I’m looking at you-
Looking-looking-not.

I’m pretending I wasn’t staring-
Now I’m looking-looking-caught.

From his tiny place
He steps into a larger space.

Tells his face
He finds it nice
The blinding slice!

In that luminous relief
Of smoked glass and concrete
Is confirmed his belief

Freedom is sweet

Even an illusory one!

Before he’s back to the night
He must bite as much of it.

Must harvest to the full that walled flight
Store every bit of it

And never let that brief dreamy light

Go out of sight.

I furtively glance at the wholesome flesh

afraid in case
she catches me stealing
her precious things.

There was so much bare
it seemed unfair
to have to content with one stare

With so much bare
no reason to see elsewhere
and deny my pleasure immense
at her expense

Of me
she gets little to see

As for my crotch

*it is no top-notch!

the kissing dogs are gone, sleeping long, chasing fancy in their fog

curious, a girl with a pocket of amaranth

always fresh rain on her lapel and neck

and eyes that become fixed and smaller in pleasure

an image that remains un-graven in memory, a mystery still,

like a candle stolen from a windowsill

sitting at a bar, drinking ***** with lime

seeing people i know, yet alone in rhyme

"this is how it’s going to be", said the picture of j. edgar hoover

"i’m burning you, feeding the furnace in your belly.

'you'll meet the devil if you haven't already'”, said the *****

"it will all sour, everything. get a taste and die

knowing one heaven”, said the lime

"you want to melt. the heat of your desperation touches me. you want to become a lone liquid and disperse into the clouds.

you think you can travel the world that way, maybe be tossed around

in the clear tide near fiji. but you won’t, look at me”,

said the ice in the glass.

If you
must squander potential,
squander only that of your own;
sacrifice not
the potential of others:
they, be the harbingers of Doom.

If you
should choose
to throw your Dreams away,
do not
make those
around you do the same!

They,
who would seek
to defile, corrupt,
extinguish,
shatter and destroy
the potential of their
fellow Beings,
deserve not
this Holy blessing
to be alive and breathing,
and bearing witness
to this sacred, beautiful,
wondrous illusion;

this physical and spiritual
transient ephemera;

this sentient, inanimate,
scientific, counter-intuitive
fledgling, fleeting Dream
that we, over the years,
come to recognize
as Life.

If one may wonder what kind of guy is me
What’s my real face from my faces of poetry
Am I what I write generous and ideal bound
As in real life as in my poems I am found.

Now to tell you the truth put speculations to rest
Am not exactly as I make out not that much honest
My writes bear my yearning for what I aspire to be
But I could not and that regret finds vent in poetry.

Two brothers lazy bones were known far and wide
Devoted devils they stuck together on each other’s side
As you can guess on those idle souls life wasn’t kind
Without work they didn’t earn though they didn’t mind.

Still they managed to survive God played here his hand
The duo had a roof over head and some ancestral land
They were happy to just laze out with barely minimal meal
Spend their times at fireside with two staunch idlers’ zeal.

In fact even such rituals as bathing and nature’s call
Found them badly wanting they detested moving at all
They disliked going out of house hardly ever took a ride
Enamored of their laziness in it they preferred to hide.

The two brothers were often coaxed to go for a movie show
Couldn’t dress up never made it their limbs moved so slow
Yet they weren’t bothered for life’s joys remaining undone
Thoroughly enjoyed their laziness it held for them all the fun.

Not one good deed they ever did not once a noble act
Enslaved as they were in idleness tied to its devilish pact
None ever came to the aid of them none they ever did help
In notorious no work they stuck together keeping only to themselves.

Till one day came an ugly turn a fire broke out in their house
When all else left except them even the cellar’s mouse
In their sleep as they sensed the heat the one asked the other

My back is burning what to do please tell me kindly brother.

Though surrounded them the fire the two brothers didn’t budge a bit
Undeterred by the looming peril they kept lying in the searing heat
How do I know the other answered with eyes still not opened wide

*Go back to your sleep if it’s too hot move your back to the other side.

when i see the youthful faces
i feel a bitter regret
curse how time crazily races
rue things for which i'm late.

my youth now seems wasn't there
or was just a fleeting span
fate dealt me a blow unfair
made me too fast old man.

if only the years did roll back
if time travel wasn't a fancy
if only was laid back the past track
i would've loved to be twenty.

why it's such i didn't care
let twenty fly too fast past me
why that year if was very much there
i didn't lock it to be forever twenty.

twenty at twenty seemed absurd an age
a fabulous but unreal mirage
it was the year i passed out college
twenty did i ever have that age.

twenty when came too fast it went
survives in the now twenty's face
for me no year an imagined moment
i curse how years quickly race.

Old rototiller in the leaky shed
a working tool for the old homestead
mismatch parts of blue and red
it ain't pretty, but it keeps me fed

cutting up wood before the winter storm
preparations before snow clouds form
it might not seem like "the norm"
it ain't pretty, but it keeps me warm

rusty double barrel on the rack
a whole lot of ammo in a stack
to defend in case of attack
it ain't pretty, but it's got my back

Birds of a feather fly peacefully together
our wings are like leather, we're doomed forever