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He said that he had a dream..

But living was getting to be awfully heavy
And constantly on guard’s not really alive
But we were all too busy going nowhere,
Knowing here's where we've got to stay,
Here where the earth, the air and water is
Our species gets one chance to find its way.

Mind the fallen, pray to god
That your burden not outweigh the sod;
Who said we've got to eke out the bare years
When yesteryear's one more forgotten day,
One chance to fail or miss your aim,
Watching one by one, as they each betrayed.

Never mind the slaughter and the bleeding,
The way it's rigged so we can never win-
Shots ringing out, as he grabs that railing
Falling on stony ground, he’s falling again,
Always the same sad story repeating,
His eyes grow fixed, and still we keep on calling
Him..
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon,
From drops of peridot scattered at sea,
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

His father not caring where or with whom,
Or from what rare ocean his being might be-
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon.

He learnt his letters from a dark winged loon
Who flew where the mountains caress the trees,
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

His speech was a garble of false and truth,
Whistling like a hollow piped reed,
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon.

His eyes a contagion of waters blue
And brackish trunks of underwater trees
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.

His normal voice wove a threadless tune,
Brought close the mermaids, hungry to feed;
He stole his eyes from a milk-glass moon,
Hidden beneath a moon-shadowed ruin.
(Villanelle form)
Heterodyning, between word and thought-
Entraining the brain;
The voice dictating,
The fingers scrabbling.

I am only the burnt toast
Of this universe,
That has a craving
To recognize itself
Through temporal eyes.
Nighttime clouds must veil the stars,
As we must veil our thoughts

And winter's clouds hide winter gales,
Until the sunshine's brought

And spindly branch of broken trees
Must scratch the shadowed days;

Until the spring arrives in wind,
When green uncovers May.
Hide in plain sight
Hide the hole within your soul,
Hide your dark blots all away
And run away that you shall live;
And live to run another day.

Hide in dark and hide in light,
Hide your life's continual blight-
Hide from truths so they won't find
The blackest hole of all; your mind

Hide in plain sight
Hide the hole within your soul,
Hide your dark blots all away
And run away that you shall live;
And live to run another day.

Hide the brilliance of your soul,
Hide it deep, hide it well-
Hope they won't think to look there
Stand watch to guard it, if you dare

Hide in plain sight
Hide the hole within your soul,
Hide your dark blots all away
And run away that you shall live;
And live to run another day.

Hide in hell worlds of the mind,
Hide in spells they'll never find-
Don't let them own your living soul
Much better far, to live in holes.
His beautiful complexity is difficult,
Confuses me; my neurotic inner child
Wants to be beaten or serenaded,
It doesn't understand many-layered things;
His whispered confidences, less alienating
Than others, made me trust too soon,
And his atoms, more colorful than
His brothers painted-on coats.
My being turns all around his center;
My wheels to his drum,
My arc to his sun,
Laughter when he's coming,
Cries when he's gone-
Till I'm reduced-
Subtracted-
Done.
Beware; I'll break your heart, she said
If you ever turn aside
Or break your ways from mine.

He gave his word and hand,
He took her to the steeple;
A simple golden band

Was all that bound his world with hers.
They lived as man and wife,
Their inner world unquiet.

The love a lie, for she craved gold,
A status-seeker to the end-
Her heart stayed cold.

He left her for a warmer one,
Whose eyes held truth for all her days;
Not cold, this one more like the sun.

Beside an angry sea,
In rage, she met the softer one
And told, his love's for me.

She threw the ring out over the waves,
She cursed the promise he had made
And then she seized the other's hand-

I promised then, to break his heart
She said, and dragged her over the cliff
Below, where the waters broke apart.

On rocks they found them, side by side
On one's face tears; the other's dried-
For one still lived, while one had died.

Who lived or died, nobody knows,
He took them both back home with him
And he was never seen again.

They say if you pass by at night,
You'll hear a strange laugh, then a cry;
For one was darkness, one was light.

For life is death, without our love,
And death is long, though ill or well-
But peace is granted seldom, there.
Title taken from quote by
Michelangelo Buonarroti

"His hope is treacherous only whose love dies
With beauty, which is varying every hour;
But, in chaste hearts uninfluenced by the power
Of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower,
That breathes on earth the air of paradise."
I went to visit a cousin of mine
Who breaks beer bottles on Sunset and Vine;
He turns on the gas, in abandoned homes,
Says if they cared for them, why'd they roam?

Hock the stars and ration the sun;
Bleed the earth till it comes undone,
Sell everything that's not nailed down:
What we're looking for can't be found.

I was walking down some dead-end road
Found where someone had dumped a load
Of brand new shoes; still in their box;
You get paid now, to rob your own shop.

