and from this pain
love will grow.

She is the storm
That blows your mind
Moving  back and forth
With thunderstorm that massage your weary body
And lightning that shines your dreams

She comes with noise
Not to scare you
But sound you can dance to
Glittering floors swept by wind

She's not just any storm
But thunderstorm when you need sound
Lighting when you in darkness
Wind to blow away all your ***** laundry

She is the storm
Moving back and forth

-Lakhana Mnyani

I haven’t touched you in 3 years
Because I couldn’t handle the flames that scorched my skin.
But here you are,
Curled up against my body,
Hands running through your hair
And legs intertwined.

I don’t feel it anymore
That raging inferno that hovered just under your skin,
Threatening to engulf my entire being.
There are glowing embers now,
Nevertheless my hands shake
As they brush trails down your arms
And I think:

What I would have done
What I would have given
To be like this with you
One year ago.

But that’s over now.
You lost your gold
And gave away your sapphires

You’ve finally returned to the house that belonged to you for 3 years,
But discovered the hearth to be empty.

Times past, our driving word was ‘could’
As in we could do this or that
To help the world, to do some good

Then, strong ideas asked if we would
Let them then, step up to bat                  
Respect was asked, when we used ‘could’

That this meant work, we understood
And some attempts fell fairly flat
Yet help we did, and did some good

That fashion’s out, replaced by ‘should’
Imperative, we’re spoken ‘at’
Time’s passed when arguments have ‘could’

One must comply, it’s understood
By those who dictate online chat
Now ‘only we’, can do some good

And half the people see falsehood
When wrapped in hate, ideas are spat
It’s hard to see this do much good
Perhaps we should re-visit ‘could’


Cliff Green 2017

the sun rises
above me:

a display of vibrance;
colors red,
pink,
and orange
sink into the sky,
pouring into it
a new day

my world
changes before me,
from one of darkness
into a world
spilling with light

a performance --
a transformation --
fleeting, yet
always
a humbling experience;
one as wondrous
as it is
consistent


the sun rises
above me,

and

honestly?
I feel irritated
that it had to come up
at all


I think if heaven is real,
then undoubtedly,
mine
would be our night
if it never had to end.

or,
it could be
any night.
honestly,
it's anywhere with you.


fruitless?

maybe,
if it were lust
calling me to you

it's like,
I could care less
about the fruit -
I just wanna be with the tree
they grow from,
maaan

How many domains can one god have before he is daring too close to omnipotent

Curiosity, Risk, Luck, Failure,

How many names must one have before they are a god?
Adonai

How many titles?

Leader
Lover
Father
Mother

I am curious
I am the god of curious

I am so much want, greedy, so selfish.
I am the god of human

I am so human
Show me, god...

My friend Billy stated unapologetically over earl grey tea and orange zest scones that the premise of his all-time favorite novel consisted of a man having *** with a goat.
With some resistance, and perhaps skepticism, I asked him, “Why?”
“Because the world would be incredibly ******* dull if we all just wrote about humans containing stardust.”
“Well, we are all technically…”
“I understand that. We are also full of water and feces, animated toilet bowls if you will, but I doubt that would flow exceptionally well from my calligraphy pen onto a textured piece of paper. Humans are often no more than a messy and selfish group of animals, governed by the illusion of creativity, law, and morality.”
“Is that why it was your favorite novel?”
“No, I liked it because it was ******* hysterical.”