sturdy chest
there is an instinct
that buzzes through
to protect and comfort
this ***** blonde beauty.
She knew me
before her deepest sorrow.
Now tears crack her face
splitting dry sides
with wet lines
of grief.
I feel guilt
and a little relief
that she needs me.
I don’t want to be
super creepy
but I love her.
I always have.
She doesn’t laugh
at that.
She just says it was always obvious.
I make her smile and chuckle.
I hold her closer.
I rub her feet and shoulders.
I know she doesn’t love me.
I just want to be
right here in her time of need.
I just want to act and prove
that I can love her unselfishly
even if she never sees
that sparkle of desire for me.
I’ll take days,
week, years, or decades
and be sorry when
she discards me
for some other man.

Human beings have been scammed into thinking
that barely keeping
their heads above water
and acting like everyone else
on a hamster wheel
is the height of human achievement

This dismal day
dulls my emotions
in favor of
some distant
tv visions
that I used to love.

The heart is a lonely hunter
But the souls is a silent savage
Designed to steal and plunder
While our spirits and minds are ravaged

We all leave each other
one way another.
One door out,
an exit some live to see.
Parting lovers
fall to pieces
and with broken hearts
learn to live in grief
while others leave
buried underneath
large patches of dirt.
Thus, in time’s passing
we live to see
all the memories
of those who’ve left
fade to the fatigue of
our tiny existence.

It is a lonely kind of quiet
unfamiliar too most
social hearted beings,
but I prefer that silence
to the discordant apathy
of a professional work environment.

I kiss the killer
Cold bone queen
Pale pallet
Dirt laden limbs
Skinless
Breathless
My heart
Is hers for the reaping
Beating
Crimson
Meaty valves
Pulsing
I would play coy
Pretend I want to stay
Extremely far away
But I’m only flesh
Always edging my way
Ever closer to her rotting love

She was born in a building
with a thousand other children,
and the care that was given
was as little as the legally possible.

There was dust on the floor board.
There was glass in the cupboard,
but no love from a mother.
There was no god in the convent.

With all the fairytale stories,
with the hymnals she was singing
praising sweet hallelujah
heaven’s bells kept on ringing;

But the room was so cold.
The bread was full of mold,
and if she didn’t do what she was told
the nightmares would become
her reality of pain.

Since she was a female
since she had a ******
she had no say in her life.
She was the property of the church.

So, she died in that prison
never really touched by another
not a kiss from a gentle lover
or a hug from her father or mother.

With phlegm in her throat
with the fevered shivers
that moved her figure
she was lost in the church
and died another lonely body.

Do not conform to the cold confusion that we are set apart in a constant state of competition. without a strong sense of compassion and collective we could not have come this far.

What is it like
to live on
the storm front
in the USA?

When clouds of discontent
come close and portend
agents of our
shared destruction;

When poverty’s blistering winds
blast the faces of
the poor women, men,
and starving children;

When the sounds of sorrow
swoosh in a swirling
tornado,
even though,
the wealthy know
that those
tax cuts don’t grow
our system
but push it to the brink;

Till, the storm drops
and this farce we
call democracy
is washed away
in favor of
an uncertain future.

They are lost
soft petals
fallen on
hard earth
now rotting
become soft dirt.
Only things left
of their essence
is the presence
that haunts our mind.

Fogs of memory
coalescing and receding
back into the black void
of time
leave a lingering pain
tingling in vain
an addiction for a drug
we can never achieve again.

So occasionally
we wake in tears
spend a day in fear
that peace will not return here
believing the grieving
is what we have become.

But if that pain could be undone
would we unwrite our memories
take back the shared stories
let the water un-wash their dead forms
let our hearts be unbroken
and un-warmed
by their affections?
Would we willing lose
all that we were with
and because of them
to not feel that pain again?

I could not bear that lost.
Could you?

I do fake accents for fun
To make people laugh
So they don’t have to run
But my accents
Are impressions
Of someone
Else’s impressions
Lazy humor
But if it makes you laugh
Then what’s a matter with that

He confessed his love with open heart
A gamble the house had fixed from the start
He could never hope to win
Within his own tortured skin
Buried deep with hopeful eyes
Swollen tongue and blackened flesh
Worms digest the best
Leaving little here to rest
It was a gamble as I said before
But the house will always claims it take
Either rushed or relaxed we all pay the same stakes

She has the face
of a blonde-haired angel
with spectacles.
Tears slide down her cheeks
as she sits and speaks
trying to work out
if this is her own fault.

He has the face
of a tired war hero,
wakes up at night
when no one is near
with too many tears.

One old man stands
on the corner
with a cardboard sign.
Another one
has a heart attack
before its closing time.

