There will be
discontentment.
Every now!
And then, knock...knock
Knock! It likes to,
on thoracic
diaphragm.

Capillaries
become filled with
emptiness, and
the brain knows this.
"Fill the empty!"
How it must feel
to know but keep
the heart's shadow.

Blood is boiling,
Blind is leading.
There are voices,
keep repeating
the eulogy,
and attendees
all deserted
ceremony.

For one last wake-
ing breathe, "Wake up!"
Muscles convulse.
Some dream before,
Soul floats above,
observing life
in control of
playback time.

Fear...Happiness.
Anger...Surprise.
Sadness...Disgust.
Another reprise!
"Take this drug for
medicinal
purposes, please".
Paralyze...numb
Tranquilize...dumb.
Petrify...stump.

"Why don't you wake?!"
A shrieking gasp,
Oo-oo-oo-Ahh!
Then heavy pants,
Ahh, Ah ha, Ahh
"'twas a close one",
The dark matter
shifted away,
the brain in cue.
What was it then,
discontentment?

It hasn't clues.
"I just want more",
said the voices
in the poet's,
"of life, that is".
Reprise!

Pizza--the only I want to poor my feelings onto
Because when I think of its filling capacity--
Its carb-heavy, fat drenched, and sugary-savory goodness--
I honor the people who continue the artisinal craft.

Pizza--it's the food for all hungers.
It fills you with energy when you're high,
Just after a win with a cheery, rowdy gang of five.
It's the traditional topping on the pie.

Pizza--All and everything, when the time calls.
When the emptiness cannot be filled,
Let it be filled with years of associations.
All in good company, Pizza, my best friend.

So I met a new person today--quiet and resourceful,
She was counting her inventory,
Solving a problem set or learning a new trick.
I barged in while she put aside her life for mine.

She said, "What may you have, sir?"
"A medium with pepperoni," I said, "and linguica, please".
That was all that's said  as she carried on her fees.
"That'll be $18.05," and a shot of guilt charged me.

Pizza, though poor my feelings how expensive the taste!
When, just then, she collected the money
The pizza was all too simply done and I was on my way.
I was the one left, saying, " Well, enjoy your weekend!"

But as I drove and the pizza aromatized,
Neither she nor I were free from capitalized.
A self-disciplined pizza artist, stripped of her dough,
Like the boy who made chocolate with a molinillo.

Feeling emotions are a privilege.
Nobody is apologizing, just move on.
Stop holding up the line, now, move.
You're searching for something gone.
We must get back to our packages
Of meat made of water and grain.
They are all that we can salvage
And it helps take away the pain.
Ring up some cheese in plastic,
It was slaughtered just this morning.
And two tubs of dead yogurt? Fantastic!
You can charge it on the brain.
Shuffle over, now, keep it moving.
You're on the clock as the livestock,
So be a good employee.
Now, who's a good boy?

Feeling emotions are a privilege.
To someone who suspects death
Wouldn't you see it coming?
So make it easier on yourself,
Take these pills--numb it away.
Or, would you rather have it stay?
Let it linger in the aftertaste
With a joint and a bottle of gin,
Inhale the tobacco and *******,
And a tab of Lucy or jab of heroine.
Wake up the next day--repeat again.
Who's got time for feeling today
When we pay to throw it away?
Feelings are unnecessary,
Overwhelming if unabated;
They reveal our fears as hatred.

Feeling emotions are a privilege.
They are fleeting moments still
Still as the water even as it ripples
Resonating within, without.
They are murky as the sediment
Searching within, without
A clear sense of being settled.
They are forgotten and ignored
In the advance of the explored.
But they carry the human form
From adapting to its current,
Curbing lives with improvisation
Irrespective of the former.
Feeling emotions are a privilege.
A person may introspect on life
Learning as the waves keep crashing.

"Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you."

