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You came around
like a insect
searching for pollen
you took me away,

It hit me
like a swarm of wasps
stinging me one,
by one

******* inside
your dark nest
full of emptiness

I know you
were the one
who started it

And I am
the one who
will make it
*end
be direct
  direct me


have I not,
    but cannot more
                      be been strong for you,
            so I teach you to teach the power
of strength by daring to ask



ask me
   i will create anything it is
in my power
   to create for you
i will break anything for you
that needs to be broken

old poet old brok-en asking that you keep on
asking, I need nothing broke, busted but still needing you,
needing you whole for me to be whole,
from that hole of dark, we share different sides,
I need you creating
you anew


al green said
  no one told us about the sorrow
no one told me about today
no one told me about tomorrow    

if asking were my strength
  this deadly blind balance
would not be my act

but it is that you arrived here to survive here,
the balance is blind, but you are not,
you knew sorrow was a possible.
you want easy, I'll give you easy,
ask yourself above all,
what's next that
I want


answering
   l o v e...
i can answer
i can answer

*the old poet asks,
why is it this poem world always comes around to that
old tirade, that four letter word...the one you ask,
when is it
my turn, and I answer you twice,
for you asked and answered twice,
I do love you,
I do love you,
exactly as you are,
invisible but oh so visible to us all,
and that is why you must ask for
more, evermore,
never ceasing, believing this more
is due, due to you
It is so shameful how we spend life
Asleep at the wheel
Making less than a conscious attempt
To break free from our situation.

The day you left this Earth
Your exceptional and passionate life was taken
I heard your heart hit the floor
And I look up to the sky
Expecting to see you soaring.

You lived so loudly
And left me star struck.
So what is it supposed to feel like
When you are gone?
Even now, I will pass something
Do a certain activity
Hear a certain song, a phrase
And think about you.

Has it been five months already?
That's almost half a year
And for some reason, that kills me.
Maybe I've been stuck in September
Or somewhat comatose in my own skin.
The shell I've been dying to shed for just about forever.

Have you heard my screams?
The day I got the call
The day I passed out
The endless days of panic attacks
Stuck between those foreboding cycles
Of endless days and sleepless nights.

I do not expect you to be watching over me.
You should be guarding
Your siblings
Your girlfriend
Your parents.
I hope you brought the party to heaven
And God is lucky to have you as his guest.

Sometimes, I still hear your laugh
See your smile
And I am ever so grateful that
I was lucky enough to know you
And I will keep your memory alive
By really living
And not just being on standby.
Temporary pain?
Thoughts caress a suicidal mind
Spinning and tripping
Spinning and falling
Losing it.
And you are trying to tell me
This goes away?

Running the risk of sounding pessimistic
I question that idea.
Stuck between evasion and circumstance
Cornered in the darkest place
Eerier than you ever imagined
More vile than you ever dreamed.

So weep, dear child
Sob.
Then they whisper in your ear
Everything will get better.
How dare they?

You mention thoughts of death
Of self-inflicted ******
And they pierce you like a weapon.
Telling you its selfish
And that this will come to an end.

In my opinion,
Life's payoff is not a reason to stay alive.
If you expect the pain to end
And to have joy brought back to you
You will be disappointed.
The rationale for continuing to move
Is that if you're here, I believe,
There is a reason.
You want to discover that
And you will
As long as you keep breathing.
CRY
Who would cry for the little boy
Lost and all alone

Who would cry for the little boy
Abandoned without is own

Who would cry for the little boy
He cried himself to sleep

Who would cry for the little boy
Who will never have a keep

Who would cry for the little boy
Who walked in burning sun

Who would cry for the little boy
The boy inside the man

Who would cry for the little boy
Who knew well health and pain

Who would cry for the little boy
who died and died again

Who would cry for the little boy
A good boy he tried to be

Who would cry for the little boy
Who cries inside of me

Who will cry for u
Antwone fisher
Ghetto dreamz
Chattered dreamz
Frustration without end
Hope lost without bound
Crying endlessly
Believe and disbelieve
Service in curiosity

Trusting in u
Regret in betrayal
Happy hour
Fulfillment beyond bounds
Light deemed
Stars lost in the sky
Dreamz fade
for my tattoo girl

am admitting,
revealing, believing, expecting,
asking direct,
no inferring, no discerning,
needs answers,
need *more,

need art in my life
need teach in my life,
need teach me
how
what
to ask for more,

when get one sweet answer,
get two new quests,
get two new queries,
need you to teach me
how to ask, how to never be satisfy,
anything else would be madness
See  please, if you have not yet,
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/594328/this-filled-a-need-i-had-no-name-for/
                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

got myself in trouble,
found me a problem
all of my own making/creating,
all my own to solve,
all by my lonesome

put/found myself
in a room with no exit at all,
only bookshelves upon the wall


with bookshelves full of
great poets who when they wrote,
they filled a need that had no name

said to myself,
how am I going to
get out of here,
or
find a space for me on that bookshelf?
or both?

this new standard, self-imposed,
discovering, exposing, sensing,
filling the aches and hopes
with a new satisfaction

it occurs me this is the precise atomic second
that if, can place the keystone,
then, can build the edifice,
floor by floor,
room by room,
poem by poem

so, trapped in this electronic/platonic youthful room,
a room with too many words,
but none mine,
my problem begins

so I have begun to solve my own one-problem,
alpha bet, word, line, stanza, poem,
one at a time

and never post what never meets the highest
standard of mine own creation,
fulfill
*the need you did not know needs filling
I have drowned in the geyser up, the waterfall down of too many poems.  I have decided to post less, but hopefully better.  I will read more but say less.  
I will be among those anonymous reads,
of whom, oft wondered,
who are you, you, who read and move on
with a nary a moment to comment or like, or dislike?
Look for my messages tho, for via stealth technology, I will be present here.

To write special, and leave special on the table, my goal now.
From here on, I write for me and to the highest standard, expecting to fail, hoping to succeed.
Knowing this:
I define success when I put the pen down,
having left breath ,tears, a poet's and a child's dream, and sweet perfume
as the residue.  Those of you, the readers, who come along, treasured but fewer, share my meal and leave the table satisfied and tell me too,
that you too write to me,
you will fill a need that we did not know needed filling,
One poem at a time.



*“Get yourself in trouble. If you get yourself in trouble, you don't have the answers. And if you don't have the answers, your solution will more likely be personal because no one else's solutions will seem appropriate. You'll have to come up with your own.”

"society is much too problem-solving oriented. It is far more interesting to [participate in] ‘problem creation’ … You know, ask yourself an interesting enough question and your attempt to find a tailor-made solution to that question will push you to a place where, pretty soon, you’ll find yourself all by your lonesome — which I think is a more interesting place to be."*

― Chuck Close*
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