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be ever gentle to thy words
treat them, your tools, well,
cleansing and protecting,
wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin
that they may be well conditioned and
pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous,
reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage,
they are well-intentioned to exist far longer
than your meager temporal life,
upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit

give them all respect, their fair due,
they are treasure immeasurable,
for which you have been granted guardianship,
custody received from others to be gifted onwards,
yours, but for the duration

so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction

more truffle than trifle,
find them in the dark forest of your life,
use them sparingly, just for soaring,
take them from the roots of your trees,
shave them with a paring knife,
counts them in bites and measure them in grams,
even in grains,
for words are the seasoning of our lives,
agent provacateurs that can modify the moment,
bringing out to the fore
the flavor of the underlying

speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor them at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them
Oct. 6, 2015
4:30am
Manhattan Island
you have the formula

A Love Poem Recipe:
  Fij = G(Mi x Mj)/Dij.

This formula, simplified, means that trade between two markets will equal the size of the two markets multiplied together and then divided by their distance.
(The model gets its name from its mathematical similarity to the equation in physics that describes gravitational pull.)

~~~

long ago, swore off
the love poem business.
lying that this
the last poem ever published

moan not,
statistically, for sure be
a heart-infected sick teenager
bemoaning/high fiving
their  fated status
but I don't need to add to
that smoldering pile

the excellence, the richness,
the virtuosity
of the formula
a metaphor,
for the bounty and the risk,
in any love affair, thus love needy
for a diagrammed explication

two markets, soft upon each other,
multiply their trade in love and kisses

can you kiss her (him) but once?
nonsense!

saying I love you
but once a day,
like it was a vitamin,
preposterous!

no, love expands like a gas
(a distant cousin to our formula),
filling in the empty spaces,
escaping through crevices,
spilling, oft filling up
the nearby bystanders

in love,
there is no thing as
one touch clicking
but one touch
reveals the genetic marker,
the initial intimacy injection

Let the addiction begin!

ten thousand grasps,
some soft, some hard,
upon each other,
till fingers go lifelong contented numb

desire and affection spread like a
positive infection,
the curative powers
elegiac,
but never prosaic and though
formulaic
think more
voltaic and paradisiac

electric heaven

go forth and scribe
you got the secret
recipe
9/5/15

uncovered and recovered from the X file today

and found the short version  as well
<•>
The Last Poem Ever Writ
the last poem ever writ
by the dimming light of virtuality
and the laws of statistical probability,
shall surely be,
a teenager wail and bemoaning,
of a lost love yet smoldering,
a chest pain ember peaking,
then fire forever, last glow eliminated


who can weigh the greater apocalypse,
tragedy that none will remain
to glean and savor this last fling,
or that worldly existence has come to end
Such a lovely way
You make my heart skip a beat
Like rocks on water
Love Has me feeling inspired
Be like water,
be formless.
Be like a lion,
be fearless.
Be like the universe,
be limitless.
Be like Bluetooth,
Be wireless.
Be mysterious,
leave people clueless.
Be like a guard dog,
be restless.
Be like a machine,
be tireless.
Be a true hustler,
be relentless.
Be a fantastic poet,
leave your readers speechless.

IB-Poetry©️
12/6/2018
Water is formless and odorless...as humans, we aren't but as poets,we can leave our readers speechless!
to be that
silly fool
quiter failure
loser *****
meek and scared
you don't have to

. . . be that
big fat mistake
that you once made
maybe a dozen times
it doesn't have to
define tomorrow

as today
is not yesterday
and this year
is not last year
as this life
can be almost anything
moving forward

if you try
and just...
show up

for every single day
can be almost anything
The truth was painful, so you buried it
Dug a hole into the earth six feet deep
Nestled it right beside your childhood
Threw some dirt upon its coffin and fashioned a crude cross out of bones and teeth

In death, Truth is just as ugly as it was in life
But you feel safe with it out of sight
You loosen the fist you weren’t aware you were making
You tend to the ****** red crescents from where they’re branded into your palm
You say a few words but what words are left when they’re buried below your feet?

You tell yourself it was a kindness
You swear to yourself that it was a means to an end
But there was no justice when you held its life in your hands
No mercy when you buried your fangs in it’s heart

You convince yourself that it was an act of love
“The truth is painful” and “the world is ugly”
Without the truth, you believe maybe there’s still some beauty in the world
Can convince yourself that the blood red rose on an unmarked grave is a sign you were right

Six feet under, Reality is weeping.
The sea is resting now
after a long day
gnawing at the edge
churning in deep hollows
ever so slowly eroding
this peaceful coast

Sand is the issue
of this marriage
sea and sky
combining to
make the land large
in its retreat

A handful of sand
to the winds
my life
to these tides
I am a born free.
From the shackles of
apartheid
Yet, I complain,
About experiences I’ve never had.
Am I truly
Born free ?
south africa is lost
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