Every morning I greet the sun smelling like jasmine and spice
the rays roll through my window
bend nicely and tip their hats like good gentlemen
Only to figure out that I am a man

Surprised and Bent waves stiffen up in their stride
as they switch between reaching down to kiss my hand
something they subconsciously planned to do
ever since that smell of sensual perfume heated up
even the hottest, and the coolest
made them too woozy to stand
to giving an improvised hand shake
A clumsy dance between the fingertips of the prejudged
And the disappointed
As if the swirls in their palms anointed my unexpected presence
Uncomfortably appealing

Their mothers told them not to place judgment on a first impression
that they made, drowned in a sensual stupor
Of pretty scents distributed into the atmosphere
but then my personality
my mannerisms
And the way I walk and talk
WAFTED into their nostrils
like some woman dolled up before a date
with no one
to sit alone and wait
for some wreck of a man to pay a visit
It’s a chauvinistic *******
This scent is
Until they see that this jaw line
Is what it clings to
their nostrils and their eyes
seem to not agree
on what is
me

I tell you I wake up smelling like jasmine and spices
like a woman who spent all night in sin
taking pleasure from her vices
With sweet smelling oils contained in florally adorned vials,
and i waft into every man and woman’s nostrils

and eyes say man
but noses always seem to quarrel with eyes
Because to nostrils sensory surprise
It smells woman so it seems
the only logical compromise must be something in between
these sensory organs so caught up in stereotypes
Eyes bicker with ears and noses
And fingertips
Quick judgments followed by
Categories
trying to
make the puzzle piece
make sense Or
make do with what
makes people feel at ease
To make the absolutely effeminate straight male
Fit
With all the other puzzle pieces

It seems I’m a scratch and sniff
Where you scratch the picture of cinnamon
And smell jasmine
So was I packaged wrong?
No I was manufactured just right
The smell was an add-on
That was added one night
where i spent an entire evening in love
with someone I lost the next day
and in our own way
I slaved her body with oils
That smelt of jasmine and spice
And I wasn’t ashamed of it
they caressed us
and gave every motion an unstoppable velocity
every situation was slippery
and things that shouldn’t have been
almost came to be

as we slept the oils clocked out
and slid down our still interlocked bodies and into the bedspread
where it opened up its homestead
buried its dead, started families and grew in number
until the population of the smell was too strong
too strong and the one I shared the smell with
was gone

but i hold that night fondly
i hold it above my head in all its glory
and when i am judged by my scent and
questioned of my sexuality
i just tell them
I am being the scent i smelled when i discovered my masculinity
and that smell sank into my bed sheets
As an non-removable reminder
Of days past embracing my own tendencies
And a girl who I waved farewell to
And never gave that part of myself to
i am 100% man until i find the right person
a beautiful sight in the sunlight
and when night falls and i can’t see them at all
i can find even more things i like
to take that from me
and i will give it up gladly
and find what it really means to be truly in-between

I’ve found
no one is in-between because of their scent
There is no in-between except
In between man and woman
Man and man
Woman and woman
a subtle in between that you can only find
When you gaze into another’s eyes
And read three letter words imprinted on their iris
Only written for you
And discover what can really exist between two
So let’s all realize that whoever we are
We all strive to be in-between

please refrain from sleeping tonight
the sun is up somewhere else in the world
and shouldn't it be our duty to chase it?

endless sunlight just think!
of all this endless time to think
of all the movements of the earth
moving under our feet
and the sun perpetually fixed at noon
that is if we run fast enough

endless time to think of the sleep we wish could happen
while our legs moved
endless time to think of the dreams we wish we had
but we don't
because we never take the time to sleep
or sleep in
or sleep on
or sleep with
or fall asleep from the soothing sounds of some sensual sonnet
because here we cannot sleep
because we need the time to accomplish the dreams

that we never had

Talent.
So so Far I've seen the talent-less and the talented
**** heads until their skulls cracked and we peered in
and saw a garden growing green leafy creativity
Gallantly trotting across the right brain like the  breezy morning wind
And as we looked away and declared the winner had won
but cracked his skull on the stubborn brick wall
the talent-less had spun
out of hard jealousy and mortar crafted from their own lack of self discipline
The sun even sighed
died for a second
then came back alive only to find the talentless
still forrunning their forte
up every frigid full soul he found on his way
So the days saddened into rainy Saturdays
19 in a row
with the downpour too vicious to even kiss on the cheek as a pity way of putting across that
"you should really go"
the rain rained down boulder sized bouts of concentrated creative energies
only able to be ****** up by sponges with cracked skulls
and thus made into uncracked skulls
mended skulls
Talented unabridged uncensored skulls
that may drown out the talentless
just like the rain and storms tried to muster a try at
And by that we only see the talented come out walking with rain pouring Into their brains
getting ****** up by extracorpus veins
Not because they were born with contraptions
but because they avoided distractions
and gained traction in this multiverse where everything happens with struggle
and pain.

