Do not tell me not to talk so much,

while you sit there in your stoic, vague, unreadable, silence......

Playing your life-like a poker game,

looking for “tells” in everyone,

feeling lucky,

deeming us out here as damaged,

missing,

broken,

Constantly awaiting my next **** up.

That **** up that you know is going to happen.

Coldly, methodically critiquing my every move,

painting me incapable of producing a life worth living.

How clever you think you are, to not laugh at my jokes

or not carry on conversation unless you deem it worthy.

You do all of this to not give up your “tell”.

Not let anyone into your world.



Do not tell me to not flail my hands when I talk,

because you are not as excited about your life as I am.

In fact do not think you have authority to deem anything I do as right or wrong.

You do not have that luxury.

If and until you learn to love yourself

your ego will continually feed itself by debasing,  

feeling the need to change everyone around you.

How tiring it must be to sit in judgment of me,

picking apart my existence.  

What goes on in your narcissistic mind, that makes you not accept me as I am?

Why is my freedom less important than your picture of how I should be?



Although, not intentionally, from your dysfunctional life,

you have produced a seeker of the truth.

And Love was the stimulus.

The love that I never saw.

I learned to love myself.......unconditionally.

But where did that enlightenment come from?

It came from Love itself.

Tapped me on the shoulder,

wrapped its arms around me,

and led me to the light of truth.

You will turn around one day and look for me,

I will be gone.

You will have no one to share the rest of your life with.

This short, meaningful, time we have on this earth,

the one you ****** with and lost.......

There will be no one willing to play your poker game,

and you will have to die alone.



I believed you,

I looked at myself through your eyes

and I saw the misfit that you believed I was,

and I bought it.

After all, you are the one from whom I was to learn life.

But I did not get the education I deserved.

I was formed out of your mind,

from a mistake you made.

And I was made to believe that I too was a mistake.

Because you couldn't keep your **** in your pants.

I am the product of a hot August, unairconditioned night of sweaty lust.....and it was probably my Mother's manipulative doing.

She needed to keep you around, so why not another kid to suckle her *** and make you go out and make more money.

Was I planned, did you look into my Mother's eyes and lovingly say, let's make a baby?

I think not.

You ****** up.



Enter the rearing of a mistake.

****, you will never know just how incredible I am, you will never see me as I am, you will never see anyone as they truly are.

You are so brainwashed with you prejudice, playing your poker game, looking for your “tell”.........

Oh to hear our pens together
scratching out dreams
on Italian linen paper,
while espressos cool
in the noonday breeze.
Wiping creme from your wind burned lips,  my toes find your cycling socks
and our eyes meet as if to ask.....
let's stay another day in Toscan....
Rome can wait.

My dear friend was a day
older today
with the rising sun.

We all gathered 'round
to celebrate
and to find some fun.

The presents were grand
we sang him the song
that is always sung

I could see in his smile
that his battle
was finally won.

From the light of the candles
flickered the truth
I saw the years in his eyes

but not the years of age,
there was something more
eons of something wise

free of his past,
freedom at last
no verses were left unsung

I could see in his smile
that his battle
was finally won

Surrender now,
surrender to
what was falsely
taught to you

incessant myths
that once abound
are now to him
but just a sound

I can rest in the knowing,
his future is clear
now that he's found his light

just as sure as the night
follows the day,
and day follows the night

I only hope
he knows that his journey
has just begun

I hear in his laughter
the joyous song
of the enlightened one

and his pain is naught
but the sound
of a distant drum

and I see in his smile
that his battle
is finally won.