Your long black branches are broken into fine detailed pieces,
One piece followed by the other in harmonizing perfection,
Unfolding dark colossal secrets of your past.
The howling sound of your cries beckons my soul,
The scent of your cut-off roots lures me into your sanctuary,
With tears on your fragile leaves, I hear you talk
And I solemnly listen; your resonant voice pierces my ears.
I silently scream into your exuberant core,
Closing its walls upon my vulnerable body,
Choking in subsequent intervals of beat-racing time.
Your radical leaves blind my vision,
And you watch my petals wilt into thin air.
The chemicals you inject me with are dominant to my thorns,
Inducing a form of uncontrollable intolerance towards you,
And yet, I don't want to depart from your strong grip.
You're designed to break me, to degrade me from my shelter,
And to degrade yourself from affection and sentimental memories
You could rip my roots off, but your suicidal acts shall remain.
I lie in your core, distant from the raindrops that keep me breathing
Only to realize that, you've left me..
*Leafless.

Boredom is a disease
But it is easily curable
For all you need
Is an imagination
And nowhere to be

As i lie here
with my sword in hand,
I try to convey my feelings
without sounding cheesy.
But while my arm is getting tired
and my brain emptying,
my heart keeps beating,
trying to convey these feelings
into art that will take your breath away...
but these letters don't seem to want to arrange
in a pattern that is pleasing
to both the eye and the brain.
So while rain pounds
on the window pane
i will lie here trying to fight,
with a sword thats too heavy
...


So i will practice
until this sword weighs no more
then the pencil
held in my right hand.
I will write
until my heart
can beat no longer
for it has conveyed
all it has too say.

Why do my paper
When theres better things to do
Like dreaming of you

Definition of
an American poet:
living a half-mile
from the canyon's cliff, but still
insists he lives on the edge.

This temper that lives inside
Storms out unexpectedly
Like a monster unleashed
Ignited by stress

Spilling Anger
Yelling in irritation
Sensing my mother
Lurking in my shadow
A vile aftertaste still lingers
Forced fed by her poisonous venom

Until I realize
I'm roaring
Splashing my screams onto
My loved ones
Making them cry

The beast has taken over
From the depths
Where my momster
Lay her eggs  
Waiting for them to hatch
And be released
In shame and guilt

The last thing I want
Is the mirage of that
Ghost haunting
My babies

The creature that resides
Hidden from the world
To protect against  
The carnivores who feasted
On my innocence

Now breathing to exhale my scare
Away from my young's oxygen
One breath at a time until
The monster's ghost
Has settled back
Deep inside my oppressed soul

© Jl 2016

You are a traveler of the South lands
brown, a leathered skin coyote
desert walker of the Sonoran sands
crafty, black magic witch
a shaman, lucid dreamer
Yaqui Indian spell weaver
of visions, of paintings in the sand
mixing colors, peyote flowers
red, the melting of the aloe bowers
dark blood, the blooming agave towers
thick with snakes, the fire and hiss
that burns black of sacaton grass
the quiver and flash of flying sparks
igniting night, time traveling to the stars.

When the day was dying
I was back to the market.

The last time I was there
haggled with her over the price.

She wanted to sell high
I wanted to buy low.

You win she said at last
I bought high
but have to sell low.

I knew she was lying.

This time she wasn't there.

Someone said
her man had left for another woman
and she hadn't since been seen.

The deepening evening hung like a dagger of pain.

She was never good at bargain.