When waterfalls of tears
suddenly appear on woken eyelids
it's no use to try and hide it
the small floods that exist behind your eyes
have been denied their rights
and sat in silence
for too long!

Let them take a leap of faith
they have the strength
they're strong enough to wrestle with your fears
and steer you back up this steep bluff
towards enlightenment
away from spite for your inherent fear of heights
and the worlds unbearable weight

I'm afraid my dear you'll have to cry again
until you're light enough
to stand and fight
against the wind
it's strongest before the summit
it demands your soul as tribute
so you might be it's empty puppet
tied to a pole just far enough to see the summit
but not touch it

You remain stoic
don't weep but stand your ground
even if if those who dwell below
are begging
no
pleading
bargaining
self inflicting sadness
so you might shed a tear
on their rural tear drought ridden town

Yet you remain stoic
humble
like the gods
No! Stronger!
even the gods tears rain down
to sink the sunny days into rain and hail and fog

If you'd just cry
and let the pain out from underneath your iris
instead of seeing all the pain
inviting it in!
to rip apart your gentle eyelids!

You'd be free!
you'd weigh nothing!
you could see all you've been missing!
and even if your face contorts while unleashing storms of insanity
the rain must be torrential to nourish our humanity
and every hurricane turned to dew on the grass eventually
so i don't know what you think
but i would gladly show my sadness
to see the dew at last
with clarity.

a writer writes his writ upon his therapist
becomes a terrorist upon an innocent blank canvas
and breathes deep of deep water
searching aimlessly through the murky abyss
for word choice or some voice that sank it's teeth
into calm waters, sinking calm into the universe
beneath stormy oceans, and coral reefs
and then it is lost forever
or at least
for the quotient of our time strung together
so the writer has to make the world smaller
less corners to hide behind on an island
without defiling a perfect balance between dreams
and silence
the writer risks every random revelry being revealed
inside of a blank pages first time
to quiet the world in their minds
and find calm sealed away in a place you'd rather be
but the longer you stay reality fades to grey
and you only see what could be satisfactory
some day
a writer experiences love like a story, but euphoric in ways
unexplained except by a blank white page.
which becomes a mistrustful mistress
and you begin to miss your healthy distrust
instead of a co-trust between love and the pen and the paper
a writer can feel only through the pen
so if a writer writes on your skin
you'll know they want to see you again
and you to see them

if two butterflies lock together in the air

sharing their color in a wild embrace

their wings, their hearts, seem to fly fast

faster than before
and they will be faster forever more i am sure

               2 wings and 2 wings now four wings
four lips
two to a body
who are entangled together making one entity

living in a moment where when one half of you breathes
the other becomes breathless
the air stolen but if asked for
it would have been given upon request
       even insisted upon that one takes it
      and the other wouldn't resist

i insist, because my whole life is written nowhere
and is only spoken word of mouth
let me share my story with you and just for a second
my one story
your one history
will bloom into understanding through the courting gesture of

word of mouth
its a language all its own, written only upon shower mirrors
when we feel the most alone
with the imprint of nervous energy, before we begin realizing that
we cannot do our language justice through writing
or even story telling
we must be story experiencing
story weaving, and story dancing with our tongues in ballrooms
switching leads, and songs and dances
lit only by the warmth of the fireplace

lit by the gentle swaying of our embrace
and the taste!
it tastes like conversation
patient and understanding conversation
amid the dancing and the lights of a masquerade
where participation is not mandatory
                      because you always find your own motivation

and all of this started with a look
the one look, the one comment

"you really look beautiful tonight" your hearts don a mask, gain a rhythm, and step two steps closer
"why thank you" your heart extends a rose and is favorably taken, a hand is taken, the dance begins
"especially in this light, right here" your heart asserts a pose, and waits for the music
"no one's ever said that before" the music plays and it leans in for its partners hands
"well...." young hearts lose themselves, a slave to their own slave, as their mask falls to reveal a face

and they dance once more

just like dancing a kiss reveals everything
every sad song that brings you pain
every time youve danced in the rain to dismantle some inner child
every time you've fought the plain and the innocent
and how innocent your lips have been
where they belong

mine belong in forests, spontaneously and under street lamps
and in places i have not yet discovered could hold in a moment of such utter bliss

but my next kiss, will be there
my body lies prepared and i swear
i will not miss but if i do it only means
my wings could not fly faster with your wings

Here
I made a video right here to help you understand
Well i mean, you technically made the video...
I just uh...
Borrowed it?
I can see that you're...mad
But you know now right?
Please
Sit back down, you can wag your finger after
This is important

This is a video your child took of you mowing the lawn in 1994
Her big strong  parent, fumbling with this heavy-as-hell-is contraption
That sputters, and whirs, and kicks back
But like some superhero you...start to shove it along, and conquer the beast
And it sprays curiously alluring smog, that like a well behaved child, she knows not to breathe in,
Knows not to touch because she's not old enough
Or strong enough to pull that chord to trigger the bells and whistles
That she, nor i, nor probably you understands.

