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When does the
champ know that  
he doesn’t have  
It anymore?
Is it after that
first loss to a
*** he should  
have knocked out in
the second round?
Is it when his body
doesn't do what
his mind tells it
to do?  

His punches are
slow.
His legs are
weak.
He once was one
of the greatest.
Iron Mike, they
called him.

He loses to an
overhyped cute
boy with little skills,  
and blonde curls.
It was brutal to watch.

He was king of
the jungle in those
early Brooklyn days.
Old lions don’t just
wander off and die
alone.  
They get killed and
eaten by  
younger lions.

After this charade,
I hope the champ
hangs up his
gloves for good.
Here's a link to my youtube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbj9bj58Txw
all the voices  
gathered in my digital scream  
somewhere on a site  
devoted to stream ,live  
i wield words aflame  
i share and laugh with joy  
alone but never lonely  
look at what the web has  
given me  
a liberated mind  
touched by global threads  
something that shines  
brighter than any daytime opery
The arms of eternity open,
like a sentimental bolero played
at some in-between place,
they open lazily
and incandescently,
encircling the comically and silently raging,

Poetically, and gently,
the phantom draws her wings towards forgetfulness -
at the eye of the temple -
distant,
full of guidance
and potential.
The profound silence of bitter lives.
On a cold Thursday morning,
I sit outside, bundled up
in layers upon layers,
battling the weather.

Forty degrees is a heavy burden
for a man raised under an island sun,
beside hibiscus and ixoras.

It eats at my hands,
and feathers my nose.

What a blessing
to feel,
to be alive.

Oh, but what a curse.
I want to take you to a flower field,
Lay down, watch the stars as they shine,
And whisper things about how jealous
They are of your beauty.

Even if we are two different skies under the same atmosphere,
We will unite and make them talk
More and more about us—
The moon and the sun,
The never-ending fear
Mongering and unecesary
Stress that will come to us, forgotten.

And the only thing we will hear
Is the whisper of the stars.

Keep calm and wait.
Wait for our futures to intervene
And make one present.

Keep calm and wait
For my hands to run down your back,
Through nooks and crannies.

Feel your breaths,
The breeze,
The side eyes of the celestials,
I want gravity to no longer exist.
I want existence
To be a mere presence
In our everlasting ceremony.

I want God to remember us by name,
Just like Adam and Eve—
Sinners from birth.
But right now,
It doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters
But the look in your eyes.

The sweat that
falls on my chest,
The lip bites,
All those little things
Im able to notice
Under the supervision
Of the night.

The way your lips
Impatiently wait for mine.
The moon shine glaring on your face,
Caressing your hair.
Every little light it sheds
Paints me a picture of how beautiful you are.

Oh, how beautiful you are...
Idle word redemption day. {optional title}

Clocking time.
Timing coincidence,

confident tempus fugit…

ever learning, never certain,
each lessoning examined

conscience temptation, fug-edaboudit,
esse,
This is the day,
laid out
in front
of time's arrow

to be shot thro-
ugh-**ing A,  okeh, shot…out
ra' rough, footballer mind
an instance
in prayer… patiently ghine

-----------

He, if he were you,

ignoring nothing, finding quiet

time, alone,
in an empty house;

he would think, being as you
were he, I think,

rare, quiet, not noiseless, listen
the humms, the wind rattling
leaves in Live Oaks,
needles in Pines,

birds whose peeps are
playing
with my ears,
tuning mine
to his who hears

quiet time slipping by,
acknowledging most
deafening noise

is all
in the mind.

--------------

Wally Amos, are you still famous?

Me, too. Locally.

Famous for fine grandchildren,
Parent-Teacher Conference
confirmed, year after year,
fine
grandchildren given access
to books, and self education,

And wicked fast internet/
tutorials for anything

solvers of Rubic's cubes,
setters of gathering magic what's

and ifs, and but then, so that's
better, he thinks, this tinker

touching each across time,
think yourself useful to us all. Amen.

----------------------




Laughing, thinking of shouting,
at the floor, I am
so intense
because

I am alive
in my own future,
the world's a mess, unless,
I laugh,
and take the good.

It is a sunny November day,
after the promised latter rain,
laughter functions, leaving lines

where old faces wrinkle happily,
fitting character traits common
to old scout squinty perspicacity.

-------------------

Bored, in ever after, eh?

¿Made no plans
    to pursue, when you had time?

Well, as a filler word,
or is it
a feeler a
wordwiggle rough
through a ra'thought,
be may, may be, maybe so,
declaratively so said, indeed, thinking
beauty be,
what if now,
is the same time,
any instance taken
seriously curious wise,

from the initial point perceived, taken, held
to hold this thought, or hold that thought
as self evidently true,
having being
in minds
let be found like live words,
in spirit form, as breaths, taken

held, to rethink against knowing again
what was meant,
so long ago,
when all words got scrambled,
some lost all sense,
such be idle, now,
set to activate
on recognition, off, set
which is no longer the case, you know
common conscious
ness is the use, men-tal chabad
of knowledge actioning knowns
under the God
pledged and sworn
to try to tell the truth,
the whole truth y nada mas,
aliegiantly, in the spirit of Liberty…
inspired emperically in poetry
IF, Gunga Din
allah
Tha… just so, says
fear was the problem,
not knowledge
of wonder and adversity,
so opposed
for honor,
as translated good vs evil,
to death, staining beguilement,
from aha, got it, reason
to woe, original curse, sin
during developmental stages
interesting times first tier burns
of what our story says we mustabin,
in the dark ages, previous to the internet.

[[== jest, so ==]]-

eftsoons
obsolete or archaic way
of saying "soon afterward,"

ongean magical once more,
with feeling.
If life did not pass so fast, it could be much more phun.
My scarecrow has a brain.
My Tin man has a heart.
Dorothy circles the drain.
She went back to the start
Her lion found his part.
Time moves us all apart.
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