Let's sell the world to the highest bidder,
No one cares if you're a quitter;
We'll blow it all up, as we step on that rocket,
Try to find a space, out of God's pocket.

Rebel-mankind will never get in line,
Always thinks he's got lots more time;
If he saw that mushroom cloud go up-
He'd sell one-way tickets, till it blew up.

Hock the stars and ration the sun;
Bleed the earth till it comes undone,
Sell everything that's not nailed down:
What we're looking for can't be found.
Hold onto the sea
Turn the edges square
Pull the wrinkled waves
To smooth the motion there

Placate the burning sun
Mist it with a spray
Release it's tension'd torque
As it accosts the day

Soothe my tattered heart
On it's loom of woe
Blooming out the sails
To make the stall let go

Sea owns not the waves
Sun owns not the burn
Ships cannot be saved
For love is never earned
When someone you loved very much dies, strange things
Start to happen to you, that you don't notice right away:
The hologram that their influence built around you
Turns inside-out; the bulk of it shrinks down
Into one of those super-dense singularities.
Their belongings start to feel impersonal and oddly distant;
Reminiscent of a strangers bags, sitting packed for the departure.
All the love and caring is siphoned out
When the owner leaves existence behind:
The void they left fills with a surreal grace, when viewed
From the novelty of their absence. A breathtaking coldness
Accompanies this second ownerless half-life:
Touching them, your own fingers are burned, frostbitten
Eventually dead to external stimuli.
The rigor travels inward from the extremities,
Making a slow ascent toward the heart,
Crystallizing everything along the way,
Melding it all into lovely, singular geometries
As one cell after another is enveloped.
Until the central core is an unmoving artifact
In the arctic waste, but unable to die.
A frozen cryosurgical intervention of stained glass
Ruby veins, suspended in frozen calciferous walls.
Other people do not notice the changes or see
Not unless you touch them-
Accidentally brushing up against you,
They feel then the penetrating cold,
Radiating outward in bitter waves.
Drawing their clothing more tightly about them,
They search for the taletale signatures of frost,
Wondering if winter came early this year.
A dream revealed your eyes to me,
And love once caged is now set free.

I must love you, if love I must;
For who heaven's angels dare mistrust?

A whisper in my ear was all,
My heartbeat slowed down to a crawl.

With love, my soul is now more me,
And love once caged is soon set free.

I must love you, if love I must;
For who heaven's angels dare mistrust?

My eyes uncovered of their caul,
My heartbeat slowed unto a crawl

I prayed together we will be,
And love once caged will be set free.

I must love only you; I must,
For who heaven's angels dare mistrust?

The birds from tree to tree do call:
My heartbeat has grown wide and tall.
The dust of their coming and going
Sifts down through the years,
Their gravity once knotted fabric to flesh;
Even though they're near,
Just the ashes, are all can impress.

Since time snapped in two between their fingers,
They haven't aged much, except to uncoil,
Unwind branching strands;
Under satin recoil
Beneath brass sheaths, the body banal.

We walk upon the faces of kings, and sleep
High, on the ruined backs of strangers;
All unknowing, how the dust gets laid,
Unaware of the danger-
Every generation becomes the new day.
Hurry scurry, wrinkle your nose,
Harem scarem, wiggle your toes;
For each thing's connected to every other-
The Earth is everyone's old grandmother.

Bubble bubble, stir in some trouble,
Soon the *** is bound to be double;
And I've a twin who lives in the mirror-
She rushes to meet me when I come near.
Oh cellar-door;
Such raised beauty rarely spoken;
You are the praise
That holds our gaze.

Oh cellar-door,
You will always be there;
When all the other
Word towers get razed.
Cellar door is supposed to be one of the most beautiful
phrases in the English language.
I am love's Savant
Of perilous divining;
No simpering hierophant,
Of the desperately climbing.

For love arrives naked,
Sans cloak or cloche,
While love's finger beckons,
For me to come close.

I'm privy to his prophecy;
To the keyholes I tiptoe,
Where I see the aristocracy-
In flagrante delicto.

As his scribe, I'm resigned
To write impassioned words;
Still, desires will not rewind-
Even though they be absurd.
I am the soul of gods own joy:
He clothed me tenderly, in flesh;
Gave the island satellite as home
Where sense and impression mesh.
From the life of my days he is weaving
Indestructible record of mind
The coin of the realm is eternal:
No fragment of me left behind.
I and Me own different planes within the skull;
I settled in the frontal lobes
Where I can usually vote aye or nay, as it strikes my fancy
Controlling the higher thought, the calculations,
Schedules and contingency plans.