But i digress...

So here you are, with your child on the stoop, taking might i add some
Fine, stable footage you should really enroll her in some classes,
And you traveling around your suburban front yard, chasing away a squirrel with the lawnmower, harmlessly of course
And laughing with your daughter
Talking to your neighbors over the roaring engine,
Emptying the bag of fresh cut grass into the bin...

And that's where the battery died
No! Don't leave yet
I want you to watch again, listen again
Here...
Listen closely...








Did you hear the grass screaming of their judgement day, beneath the lovers kissing each other goodbye, wrapped around each other, as we hold hands, still entangled in  the mass graves you made for them

Beneath the ants cowering in their homes, begging their laborers to come back inside before they are noticed, before they are eviscerated and the foreman is forced to pay settlements

Beneath the subtle sound of your daughter breathing deeply of the sweet smelling gas that you told her to stay away from, that we learned to be repulsed by, that she has been told to be repulsed by

Beneath the...
Here, i'll rewind again
Here
You see the label on the lawnmower?
That manufacturer? That bar code? That order number? That factory? That steel purchase? That mine?
Did you hear the songs of the forced laborers there, the modern slaves that bear striking resemblance to the songs you learned in high school history class, except softer, pushed under the magazines

Beneath the squirrel complaining to the squirrel police about dangerous and disrespectful conduct it's neighbors have been performing when he comes to say hello and finally meet someone in the neighborhood, that he's lived so long in, just to be told it's not "Illegal,"

Beneath the slightly offensive joke you made towards your black neighbor, who missed the punchline over the roar of the engine, when you asked him why he was so light skinned, and whether that was a "slavery thing,"

Beneath your child hearing everything

You didn't yet...
You made that happen, didn't you?
This isn't me judging your character
I don't blame you "O' causer of destruction"

You were not given the tools i was given
And similarly i... was not given the tools you were given

You were given a lawnmower, and a camera
A beautiful daughter, a home, a job
Gas! The ability to live where you want!

I...well...
i was given the opportunity to talk to the grass...

And well...

In 1994, that same year, in Rwanda an atrocity was committed, a genocide.

And the characteristic machetes used to massacre the Tutsi people
Contained the same steel blend, from the same producer
As the blades in many lawnmowers at the time.

This isn't a conviction
I did this because i wanted you to know and be okay with being complicit because you exist a certain way
Innocent because you never knew, and couldn't have known

Because we love you
Because we need you
Because we need you to know now

In my travels i have met those
                                          Who tell me
                                                         They have lived their life without regret
******* and Lies

So i told them to take
                                    Their old cellphone
                                                    Their high school yearbook
                                                                                  And a family picture album
And sit at their colleges cafeteria dinner table from
                                                                             The beginning of dinner
                                                                             To the end
on the last day of finals
when everyone is teary eyed
                                       Saying their farewells

So they did and they came to me after
                                                         And said that they regret nothing
and i told told them
                               in the time that you sat there
within your arms reach
                              were the faces of thousands of people
that you could have gotten to know
                              
but never did

Slivers of unintended new experiences
Stuck painlessly into our feet
Moving along the same splintered wooden dock
We both have trodded before
Too safely to have carried any scar tissue
But now our earth touchers resemble
Porcupines that when touched
Refuse to release our quills
But offer a story or two to remember we've been here before instead
Of losing the memories we've gained.
And when we finally pick the wood out
it fashions into a fence gate that opens up to
New stories new experiences
New feelings new apprehensions
Just new
New looks on a new face wrapped in gift wrap
So I have to make it Christmas to open them up
without buying anything but just by giving the gift of presence as presents.
And anything more is another present under the tree
It's nice to know that sometimes when you plant trust
It grows into honesty
Honestly it's refreshing
It's a test of moral strength and how far you can carry the torch.
In the Olympic sport of courting

A gentle touch as such returned
the canyon walls carved into our fingertips mingle
and try to make sense of the gentle collision
by dancing

to learn eachothers handsteps of course
intertwining limbs before intertwining thoughts
by intertwining thoughts through intertwining limbs
only as intertwined as two outstretched fingertips can be
until they break the gentle waltz
and remain still
figuring whether the dance shall remain slow
or will the heartbeat quicken into a tango
or something new and in-between
holding
releasing
grabbing
eloping
and teasing reciprocation
only to pull back just enough to slowly motion
into a sweet caress
then they chase spatial awareness around every finger print
engulfing every nerve and muscle
every spasm of the hand is nursed by the other
till they can dance again
upon eachothers palms

i am no master musician

          yet i hear my own catastrophe glistening at every song i chose
not to sing
because i know i have vision, i made an incision in my eye socket
and confirmed it