You may think
that you are fine
but you’re just standing in line
waiting for your turn
to wear the mortar
and the earth.

We all get a foundation of hurt
but can we build compassion
up from that dirt.

I do
Oh, I do
enjoy the blessing
that I have.
Though few
they are
more then
most have been
given.

I stand at the crosswalk waiting and watching.
A burning orange flickers its way to ash
as the truck driver drops his but
heavy in the hard leather seat
and stares vehemently at me
as if I had the power to push
red lights till they turn green.

The ego is obsessed with expansion,
moving far beyond equilibrium
absorbing all that is given him;
Like the people who are given in
to unreasonable expectation,
the ego is demanding recognition
not asking for any permission,
but stomping on the feet of strangers,
and climbing over stumbling mothers
just to get the **** that it wants.

It makes us
It breaks us
Shreds us
To pieces
Lifts us up
Causes us to retreat
In solemn defeat
To repeat
Painful behavior
It is *******
And Agony
Hope binds us
And separates us
From our humanity

Poor pools form
with black swirls
of dirt and oil.
Puddles push out
expanding
as water works
its way down
from the broken
ceiling.
One envisions
drowning in
the sludge and poison
or imagines
that a crackling
electrical surge
might break
those old bulbs,
but the sparks
never come
and the days go on
wetter for the water.
but, not as deadly
as I thought
they would be.
Like me
they merely are.

The weary traveler
Though a wakened wanderer
Will wait
Wondering
Pointing to possibilities
No longer pondered
Passing strangers
Strays
Who straighten their tie
And silently cry
Why
Only to be answered
Nevermore

I feel the flutter
Of the wingless
Butterfly
Mashed up
And shredded
Flesh
Embedded
In a grisly cocoon

The process is not perfected
Yet I place each word
As if it was
My perfect selection
Looking for the perfection
But only if it is fast
Only if I can rush through
Stringing word to
Each other
A passenger
In a car
That someone else is driving
And I can’t wait to see where it goes

You play with such pathetic
Little bitty ****** pretty boys
Who plagiarized my heart’s
Purpose and deep content
Saw you sleep and laughed
Wrote you clichéd love songs
But did not know the real words
Till I gave them the light
They Could not shine half as bright
Because they did not have
My tremendous might

While they were praying
Still staying out late
Drinking and playing
I was out dragon slaying
In the name of true love
Not *** and ***** stuff
But appreciation, admiration
And millennia’s worth of wisdom
In our shared written history

But my truth is not enough
You wear another man’s touch
Dream of the poison he brings
How he breaks you in two
Shades of silky ribbon grey
Ties you down to archaic ways
Like you are some thing

Where he bought you
Black roses ready to wilt
I bought you a world of fields
Full of an infinite variety
of flowers to see
each one named after you
Shining barely half as beautifully

Where he gave you
Rotten sewage and sludge
I gave you an ocean’s worth
Of dolphin filled sparkling love

Where he gave you
Noxious fumes
Spiraling up to the moon
I gave you kind clouds
That could look like anything
And a radiant sun
Guarding you from
Darkness’s invasion

Where he gave you a diamond
I wanted to give you the universe
But he bought you an expensive purse
Walked you straight up to your hearse
Before my verses of love
Could ever pierce the madness
Proving once more
That the true heart of a poet
Is meant to beat alone

My past is a plague of pain
shadows that bruise
memories that leave
red marks,
but the isolation
was probably the worse.

I mastered pain
at a young age.
I could take a beating
better than anyone
I knew.

The trick was to let her
hurt me just enough;
resist just enough
then give her
A teary show.
Submitting
to her rage
because resistance
just fueled her
violent tendencies.

But when the beatings stopped
when she got caught
I became a prisoner
locked away
shriveled
A withering shade.

A child
looking at a world
that did not miss me
longing
for the freedom
that waited
just on the other side
of death.

Crying,
cringing,
flinching,
wishing,
At ten years old
that I was dead.
I am not.
Somehow,
I smile.
I go on
taking my pain
and turning it
inwards to introspection
and outwards to compassion.
I think there for I plan
to be a better man
and in moments of clarity
I know that I am.

But sometimes
when I go back
slipping on wet stones
slick with my old
suicide pain
when I let the memories
the regrets, and fears
take me again
there is that blade of pain
waiting
whispering
“**** yourself you worthless
*******”

How many years
have the shadows owned my heart?
How many times
have I seen
my hope for love
blown apart?

I don’t want to
be a burden to you.
I just want to do
what you need me to.

But it’s awkward
I feel as if
I am at the end
and this attempt
represents
a last-ditch effort
to believe
love is possible
for me.