Me dwells deeper, inside the ancient brain;
The place of reptiles, receptacle of instincts
While I dream of ice cream sodas, ***, and journeys,
Me might dream of large snakes, have nightly dreams
Of terror, mass exterminations and die-outs,
Experimental lobotomies and spherical supernovas.

Me worships planetary deities and various idols of glazed stone.
I gave up dominance to Me, who can hijack My main processes
When confronted with extreme danger or duress,
In order to have the majority of say the rest of the time.

I and Me get along well mainly because
We are never occupying the same place for long,
Sort of a marriage of convenience;
All my logical reasoning can't turn Me aside
Once her wire gets tripped.
So I spend a lot of time doing damage control-
And hopefully, Me stays asleep.
I break precarious, upon your precious word:
The voiceless reason, dying goes unheard,
My heedless passions lying yet unfurled;
My thoughts, in none of yours paralleled-
I break; I break precarious, at one word.
I'd already forgotten your name
But it wasn't like I planned it,
And after a moment, it came back-
Like a vague memory, of a long
Uncomfortable fever,
Being out of your head for a few days,
Or a lingering cough of several weeks.

It will always be there buried,
My sins never really forgiven,
My confusion unanswered;
The viral storm you took me over with
Just a bad dream, one of many nightmares.

Living well doesn't erase it,
And self respect doesn't heal it-
Even if I still had any of that left.

You are only the thorn I pricked myself with
Before the hundred-years sleep
Of numberless, uneasy dreams.
if a bird just can't sing the Blues
what can you do?
buy him some lessons
with a mezzo-soprano,
or lower his beak
to an alto contralto?
take him to doctors;
buy him a shrink
but don't give him time
to just sit and think?
buy him a *****,
and a liter of Beam-
then tell him that things
are not what they seem;
give him good food
and lots of attention;
then rent him out
to the woodpecker's convention.

(and if all else fail,
he can guard your corn
and play his nostrils
like an old French horn)
If at first I had seen you as a still-life
Of passing interest, in one of those restaurants
With heightened pretensions of the eclectic: culture in a can
You would have remained void of deepness, to me:
A face half-hidden behind a menu, buzzing neon lights behind your head
Faintly visible enigmatic eyes, above the hors-d'oeuvres list
Some inaudible small talk with another person,
A casual tabloid easily forgotten.

If I had noticed you while you were working
You would have seemed another skilled contractor or employee;
The answer key to the solution I was seeking, though I might have paused
Long enough to suppose you wise, well educated: noble
In the struggle, perhaps wondered if you were always this serious
Even if not on someone's time-clock or your own pay roll
Maybe I would have thought you had a quizzical expression, or questioned
If I had imagined that wariness which seemed to hide behind an easy smile.

Instead, you've drawn me closer in, only toward you-
Pulled me in with no touch, not a glance, nor hushed voice
With only your words, your wit and keen intuition, against which  
I've no sort of defense, no sophisticated angle of attack
And words can promise all, or nothing; or simply imply a supposed future
Towards which we might have been running backwards
All this time, while caught up in thinking that eventually
We would be arriving at some place completely different.
If alleys were blind,
If you could drive
me anywhere
near insanity's brink;
Or if time could march,
and the moon whisper
it's forgotten lines
in blue octopus ink.

If scarce winds could dance,
where soft rains kiss,
or the brave stars wink.
If my neurons were,
in that thinking circus
of blown-fuse circuits,
the weakest link.

If man is a parasite
***** blood from earth,
grieves igneous oceans
that once gave birth;

If venial sin is always the lesser,
and time leaves us dead in the dust,
I'm bound to make you my
secret confessor,
for time never sleeps
in your rust.
http://www.youtube.com/user/xishian?feature=mhum#p/f/77/E3XI_2wrG4I
If someday on a stone you read
My name, by a dying flower
Please find one memory to cherish
Some hope, for a dreadful hour.

Wreathe it in an ivy circlet,
With the wisp of a silky ribbon;
We'll make of the bare bones of love
A feast, whether taken or given.
if some electric joy could paint us
here in the vivid shards of wasted glass,
or create a beauty that's never been drunk
we'd question our surreal imaginations,
drugged by passion's symbolic chisel;
the blue aesthetic of an angel's dust,
of abstract life more sensed than performed;
the psychedelic absurdities in bolder strokes:
I'd sing your **** genius sculpted through every world.
A prayer is just a cry of becoming human
A cry is just a scream
Of a frightening belief.
And how do we remember how to speak in tongues,
And to flow through moving tunnels
While molding the body to fit something else-
A pattern not yet seen?

Being silent doesn't stop
Others from knowing your unquiet thoughts;
We are more alike
Than we will ever be different.
Just save the last breath for god,
Who pardons all your conscious confusion.

That last, most brilliant light you'll never see
Is only a brain being consumed
By the entrophy of existence.

