Sit there and watch
the power of the moon
feel how you are moved
by Her
your blood at her mercy
Watch the tides and learn
to surface when it is safe
enough to breathe  
wax with Her
and wane with Her
learn to swim with the
mutable tides
of your existence
navigate these hours
by Her
then see the bounty
of the moon spill into your life

On this plane
we are flesh
made from real tears
and freshly spilt blood
we feel the incisions
to the bone
of everyday assaults
some minor
spoken words
some monumental
trauma that leaves
us stifled in our tracks
it's more than a dream
and more like a
never ending nightmare

You scream like a banshee, woman
and you would be one
You think white as bright as the sun
You are killing us
This drought
The impeccable thirst
with your burning word
tone it down, mama
be like the moon
and reflect on it
Be cool and have the courage
to whisper it in our ears
be fluent in the sheer joy
of silence
Let us figure it out
for ourselves

You play me
like an adagio
Unhurried but dissonant
You challenged me
Moved me to
the inner depths of you
I got lost
without knowing
Until I heard you
in G minor...over
and over again
Now I'm the silent breath
between your notes

Play on, maestro, play on...

at most we are
the cosmos.
humming in hi and lo.
to the vibes you cannot see
but feeling with your soul
your feet
moving to the rhythm of notes
that we are together
in unison and out.
but even in our dissonance
We are in harmony
in sync
with something
beyond us.

But what if I love
the reflection of
my own soul
its vibrancy
its complicated depth
the ever evolving ways
it expands underneath the radar
of human awareness
How it makes everything
unusually special
Thru these eyes
thru these soul lens
everything is metallic
like a mirror
that loves the reflection
of me

Respect the beat

they dance wild to
the rhythm

it reminds them
of life and breath

The beat always
be... Mama...

Always listen for it

ground yourself
by it
to be yourself

She is the beat
unto you

find your own truth
thru your own breath...

To thine own
beat be true

He is double-sided
and speaks with a second tongue
There are legions of him
rising out from under stones
casting spells
to win you over
would-be plasticized trophy
He will bamboozle you
with the sweetness of his lips
He is no sir lancelot but
a shapeshifting
boogie man waiting to
kidnap you and
hang you on his wall

To marinate.
in the warm opacity
0f then.
return to the black succulence.
when oblivion wore on you so well.
Your face was the night
gleaming with hefty stars.
You being infinity feeding.
what prize is this?
beneath this eternal veil.
for the eyes that have kept you awake
belong to you and no one.

The young are
not immune
to bleeding

They are not
immortal

just naive
and very short sighted
it comes with being
sucker punched by life
over and over again
until they realize
that the bleeding
doesn't last forever
and is only mildly painful

to make this point...

Here I am again
in the thrush of
falling apart again
I don't want to leave
my body another time
It's so cold over there
the chains heavier
and seldom unseen
everyone pretends in freedom
but all of them scared
they see
their eyes
see the horror
they feel the doom
there we are all encumbered
Please I don't want to go there again
Please
Not again

Watch me
See how
graceful I am
I make no mistakes
under your watchful eye
I am gilded perfection

just me and my righteousness
righting all the wrongs
while you watch
Me and the right moves

just don't take your
eyes off of me
or I become part of this massive
presence in the cosmos
doing soulfully wanton
and naughty things
shed light on me
and I become this
perfect
little
freak

Truth comes in waves.
Like the rhythm
of the ocean.
We were born there
in its womb.
And We are at the mercy
of the moon.


It’s hard to tell the truth
When you don’t recall
Being immortal.
When you’ve forgotten
Your own beauty.
The song that
could ultimately save you.

So we come here,
Lost limping sirens.
Mouthing lies
In falsetto memories.
Breaking bread with comfort.
But Leaving the dead to linger
upon a truthless shore.

"I'm building a cult around Your Figure" -Charles Michael Parks, jr.

Go ahead
You are perfect.
For I am edible enough
to break you with
my tongue.
I will
stain you with
tannins
to color your face
with my stink.
For I am as wanton
as an open sky.
Bring me
your sun-lit kisses
between this
black berry bush
deliver me
and make me endless...

Winter's Fingers
tickles me and
I cuddle up to the
moon with a
man who has magic
on his skin
the chill of winter
sometimes stings but
there is nothing like
warm flesh on warm flesh...

One day I'll make
this huge breakthrough

then

You will know me by
the big head I'd carry
until I'm tired
of holding all
that sack of
proud nothingness on
my nimble funny
looking shoulders

A girl pretending
grandiose possibilities
who just grows
into this lame thing

God does not see

afterall- She invokes

Her way thru

the womb of space

like it was Her own

She is creation itself

for we were

born in Her own image

Some more dark

than others

but female nonetheless

soft and fluid

Even our male counterparts

were here as female

once upon a time ago

Some choosing to

whine about this present state

grabbing females like

possessions and wanting to

connect with Her again

the little man with the dainty hands

says, nothing stellar and is

deciding how to corrupt you

Maybe if we all
took one deep
collective breath
we could step off
this mad
merry-go-round
into a world
where
thoughtfulness
reigns
and nature is divine
then we could teach
our children the
slow ways of walking
mindfully on this land...

No one has skeletons
in their closets anymore
we've disclosed too much of
our ***** bones

Now we are left with
nothing but this flesh
without the things that
make us ugly and
keep us upright

No shadows or dark secrets
to keep us awake at night
Nothing to process or to aspire to

No more dreams but the wicked
fodder of a life lived in conformity
and
on the surface

We lived sullen in
awkward decadence.
Hoarding strange
little monuments. and
Odes to us.
Enough to choke on it.
The black soot of
sacrificial trees.
I saw them
burning mid-suicide.
Martyrs with wooden hearts.
at least they used them.
Unlike us
we had accidental brains
and drooled over them.
the cold blooded arrogance
Not really noble yet
we stay
sleeping like the
greed in prodigied monks
Wake me up when the
bees grow heavy
with honey again.
pinch me when we
collectively awake.

Immortalize me.
Take all of me into you.
And let me be there
In your skin.
Imagine me
Filling up your lungs.
Seeing thru your eyes.
Speaking from your mouth.
Poet, then write me a poem
About eternity.
Write me a poem about me.

I got bit yesterday
You said I taste
metal sweet upon
your lips

So I returned the favor
and sought you out
with the lashing
of my tongue

taking the edible
bits of you
my holy sacrament

There is a stillness which exists
between every word and silence
Within that space of the slightest
breath may you find Love.
For it is in the house of love
which heals you.
It is in the unbroken strings of love
that is forgiveness driving us closer
together more than any burden carried in
your heart and on your back.
For every tear you shed may you enter
the soul silently to open and
let in the presence of peace to guide you.
Seek Forgiveness. Seek Service. Seek Unseen,

Sending waves of healing energy to all.
In this, lies the sacredness of what  
Has ever been forgotten.

And so it is.

Days like these
I am the fool
who remembers you

Like a phantom wind
you come from nowhere
to haunt me

This futile struggle
I get caught in

This mess of me
gets stuck

I am nothing
but the rain singing its
sad and heavy song

I wear my red star
like a good capitalist
Rock star status
check
Going to the grave
as shallow as I am
check
Just another american
leaving my carbon foot
print a mystery unbeknownst
to me and to the flat earthers
men who say they swore
Jesus went and
came already again
but I'm here to tell you
that my red star
will rock your world
and I am too old for this
so the fake people
can just kiss my
red star...

That love poem you
are writing for your lover
is really you
writing to yourself