My fellow poet- crap
on my prose if you feel the need-
because I know
that **** and **** crap and that
are what i fatten the pig with
making the rose fallow indeed
Or, let us say
**** on it!
It makes it yellow!

I am not period(.)
nor apostrophe(')
I am important
dashed immortality(......)
my ashes will remain and feed
someone(,)
if only a slug sloothing in comma days(,,,,,)
on the side of a freeway overgrown
with wildflowers and **** around
an exclamation mark(!!!!)
a mark of quotation(")
I decay and feed
the next generations
semicolon(;) seed;
If I have any say (period.)

Speechless
Trying to let something out, maybe burst out
Probably shout out
Possibly break out
..
But no, not even close to talk it out
Ravaging inside me
Like a vulture ripping the **** out of its prey
..
Scared of flaming it out
What if it went wrong?
Since it always goes wrong..
Attempting so hard to gather my thoughts together
But they're like drizzles sprayed into the air
..
Returned to being insecure, on the inside
On the outside, seeking a queen, precious.
Excessively a judgmental world
Harsh claws, digging into prohibited areas
..
Not good, not good enough
I'll never be good enough
Not only to everyone, but especially to *him.

When I see the clouds shined by sunset,
I have to go home now.
When I see the bird’s shade,
I have to go home now.
I have to go home.
It is sad.
Why does today end here?
See you tomorrow?
Tomorrow and today are
Different.
Today is only today.
Tomorrow is different.
Today’s me doesn’t exist
In tomorrow anymore
And, neither does today’s you.
There doesn’t exist
Today’s touch anymore.
Nobody knows that
Today and tomorrow are completely different.
That’s why
I cry
In this evening.
In the shiny bright evening,
Today is closed.
In this time,
When a bulbul’s voice
Slashes the sky,
It is the same feeling.
All that I’ve earned,
I don’t need.
The annual fleabane’s white bouquet
That I gathered
Is withering
In the hands
Like the letter that was never read.
I’ll throw it away onto the meadow
And run away
In order not to be seen by the first star.
To be honest,
I want to be absorbed in the dark sky
And disappear
Because I can view the uninhabited vacancy
From the sky forever
And I might even see today’s back there.

The night is still
Holding it's breath
In anticipation of the charcoal clouds
That are rolling in
Like a rising tide,
And with whips and cracks
The skies break their banks
And rain pours forth
From the heavens
And the clouds collide
Like gunshots in the air,
Bones breaking against wind,
Light scatters across the atmosphere
A haze of purple and blue
Fleeting, but brilliant
Passionate, but deadly
A tremor that shakes the walls
Of brick and stone houses
A wound ripped in the sky
Electrical blood seeping through
the cracks and crevices.
The storm is upon you.

A long haul flight from Amsterdam
that never made it to the end
NO! No the innocents died
when the pressure from the finger was applied
to that simple button
No, their lives never ended in the explosive flash
that caused that mighty plane to crash
They fell over 30,000 feet
they knew there was no hope
The shattered wreck their funeral pyre
dreams gone up in smoke
80 children died there in that war torn land
never to fulfill their destiny
their shattered remains spread over a foreign land

Yes... The innocents died... But for what?

I trace my fingertips
along your neon facets.
I twist and turn you
to make a match
or make a mish mash
of coloured squares.

You bring me back in time
to 1980's plastics.
I cannot solve your puzzle
for i lack your cuboid logic.
But just to rotate and
feel your shape in my hand
is sublime and fantastic!