I find you deep within the cherished ruins
among a thousand or so neglected orphans
to adopt a much needed voice; sing to me!
I am digging where truth remains to my surprise; a time capsule, a seed, hidden in the seaves
crowded at a large party; everyone is talking at once!
My dear guest is travelling in and out, around and around nowhere to be found.
Slow down and tune in to that magnificent songbird, you are alluding my grasp once more for pleasant company always does best on its own.
May I take a step and follow tune? I hear a rainforest of life buzzing and cawing my attention.
All my senses--all my senses--before, I was senseless. I walk the leaves of grass feeling their blades as their very voice tickles my skin.
I breathe a deep concoction of several layers flora, several layers fauna.
Allow me this moment to flip the refined, manufactured lumber waste byproduct, stamped with ink, for a glimpse of the map to the Americas.
Show me; identify me their Latin and common names of the truth that remains.
I find you in an excavation site, as I am paid to do so, for any resemblance reasonably worth saving; so I find your seed locked in nature's safe locker of petrified amber, maintaining a pristine vitality.
May the scientists support the art or choke it out like a ****; or should one ask whether fruit is more tasteful, wholesome and bearing in the presence of a few weeds?
To find your essence of essentials extracted with full integrity so I may travel the Americas to see which climate bears most fruitful from seed;
But I am astonished that just as much North is welcomed as much South, and as far West of Hawaii or Alaska is as much resilient as far East of Maine.
It matters not where I go next but that I do go, and that there is a next stop in which I find myself waiting for you.

Breathing deeply; stretching, fencing, and the writing inkpen
Breathing outward; shoveling, climbing, and the driving wheel
Breathing inward; directing, leading, and the staffing meeting
Collapse the boundaries and calm, our young one
Few survivors feed the light to a maze of mirrors
Breathe deeply; shining, reflecting, and giving light
Breathe outward; being, becoming, and joining union
Breathe inward; en masse, en masse, en masse!

Death? Does it come in daily frustrations,
    folding inward upon the self and closing?
Does it come greeting company hereto,
    providing sympathy, but never gratifying?
Does it come with timely measures
    of production only Death sees procrastination?
Does it provoke consummatory transactions;
    one at the end of the stick, the other authoritarian?
Does it cause one to freeze in position,
    catatonic and reptilian?
Does it provide the invisible barriers;
    hard to hear the soft spoken?
Does it appear in disguise as happiness contented,
Or does it whisper to the ear the various "potion"?

When all the dust has blown
By all the rust be grown
Change the scene for once more;
Leaf in the wind, and spore.

An infinitesimal seed
So hapless and inconceivable,
That emptiness of heart
Germinates of a green new start.

A negligible bacterium
To the unforeseen eye
Effervesce, bloom and spume!
Company will soon greet you!

O embrace the sobering ground,
'Tis here just like you found.
All the resources will draw nigh,
'Twas in you all this time!

All need words of encouragement,
Some protein and enzyme.
Rest, reactants, in thy calm tent,
Get some shut eye to see rhyme.

But ever haunted of the past
Should the even'n empire return(1)
See a world in a grain of sand(2),
But never Heaven on this land.

Lo the booms and the busts!
Lo expansions and recessions!
Lo the mad and the sad!
Lo multitudes and solitudes!

O humanity I love you!(3)
How generations trapp'd
That live in cells within, imbued
To so idly stay rapt.

But to their good fortune, adapt!
You shall be absolved
Walking with peace as every stepp'd(4),
The diplomat endow'd

Alas! A new variety!
With such resilience
In ev'ry zone, ev'ry climate
Here to live, here to please!

A soft compression to the chest
Marinates the muscles of the breast
Of flesh and blood hearts are brazen
Flush of oxytocin--abrazan.

O tender heart that teeth console
Stab a fork and set it free
Savor the faint beat of dole
Soak in spirits--purity.

Return, the warmth lingering,
This conductor's menagerie
Into the grounding state again
For a woman to hold is dame.

Look here,
"What's your major?"
What's that got to do with me,
Much less petty.

I'd like to start a trend
(sure why not everyone)
To reply to this friend-
ly under-toned question:

"Get to know me first
and find out for yourself".
One Little Outburst,
Yet...

Laden with the unimaginable
never-ending, tortuous self-criticism
(Okay maybe not for everyone,
But it sure is asked to the infinite brim)

Such a question should be offending,
Even if one really is deeply involved,
A person cannot be defined
Or confined to one thing.

To give credit to the inquirer
Default to the English language
Commonly used here
Which is to say this garbage:

"I know you study various topics,
but what is your focus?"
Poor inquirer rarely asks; thus,
As the respondent would rather;

"What is it you are
passionate about?"
It May Be A
Far              
                                                              
C­ry
For the inquirer
to cite some
Inductive reasoning here.

Oh! The respondent is
(Emotionally defensive)
Suspicion of someone who majors in
Something that is not practical.

This cannot be the case,
Especially with the nerve,
For it is not known
What people gown

Discriminatory in nature,
To ask and to reply,
Results in a label or a lie...
Fermented questions mature.

Now we mustn't run around questions;
Answers must stand and must move on.
In writing we have the privilege of inspection
We do not in speaking.

The question is a contraction--
Heuristic--or
Lasting impression of post-industrialism:
Simplify collectivism!