i envision a decision ill have to make one day
     where i have my life in one hand and my heart in the other
one promises only luxury and a metaphorical prison
               and the other is like a lesion that hurts and hurts
but every time i scratch it
i shoots Ecstasy where im burnt, into the blood in my spit

and when i spit it out it turns around and tells me that it was worth it

that life is never perfect only worth it or not worth it
there is no purpose but to make your life absurd and horrid

         so you can make it out alive, and have that ten seconds of bliss
before the next drop
and hope the next stop is the next peak
maybe next week
or the next day
or the next hour
or the next second

i beckon it, and even if it doesnt come
to some that means its worthless
but i find that perfect
gives me something to work towards and not sit and be melodramatic

                               i want to live phenomenally
i want the music in my ears
the talent in my peers
and intelligence enough to not have to talk to chirping crickets
even when my friends are in front of me
            
i think i've found that here
it's quite comfy

curled and cuddled carefully in a cubbyhole

was a rolled reminder reveling in it's reality

why do reminders seem to pop up just as you regain your sanity?
when your profanity was steadily decreasing and you forgot what you've been missing?

nope! i choose to stay in the past, before this wretched ring reminded me of things
(it's gone now)
if i deny, and defy the event, the feeling won't last, it won't sting.

                                                                                Uh well i guess it didn't happen then
but it did
(UGH IT STINGS)
but it means nothing right? if i fight it, lose sight of it, i might just forget.
                                    
                                       -i- -CAN'T- -be- around- -anyone- -right- -now-
they'll peer in! they'll see my sin, my feeling!

                                                                          Feelings aren't cool!
******* excuse
check
deny the truth
check
focus on bogus pain, force yourself into the rain, make sure you don't try too hard
......

now i'm alone
why is there so much sound in here, i think i'm going to go deaf
                                                              i can only hear me, and i'm only thinking of one thing

break
come on break
let everything out, everything is at stake here, my brain is foggy
but tears are clear
aren't they?
they're so transparent, i stare and observe but the second i taste them
they're so salty, but who's fault is that?

THEIRS

HOW COULD THEY DO.........stop
                                                                                             what am i doing?

i'm wondering why no one loves me while ignoring a flooding sea of text messages and facebook updates, my hate covered my friends birthday, i put my family on wait, to sit and grovel a mistake i mistook.

umbrellas keep out the rain, but the pain remains the same, it just means you only let your tears stain
and that faint tap on the shoulder
now feels like bruises when you see
how many people you shooed away

storms are only faint reminders that someone is willing to cry with you. to scream with you
to strike down a fiery bolt of lightning with you.

                                                                          to remind you

The story opens
and the curtains reveal a man pacing back and fourth
but only within his mind
as he shifts his legs in a well used chair

We the audience, and the cellos ambiance
wait for any kind of sound apart from the squeaking of chairs
it would seems our eager stares
and judgmental glares
stretch the time between the shifting of legs
and silence becoming sound

sweat beads from his brow
because now to the eighteenth minute
he will sit in silence, broken only by
his last breath before he is to bloom
into transcendence
as written in the type face of the script

and he is nervous
the set may be alive, the dancers may be lively
but he in 15 minutes shall die dramatically
the story shall be driven upon death,
his body shall lie motionless
his heart will beat ferociously
he must be emotionless

The story closes
behind the curtain a body is risen again
a personality is peeled from his face
struck blind by seeing light through his own eyes

That night he sleeps and dreams
about being dead without a heartbeat
for once

I have fallen prey to the sirens song
Not just anyone, everyone
EVERY single chanted lyric slowly licking  my neck
And whispering in my ear in a sultry language
little lies, little spears
but lately my willpower has been lingering longer
in places where i cannot reach it
and i tend to wake to find a warm outline
laying next to me, singing sweetly
And ****
that warmth is beautiful
hot like a fire that i wished burned all over my body last night
but didn't

Though her voice touched me in ways i won't tell my children

A maidens song is a teasing whisper of what could be
with every word her spirit reaches out
brings you to your knees
and breathes through you sinfully
ghostly hair falling on your shoulders
as you fall upon her
your heart beat beating to the beat of the work of art
flowing from her tongue and her lips
the slower it is the more your mind trips and goes black
from the lack of oxygen
and the pure passion

and the faster she sings
you grow closer and closer to clutching your chest to calm your racing heart

then its over, and she gazes upon you
satisfied, seeing your beating essence through your chest
and the rest of your body
wanting
while your mind wonders at the beauty of their soul
taunting
singing only for you in a crowded room
and it is pure beauty
Ecstasy layered with an animal instinct
the air still hot with her words
and as she leaves your being blooms

i am glad i do not sail ships
because i would crash every vessel
into the cold stone that lies beneath a beautiful voice
a seductive lullaby puts this waking man to sleep
and awakens something far more awe-inspired
by the sharp eyes that look my way
releasing my unholy desires
because a maidens song is sung sinfully
but even heaven understands the sins that bring me
to my knees.

