In the wee hour of morn I find myself
beginning to 'break'
Mind feverishly trying to escape the
chain of flesh , as if sanity were being
tested , creativity divested
Seven notes are typically not enough , twenty six
symbols in myriad groupings , white
noise confusion , in control illusions
A dump truck filled with crush and run -
dripping water on a lonesome road
Crumbling walls laden with Block Mason -
indiscretions vying for a sin removing -
coat of cheap paint
A telephone pole supported by wiring swinging
in midair , drunk on depression pills catching
my gaze in cheap artwork , narcoleptic days
Clabbered milk thrown to the hogs , nightmare
K-9 dogs unable to be explained
My friend the wind at the window with no one to play
Bright eyes refuse to focus when the child forgets their way

Rabbit tobacco is for smoking -
like Hereford bulls are for riding
Politicians stick to their promises -
like cheap paint on 'weathered wood siding*'

I go back to that place

Through the green door
Enter the red brick house

Mikhu is still the little fairy
My eyes look for
And still my shyness
Forces me to look away
In her mother's presence

In the faraway attic
She furtively cooks me a meal
We make love
That brush our skin faintly

When I come out
She stands at the green door

Then upon the here
She is no more

I set freedom
For the people of the world
To understand what really happen
When you don't have freedom
Without eating and drinking to fill
Your belly.

Helping others is an achievement
To be able to let others be free
That is Wrong from being stupid
Like doing things you hate to do
And feel uncomfortable.

Freedom is ready for everybody in the
Universe today
To felt an holy spirit to have freedom
God is I am who I am
And I believe what god say.

If freedom is everywhere
God is everywhere in the universe
Freedom is saving the world
Saving the world is freedom
So let there be freedom today and
Tomorrow.

               By K-mari ©2016

I am the black rose,
The exotic kind,
The kind that is a beautiful mystery.
The type that stands out on its own,
Because its rare.

I am the black rose,
It reminds me of the thrilling mysteries of the night,
Like the secret behind the stars;
For I am a mystery to begin with,
I am a beautiful, rare, exotic black rose.

                        Jonesy 2016©