Prefers the blunt conversations
From points A to B;
Linear  
Mathematics.

"True" or "False" prefers
Complexities to be imagined;
Respectively refers
Anthropomorphically confined.

Prefers the contractions simply
It flows out of the mouth.
Practical of common wealth
This person is not hardly.

Prefers this heuristically;
The pragmatician short cuts.
Anxiety becomes too much
To express oneself truly.

Enough character of inquirer,
Discrimination is offensive.
Most students by default of most schools
Study various topics; in which is called

"Breadth requirements",
Should also be re-termed as
"Breadth opportunities".
Life: an example of experiences.

Study has no differentiation; 
What is lived is learned.
But why the separation?
Opposing ends, family and education.

Not for long, and
Not for everyone;
What learned is lived, and
Which lived hammered nails for shelter. However,

Though we may want and try to be experts,
Every field must settle for mediocrity.
Every person must make decisions
Of time and money, indeed.

There is truth to every major, like a stem cell
Mitosing daughters--any cell and of itself;
**** sapiens study
Human tools.

Hard or soft;
Art or science;
Weeds or grass,
Fruits or vegetables;

Right or wrong
We test the theorem.
So now can you
Guess my major?

The highest spectral sensitivity,
Where solar radiation is strongest;
Fifth ninety nan-ometers--the color yellow.
All along my favorite color,
The most sensitive of all.

I have all the characteristics of a writer,
But I chose science and science fails
As it often does so that it prevails.
So I am met with choices once again
As is Life as is Time
Pick your stock and let it climb,
But as is Life as is Time
Finds oneself without a dime.

Time spent writing is Time lost
Into the deep sea of white and black
As the world becomes ever digital
It forgets what matters it lacks
So needs someone whose life is small
Where Time spent writing is Time created
Because a lesson learned is a
Lesson evaded.

But not one stops to ask
What Time is Time degraded?
Not one questions the grand investment
That Time spent is Time earned
Wherein Time earned is Time enchanted
But unlike earning dollars to be burned
The treasures amassed is infinite
& How lovely for you to be in it!

Discontentment always be
knock, knock, knock!
On thoracic diaphragm.
All cavities get filled
with emptiness and the brain
It sees this anomaly, does its great job:
"Fill the emptiness!";
Ironically keeping to the heart's shadow.

The blind leading the blind,
blood is boiling up inside.
Voices keep repeating
Same old eulogy
Attendees deserted the ceremony
Muscles convulse
One last waking breathe
"Wake up!"

As if this some dream before
The the soul floats above, observing life.
The tangibleness of time:
<Fear>
              <sadness>
<anger>                  <surprise>
<happiness>          
                        <disgust>; now reprise.

"Take this drug for medicinal purposes."
$Paralyze
               $Numb
                          $Tranquilize
               $Dumb
$Petrified
               $Stump
"Why don't you wake up?!"

One loud shrieking gasp
Ooh-aah!
Heavy pants
Agh
                           Agh
            Agh
"That was a close one..."
The dark matter shifted away.

The brain followed its cue;
What was the discontentment?
It hasn't got a clue.
"I only want more"
Said the voices in the brain
"Of life, that is"

I just want to peak
Out from underneath the sand
Until it all becomes too much.
I just want to crawl
Underneath and slither away.
There are no cowards, but curious.
Interest, for lack of knowing,
Peaked and it too does want to
bury; the Earth is embracing
And comfortable.
Life's lowest living creatures
--On occasion--swallow whole
The so-called higher order;
that Earth is not so embracing.
Swallow, shed, swallow, shed
Away vulgarity.
Everytime becoming difficult
To hide away, for some reason
Above ground is fascinated
With larger things in life and I
Too put it in its place.
I know because I respect myself
Enough to not get caught in a prison
Zoo or on someone's shoes;
Would you?
Hisssssssthh...

A dying gasp
A teary sigh
Breathe at last
An unquiet mind

A choking breathe
A hostile inhale
Note to self
Do not tell

A fiery chest
A sour brain
I must protest
My critic's vein

A raw relaxation
A seasoned respiration
Home at last
Analytical through trepidation

Everyday I am dead
Everyday I am born

Everyday in Earth
Everyday in Space

Everyday is consumed
Everyday is preserved

Everyday to act
Everyday to observe

Everyday needs sound
Everyday needs quiet

Everyday I love
Everyday I hate

Everyday demands speed
Everyday demands focus

Everyday is built
Everyday is grown

Everyday was new
Everyday was old

Everyday has progress
Everyday has decline

Everyday can shut up
Everyday can speak up

Clever
             creeping
                               crazy
         crass
                                            clandestine
        ­       conniving
                                   chaos...