the protons and the motions screaming through the air
against black backdrops, drop emotions off
in small care packages containing

fascinating sights contained in tiny bolts of light those that cause us to jump to catch it in our hands
and stuff it in our bags before it longs for the air again
this my friends
is pure

   energy

there's something about the lights that make every moment last forever
everyone a shoulder away you've known an eternity and you want to dance with them
and never sever grasped hands with them
their faces shine in ways you never could have imagined

it's the lights

but forever always ends and darkness brightens along with it
night gives way to day and you must see them in a new shine or they fade away
their footsteps move to a new rhythm, and follow no beat anymore
but the question is can you still move to the path that they walk in?

light is never a given, it's always chance
a lance thrown into the abyss
will always persist as a lance even if you can't see it
it will be illuminated again

a single touch
and such returned
is ample tinder
for souls to burn
and yearn for yet another
tinge from the roaring fire

I exist behind my words
I swear I'm trying but the light burns the eyes
Of every coherent thought I devise
So they cower behind my molars
Little men with puffed up shoulders
Shaking from fear, I know its absurd
But bear with me, its rediculous
But hear me out
I swear they're little soldiers
of intelligence but cowardice
Who know not of their own prowess
who only know of tooth brushes
Yes I brush my teeth to rid myself of the shaking
The quaking of stupid little intellectuals
Begging to be let out,
Imagining hypothetical situations of triumph
Only in reality met with silence
Because the unintelligible break the dental barrier
Much more often than comprehensible
Logical witty and thoughtful even attempt tooth warfare
And all that happens is a stutter
Because my little intellectual insurrectionists
Cowering from the light
cannot see the others flying in the air
Not lying in wait
I hope one day I can say something wrong enough to scare them out.

So i met a someone who doesn't walk but glides somewhere between her wings and her feet
And i find myself completely enthralled that her words dance like she does
Like her lips are a stage
Each word a tiny dancer falling in line next to each other
While you in the audience can only marvel and think
Whoever put this show on must be a brilliant choreographer
With a mind that weaves like they move
And breathes on the sound of a violin string
Thus the energy builds
And you leap from your seat to join them
Then you open your eyes
And there you are
Your lips locked with hers
Breaking character with reality
Drenched in the spotlight

Is it safe to cross the meadows you knew as a child?
the ones with the meadowlarks and the sparrows
and not fear that somewhere in the dark
is some stark night terror coming
to tear you apart

and you thought you left that behind some yesteryears ago
in the dark spaces in your closet
where you kept your toy chest

So let's talk about nice guys

The "Kindness paves the path to your *******" Nice guy
The "Holds you tight to touch your ****" Nice guy
The "Can't wait to shed that friendship under the sheets" Nice Guy

And of course

The "Asks you how your day is" Nice guy
The "Walks you to your car just to say goodnight" Nice guy
The "Active listener, no ******* advice giver, forgoes eating dinner because you needed someone to just talk to" Nice guy

Please tell me you can tell the difference
I hate being mistaken for the twin I never asked for
He breaks your Windows and blames it on my good intentions
Somewhere along the line
He triple knotted my kindness to my *****
without my permission 
And now every kind word 
Is heard like a red flag
and thus making friends 
makes wary eyes
My kindness misread
Misheard and mistaken
I've learned Some sounds are better left twirling off of shot glasses than ear drums

Here we are
Guys with hearts of gold,
Sought after like they were made of diamonds
used like iron to build bridges out of our patience,
left to rust once bridges have been crossed,
How quickly brilliance is forgotten
Well trodden is the kindness we so wish we could bury so you might finally appreciate when our beauty sprouts from hardened earth instead of just being there.

You know what we wish was just there?
A Well trodden, hardened body, with biceps as unrealistic as the girls you see on TV
Drastic as the plastic surgeries
Murdering our metabolism
For our own eyes as much as yours
We so wish we weren't the last to get their first chest hairs
Maybe then parties wouldn't mean having to talk to the" are you gay?"s
Who remind us that at least we've come a long way from highschool
Where people used to just assume
With words like fists
That left bruises all the same
And yet I can't tell what is worse
These fists or being set up on dates
That I never wanted
And never asked for

11 days into my first year of college
3 in the morning over spirits and stories I was asked
"So are you gonna ask that guy out?"
my car out of gas from adventures with friends
I was supposed to sleep on her floor
And so i slept on the floor
of the halls common room
I was kicked out at 3:45 and it was raining
I didn't realize there was a wrong answer to that question
The next morning I Texted her and asked if she spelt friendship different than I did

But guys can deal with their own **** right?
And being nice is its own reward right?
I've learned to be grateful for being needed, havent i?