It is Sunday morning
And it used to be
Had to go to church
To find the divinity

Now I see the beauty
In our reality
See the sparkle
Of the divine in humanity

It’s not a god particle
Or supreme consciousness
More like a mental clarity
Empathy, wisdom and intelligence

I will never write the American master piece.
I will never get rich or famous,
but I will write honestly for me.
Being myself with all my messed up
Good intentions.

I have not loved a loss so well
As the hell I put myself through
Engaging this age’s darkness
Swiveling and dancing in
The cycles of sorrow's
Ancient kin
Loss, war, death, pain
Supping up the sick stew
Of carnage and fractured flesh
And reviewing it
Over and over again

Let me speak to you
Seek the truth through
The conversating we do

Tears from the tree;
The sapling cries
as little vines
bleed pain
for fellow fauna
that have fallen
never to rise again.

You can hide
The door to night
Lock up the darkness
And embrace the light,
But time will
Take your sight
Take your fight
Sap your will
Until you feel
The door open
And take you
To nowhere

This is not a request
but an urgent need
that I whisper out into
the cold morning dew
that froze before
the glowing form
of you.

It is a yearning that rips
my internal compass asunder
sending me in a tizzy
of undefined directions
in pursuit of
such cardinal sins
that make me long
to plunder the bounty
that flows from within
to out and back around again.

It is a list that I wish
to send to you
of the many ***** things
I need to do
like taste your glistening lips
indulge the full folds
of wet flavor
as I labor
to bend you to
pleasure’s will
and her unrestrained
passions.
My tongue will savage
your enflamed ****
whipping and whirling
sending you swirling
lips curling
in an uncontrollable
******* smile.

It is a beast that needs to be released
appeased by what pleases
both partners so deeply
in the sweet sea of intimacy.
For I have long imprisoned him
behinds bars of rationality
and brick blocks of logic,
When all he longs to do
is to submit to you,
to twist his neck and be exposed,
to let those deep emotions go
and grow till they bulge
breaking the ****
that ****** him for his desires.

Please do not be dismissive
of the fierce but submissive
animal inside of me
who wants and needs
to push and pull
until he succeeds
in filling the hole
inside two split souls.

It is the same kind mind
that you will find
softly stroking
your strangely strangled ego.
Drop your dress
and let me express
what I repress.
Give me your breast.
Give me your flesh
and I will worship
the sweet scented
sacrament
of you.

Today I am not celebrating the greatness of one nation but the wonder of humanity as a whole, and the hope that the illusion of borders, nations, races, religions, genders, and all other distinctions used to classify and separate will dissolve in order to form a more perfect union.

A cop blasts red and blue
distracting me
as I am driving through
while he is parked
passing out tickets to
some driver uncertain
what she should do.

The quarter is seldom given
and change must be taken.

People in power will
seldom cede
a single cent
of authority.

Unless, they are forced to.

There are crimes so cruel
That catch a soul
And cause it to shiver

And some would have us
Return to those darken ways
Because of their beliefs

But there are ways to be better
And pondering such I ask
How many sorrows could be eased
By kindness
A gentle hand
A kind glance
A hug
A soft spoken word
Adding dignity
To the suffering of humanity

We must move on
The soft earth we tread on
Holds the dead
Holds our dread
Hope we find peace instead

I just want to let you guys know. I have read a lot of poetry books, but I seldom find the kind of quality and depth in those books that I find here and on tumblr.

Come forth to dance my fairy kin
For long have I grieved the loss of innocence
Fluttering wings of fanciful dreams
Where children and cherubs sing
Where teddy bears parade and play
Till the picnic prepared is displayed
and they can devour delicious honey treats
Where goblins conceal themselves admiring
The playful Pegasus’s acrobatic flying
Where guardians with soft pearly feathered wings
Protect all young and saintly human beings
Where spirits offer solace to combat the grief
Of knowing that all things living will be deceased
It is a land of legends, fairytales, and myths
Where only children, fools, and dreamers visit
And I miss it dearly
For in adulthood I have been many years
Separated from that fantastic realm

A quick and queer query,
soft elegy revealed to me
within the silk melody
of the muses who wrote
history in the form
of a dying mystery

I know better
I love life’s pleasures
Unlike the old philosophers
Who created grand systems
Of morality
That they could never live up to
Systems that sustained their ego
But I know
I am no hero
Half hearted
Hopeful
Maybe a word warrior
Working wisdom
Into my poems
But I do not sacrifice much
I am weak
I love
But not enough
To decimate myself
Not enough to give up
The pleasures of my life
I know myself
I would like to be better
But I am too **** lazy