Pardon my quietness,
I despise my voice.
If I should speak,
pardon my choice
of words describing,
revealing my limited noise
(making re-flexing
mouth) flapping
vowels, such so I entertain
entertaining, as if to
test with a swift jest
People I share acquaintance best.

Yes!
         I admire your curiosity,
much to mine,
if a human being
be a free creator divine.
But no, even so,
with all your spying...
(arid lure to my
breathless life you are denying!)
Just what information
can't you stop eyeing?
...
Stop!
Your clever charms
don't twist my arms.
Look away!
Your beguiled style
doesn't drive me wild.
Oh please!
Your confidence
appears dense.
But dare I?
Your belligerence
must penitence.
...
To what avail unveils this reveler so surreal?
I hang all my vulnerabilities on display;
Pick thy weapon, strike alas and dismay.
No business transactions here t'day.

Dear Mr. Television,

There are poor air quality in national parks.
Californians are painting their lawns green.
A ****** Galactic pilot survived failed space mission for billionaire.
Santa Cruz lost an 8 year old and found her dead in a recycle bin.
Berkeley police in riot gear hunted a man with silver teeth for robbing laundromat.
Jamestown archaeologists found first American settler remains.
LA mayor second guessed Olympic games.
SF sign said "hold it!" to keep urination off public domains.
LA police handed out "quality of life" citations to homeless people.
Opinions urged citation clinics for the "service resistant".
Others said it's all in vain without any housing.
Mexico made Presidential candidate Donald Trump into piñata,
      but the people have taken enough swing at him already.

Your pal,
Newspaper

I can smell October coming.
I can feel months of dry, chilling winds
and can see the creamy skies of peaches
hazed by the darkening of clouds
echoing the screeches
of the brown bristling leaves dwindling 'round.

The kids they play in it anyway,
and with no Summer to fuel their fun
they prey on what imagination they could weigh.
And I watch, eagerly yearning to rejoin in spirit
for the festivities is my remembrance
of a once intuitive child's play.

Light-ray kiss'd skin,
taught like work boot leather
in dagger smoothed cuff, shirt loosen'd.
He palate licks as he squints,
a primal youthful wit, daring insofar as
the shoulders broad and clenched,
coiled and relaxed,
and restrained.

His stretching hands crawl
sense and twitch
like legs of tarantulas
beating to the sharp strings
of guitar stings,
yet not he be unabashedly
gripped away from focus.
The outstretch of his serpentine back,

once filled with poisonous confidence,
will unhinge jaw-dropping shoulders
Fang the wheel
'til a turnout screech and heel,
burning rubber as his sun-glistening
hair'd arms coil back into the gears a-
shift,
                  shift,
                                      
shift.
Music to his ears,
of turbulent pistons pushing steam.
Hot wet steel smashing
inside bright loud sparking vacuums,
oozing to a cough
of the last thrusting.
Dare not he who keenly sees.

He sees said finish line,
'Tis all enough necessity
fit for one with pure integrity;
if should so challenger dare attest
he, shine down and saddle up...
This young handsome is beastly struck.

If you should call yourself a student,
a truth-seeker or breadwinner,
live this life to learn--be prudent,
and absorb the evils of the litter.

Falter you mustn't
for this path you've chosen,
among others christen'd,
to be whipped and woven.

For when even life is beat, it is
sweetened with enough strife
as to never yawn or sleep, that is
but to see a cause to strike.

On the road like the beats;
Do light the fire of Yeats:

For what's a student got to eat
but a diet of dry pasta and black beans?
For who's a student got to be
but a-filling the mold and breaking the seams?

For how much a student's got to have
but a-cashing the last eight dollars in coin?
For what's a student go to know
but abashing knowledge for generations to join?

For where's a student got to go
but when a-coming home given the snare?
For what's a student got for hope
but a waterboarding victim gasping for air?

For how's a student got to live
but in living separate selves into one?
For how's a student got to cope
but to drown the fear with instant 'fun'?

For how's a student got to set an example
but being stigmatized for education?
For what's a student got to show
but to hide existential distention?

For what's a student going to do then
but to turn a-back from all with clout?
For who's a student now?
but, now, I considered dropping out.

And for what's a student got to Bear
     but to no fault overhear:
"The Universities are a day care"?

So, hear this, I bring thee to light
It would mean our honest delight
For all to know our dire plight
But as we sing our "Fight, fight, fight!"