This is the world where I will never not be the nice guy you have been warned about,
You've been warned about every side, angle, shape and size of me
Before I've even opened my mouth
Warned that if you jump the fire pit you'll be burned
Warned not to jump the rose Bush in the garden
But everyone seems to remember trying to jump the fire pit
No one remembers jumping the rosebushes, because no one jumped the rosebushes
And we are patiently waiting, budding while we watch the fires
Be watered

But on the hundredth time one is told to wait for the silver lining rainfall, to wait our turn, soft hearts hardly remain soft but instead harden into a pulsating mesh of muscles tired of beating for other hearts who feed off our blood and give none back
We do it so we know the blood is going somewhere worthwhile, besides our extremities
Just so these two feet might walk a one way street that is so ******* lonely

belonging to the land of diversity
this Hamline university
has made me realize
how i've diversified
my insides

that tell tale question

WHO AM I

doesn't apply to those who know who they see in the mirror
but from lies, beer or
other kinds of alcohol

we see double or triple or quadruple
and above all
we want to know

which one am i...

because it's pretty hard to tell the difference between
20 of the same faces
all taking up the same place it's

so ******* hard to see one common denominator
when you wish they were all you
and wish it was all true

we're hidden
we hide and confide in our own mirror image
our own pride spies on lies that sorrow has woven
or is that also forbidden?
we can't feel or we'll be felt for
and feelings only feel fine when you don't cross the line
drawn with two left hands, because one left and one right is a sign
that you are alone in a room with everyone there
then time stops
and you feel
then it resumes
and you don't
it's quite simple really
the reality is when we really feel real reality, a feeling of love and tranquility, we feel it was only felt by
deep narrow slits in our brains love capacity, and it has the tenacity to wrap us in dreams that see
what we WISH we could see even if we see it right in front of us
it doesn't exist really
because reality only exists badly right?
"then reality struck" a saying stating tragedy struck
"it was like a dream" meaning memories were made and you relive them every night before sailing away
and never coming back to dock
but you wake up anyways
well I've dreamt tradgedy, and really had reality in my arms while sailing away
dreams are just reality with an emphasis on possibilty
and reality is just a dream that you never have to wish would actually happen
so i hope reality strikes tomorrow, and it isn't like a dream even though it seems that way

Surely,
There must be inumerous inadvertant staring contests happening
When haplessly gazing across the edge of the world
When, too tired to remember that the ocean has many shores,
One looks out seeking lighthouses
Made of curls braided into the backs of their head
As to not run aground,
Drown;
In the bottled reminders we endlessly toss at our own backs;
Why did you think the water gleams, undulates and winks
With so much meaning?

belonging to the land of diversity
this Hamline university
has made me realize
how i've diversified
my insides

that tell tale question

WHO AM I

doesn't apply to those who know who they see in the mirror
but from lies, beer or
other kinds of alcohol

we see double or triple or quadruple
and above all
we want to know

which one am i...

because it's pretty hard to tell the difference between
20 of the same faces
all taking up the same place it's

so ******* hard to see one common denominator
when you wish they were all you
and wish it was all true

everyone loved the party
everyone left their drinks out
everyone slipped their appearance and personality
into everyone's cups
and everyone drank
deeply

not even tactfully
everyone was so obviously interested in everyone
because everyone was glowing
dragging everything distasteful they saw in the mirror
back into their wardrobe
to wear when they've finally won
or lost

everyone desired everything and everyone
so they made themselves appealing to everything and anyone
they shined themselves so much that they glowed
it showed their own self misery but i cannot deny
that it made me want everything

i wanted to share a small space
too small for clothes or regrets
but just large enough for sparks that come
and fade faster than i wanted to

i wanted everything
but that is with life you may only choose one
until then i'll shine myself up again and glow
and stow away my regrets

Man, you know what's good? I ****** this fine ***** last...
Dude, **** yeah. I heard you been tellin...
Son, you need to treat women with more respect. Remember when i...
Dad, i heard your stories already. It won't happen again, i'm...
Guys, are you sick of being single? This new website is...
****, okay. Am i really doing this? I guess it's not that...
Bro, are you really using a dating site? why can't you just get girls like...
Normal? Is this normal? No, i should cancel my...
Sweetie, i saw that coffee girl making eyes at you when we were...
Blond with the notebook? No, that's just Brin. We have...
Blond with the ****? Dude you gotta tap that before...
Bro, I told you, we're just...
***, why don't you just go talk to her? She's...
You aren't listening, I...
Weak, you haven't ****** in months. She looks like she gives...
Who knows? Maybe I just...
Son, i noticed in the computer history; you aren't...
Gay? No, dad i was just...
Boy, men don't do that ****. Stop...
Maybe, maybe that guy was right. Maybe i'm too...
Dude, punch me right here. My abs are...
Man, i mean should i really be...
Never, you're never going to find a nice girl with that haircut. What's a mother to...
Girl? Well i guess it has gotten kinda...
Hey, i was thinking, do you want to maybe...
Friends, friends right? You want to...
Playa, you're such a playa. Now you got...
Man, i swear...
Baby, i love you. Do you love...
Love, I...You, I...Don't...
Men know that providing for your family is the best way to...
We aren't even that...
Cuz, remember when i stole that...
Dude, you almost got...
Boys, are you ready for some hot fun? Just click...
Guys can...do that to...
Strong, or maybe bigger? I just wish i couldn't see your...
Babe, i'm already going to the...
Mister? Why do you wear make up? Isn't that for...
No, those are just my eyes. It's how i was...
Sorry, look. You just never shared your feelings and in the bedroom i...
Honey, we were doing so well, i thought i was making you...
*****, stop crying you *******...
I'm sorry, i was...
******, pay attention or i'll...
I wasn't doing...
Pretty boy, i bet you like it in...
i'm not like that, i...
Son, we said you have to play at least one sport: It'll toughen...
i just don't...
Monday Night Football! The...
i wish dad...
Dude she's so drunk i bet you could...
i...
My **** is much bigger than...
i...
Men can stop ****, men are part of the...
i...
He for She, an organization where...
Hollywood *****, passed out on the...
Why don't you just order one of them Russian...
Gifts for him! He'll love this new...
**** me, **** me. Yea, **** me so...

*"...and then, Jill, i started asking myself: Why are our boys
doing so poorly in school, in America at least? Who's making our boys
be so ****** about *** and violence, i mean, as a mother
i'm certainly doing the best for my kids...
Then it just hit me."

Zero, is the name of my poor
poor
bass guitar
Zero scratched into the neck of this guitar
born with a permanent scar
born into my arms
as Zero

I'm so sorry zero
that i beat my why's into you
And even that why eludes
my reasoning

I beat you so mercilessly
you must be so scared
why am i afraid
of the callouses i have made
in place of answers

WHY did you **** her?
WHY do her scars burn?
WHY is she so scared?
WHY did her clothes tear?
WHY is her mind gone?
WHY can't she sing songs?
WHY did she go back?
WHY can't you hold back?
AND WHY does every time her skin crack

she is terrified to see your putrid face.
your ******* putrid face

WHY does every victim blame themselves?
WHY can't they realize there is help?
WHY do you take their power away?
AND WHY does saying

"it's going to be okay"

never ever
make it okay

Zero i beat you because i have
Zero power and
Zero ability to stop the
Zeros who keep hurting the girl who sold you to me for
Zero dollars, yet i insisted so she carved
Zero into the neck and i told you that you weren't a
Zero and that you were
Priceless

For the same reason she is priceless
because she is an instrument
and you both sing beautifully
And i swore to play your strings softly
because she speaks so softly

But now he took away her voice
And i have to play louder
and Louder and
LOUDER
so she can finally sing

enough
is
enough

Zero why won't she sing no?
Please let her sing no
end the pain and just let her sing
no

There's a gap in my brain
and it's terminal
even though i'm going to live till i'm ninety nine
this hole in my thinking
will bring me only the chronic whistling
of life billowing through it
at alarming speeds that i can neither perceive
or keep up with

just this whistling
through the gap in my brain
paining my waking thoughts
by always having a hole in my thinking
sinking in my own sand
before i realize what has happened.

if you've ever gazed into a black hole
you would know everything is both faster and slower
in all the most inconvenient ways

and it only grows!
till you're enveloped
and then life is over
and you have nothing to say for it

voila!
my persistent plague
my black hole
sapping the luster out of my words
and letting the thoughts spiral
confusingly
into dark oblivion
sigh

i dislike chasing my thoughts into the abyss

when you find them

you really can't remove them
or understand them
you just receive the perpetual annoyance of knowing something once occupied a space
and it repeats:

i found myself today walking in triplicate
two legs, three steps, then repeat
walking to the sounds of crickets chirping to remain on beat
the moonlight beckoning tribute
so i leaped upon the nearest street lamp
spun round with a joyous energy
with dismount, a bow of the head, and all crickets went mute
yet i still skipped in time with the thump of my heartbeat
the dance was not yet complete
for in following your heart
the faster it would go
the quicker the tempo
and soon you'd trip
fall and beg the moon for forgiveness
and only then would she let the sun  rise
to shed light on the beauty you had just created

Breaking news!
this'll just break you in two!
4 people in america died today!
*
Massive Explosions!

Neighborhood Terrified!

Possible Terrorist Involvement!
*
Also! I bet you didn't know folks!
this'll rattle your *******!
600 people just died of heart attacks
Right that second!
Wow!
9000 children starved in Africa,
30 People were hung in cartel controlled mexico!
Women and Children
545 People were ***** in the last ten minutes
All happening today!
Tune in tomorrow for more
and more
and more!
Because remember Tragedy doesn't happen just today
But everyday!
Tomorrow there will be another bombing and another thousand murders
Yet somehow you'll only be here today.
because every life is equal right?
right?

My God!
I so wish i slept Awake!
And walked Asleep!
and saw sounds
and heard colors
and tasted shapes
and smelled feelings

Because that would make being confused
Much more interesting
Because when dreams make more sense than standing on your feet
something is definitely missing

        Whoa whoa slow the **** down
sorry i'm typing way too fast
best tell you what it feels like existing:

******' spacey delayed vision
My creaky bones and sleepy muscles keep fussing
it's like i got a lobotomy
the incisions made with spoons
by a toddler
rearranging my brain like jumbled jigsaw puzzles
and now i'm sewn up
strewn out
trying to think my way back to order
the wires are still hooked up right
but everything seems

slower
and i feel
older
And the world is a bit
colder

to those who may be concerned
please avoid every ink drop and walk forward

But to those confident few
who sit in the pews of their own churches
and pray to their image, struck upon a cross
fashioned from bits of life experience
and the mortar crafted from strands of their own
product infused hair

A word of warning

that crown of thorny poems
whose lines weave and turn sharply
spaced out without meaning
but seemingly meaningful
yet unfull in the fullest sense of the
un-word

you only ****** your hair
and nail yourself to your own vanity
making structural pleasantries
that mean absolutely nothing

if a poem is your cross
cross it lightly
do not blind your meaning looking straight into the sun
your religion is for yourself
you died for yourself
mimicking jesus does not mean you died for everyone.

Swing the woven curtain around the pedestal
Revealing all concealed pitfalls and tall pillars
Demanding my arms to fold
And silently meet the depths
Denying that I had wept before I fell
And felt the cold wrap around my ankles
To stop
And reveal the others bound here
Those who found their falls
And faults and follies
Tossed them down, with cold realization
Wrapped around their ankles, they dove in
Hoping to meet their better
somewhere at the bottom
im among them, lazily swaying
and contemplating upside down thoughts
in an upside down world
while being right side up
when abruptly silence was broken
one dangling soul had spoken
and we found eachother
as two forms of one.

I am but the vision I created in my eyes
if I gaze into the mirror and see nothing
I am only nothing in disguise
I only follow the clock face because man invented time
from the ashes of nothing
For from the ashes of nothing
always hides something that will rise.

When problems arise in my life
i tend to boot my best mate
and make poetry my best friend
cuz' when the size of my strife
is this big..
i find letting a sole piece of paper
Carry such a boulder
works much better

so recently
i've tried to let paper carry everything
and recently
Mr. Paper has dropped a lot of heavy things
because paper is tear-able
water soluble
burnable
breakable
and a list of other things
that make it absolutely terrible
for carrying physical
objects not summed up in grammatically
and emotionally
ordered sentences
or words hap-hazardously
strewn against a milky white canvas

Paper really is only good for catching
the thoughts that are weighing
your head off to one side
so they spill out of your ears
   it gives you some pride
in your heavy ****** up thoughts
and your slightly lighter
but still ****** up head
by laying the weight out in front of your eyes
and not behind them

But the words don't just fall out
of ears
and onto paper
coated with ink
and stick like good emotions should

no

if they're too heavy they'll rip right though
and then you only have a gaping hole to try and make sense of
try making them run behind your eyelids
have them lose some weight

i know the pain is unimaginable
heavy feet stomping on your nerve endings
that exist right behind your eyes

makes your stomach hurt doesn't it?
makes you cry, makes you scream?
it's worth it
i promise you just hold my hand
and allow these thoughts to lose weight
running on your soul
ironically shaped like a treadmill

you'll know they're ready to leave
when your heavy head sulks
over a blank page
and they spill out of your ears
and leave you light as a feather
to think and breathe easy
again

and you're left with a beautiful organization
of ****** up
nearly obese
thoughts and feeling
caught beautifully onto a piece of paper
and the most beautiful thing to you
is that those thoughts are there
and you are here

trust me
i wish the words just fell out
i do
but the words don't just fall out
until they're ready to

Lemon drops melt like
Pennies on the tongue
They sting the sores in your mouth
You've dropped dollars
on each-
One too many young entrepreneurs
Told to sell citrus sores on street corners
Cause cars to slow-stop, smile
And remember:
Our duty is to make the change jar jingle
With Coppernickel piles
Of tender value; fifty cents of winking
Creased faces tumbling
In plastic cups
Talking of irony,
Per stinging sore.
Coppernickle smiles underneath your shoe
They've certainly owned slaves before-
You

If sitting in a place i've rested before
relying on this chair
and not my humanity to keep me off this floor
means that i've returned
that i've earned my right to remain
on this tropical shore, made of words
stricken out of texts and lore
i will choose another seat
i remain returned but my fire yearns
for fodder to render it complete