The stars are well-lit cemeteries
Of illumined souls, that went forgotten once
In the unevenness between the boundaries
Of time, space and heaven.
If time were a star, lived only in your eyes
I'd feign uncertainty, before your bright surprise;
And if nights were gifts, nobody could return,
I'd pray to wake, upon your star that burn..
I had two rats, to fill my days
Through spines of books and bed clothes
They chewed their lazy way
And when they saw you, froze

Through spines of books and bed clothes
Released out of their cage
And when they saw you, froze
For chewing was their rage

Released out of their cage
And when they saw you, froze
For chewing was their rage
Their pile of ***** grows

And when they saw you, froze
They lurked behind the dresser
Their pile of ***** grows
The cage mess is the lesser

They lurked behind the dresser
They chewed their lazy way
The cage mess is the lesser
I had two rats, to fill my days
I used to have two furry friends who meant everything to me
A mechanic on a days trip from Brazil
Ran down a parrot on the crest of a hill
The beak was asunder, horribly rent
The mechanic swore complete recompense
Fine, said the parrot, I'll send you my bill...
I looked through eyes, were never cruel;
O, but their looking long was naught!
Though people may have thought me fool,
I looked through eyes, were never cruel
All that for loneliness, was my school;
And by no friends, were ever sought:
I looked through eyes, were never cruel-
O, but their looking long was naught!
(Triolet form)
I love you terribly, and because of it
I am become completely impotent.
And I love you impotently,
And that is a terrible thing to behold.
I love you patiently
Because the root of me is a grave impatience,
And I love you impatiently
Lest the present root begin to die in earnest.
My flesh loves the scarlet sin in all of you;
Being that itself is made entirely of ruby-blooded flesh.
And my spirit loves the resounding hollowness
Of your souls thin, empty rails.

My love is an imperturbable being
That is too soon ground beneath your wheel, like an acorn;
And it is an impenetrable wheel
Which pulls me under, on it's return travel around.
This love is a decomposing hand
That's rising up fist-like, out of a newly closed grave
To grab my ankle as I run past, trying to scream out your name,
Through some shadowed cemetery, at some ungodly hour
In a world that looks suspiciously like this one.

And this love is a panting hound,
Trying to rebury its last remaining bone scrap of hope
With two lame legs impeding;
While this love, a one-eyed crow
Sits taciturn in a tree, just above a tiny, dead sparrow-
And fluffs its jet feathers, unconcernedly.
Unwilling the pain of shared listening,  their flesh one
go the closed voices only into lovers warm drunken secrets
painful of imagination’s beauty, which knows rare echoes of the words
their lips listened, covetous of real angels token posturing
lovely sweat pouring, like children's hearts pound effortlessly
paths again melting, into the delicate thrill of the still-ordinary
already the transformation, into sweet bruising elation
playful caressing of the passions we empty summer lives into
where all existence strolls fragrant, blossoms from the discovery of it
building up bliss, ceasing breathing, his first friction becoming
imagined time-telling giddy kisses, given and held by her eyes
in this electric universe, purchased time and again
with breath of the impossible imagined.
I miss you, and I'm afraid to ask
Where you've gone, where you've been,
How you are, and most of all, if you still are-

I fear the answer most, that doesn't come,
The reply that never arrives:
Bravery was never my forte.

But I wanted to say I miss you
And that I imagine you doing well-
Because that's the only vision I can withstand.

I wish I were the kind could shore up another,
Be their rock and guide, through stormy days.
Unfortunately, I am only that one who stays quietly faithful
In the inner heart, till the very end.

But I can't imagine there being an end to you
Or of that vision that you are the only container of
Ever met with, in my lifetime of knowing.

So I will only say, I wish you well, forever
Come what may, and hope that we will meet again-
Some other, better day.
To my friend, whether in darkness or or in light. ;)
Right now you're only a photo, and a distant voice:
But I have your wall's pattern
Committed to long term memory;
I'm sure I will see it in my dreams sometimes.

But you are much larger than all of that;
Than tiles and towels in a bowl.
In your sphere of influence,
My little world quakes.

Under the coming of such imminence
I feel the forward air rushing up
Just ahead of the subway's arrival
On it's familiar path, to the welcoming arms of the station.

I can feel the doors as they swish open,
And a million thoughts starting to fly in and out
Like so many frantic travelers
Going anywhere on a nameless, fragrant summer's day.

Behind it all is the transfiguration
Of a pair of eyes, that I seem to know best
From the inside out, from somewhere unshadowed,
Where time does not need to count on it's fingers.

And already I know that it is not the words
That I will get the chance to say to you,
That will haunt me; but all the thousands of words
That we will never say-

So that they will hang open-mouthed,
There in the stagnant stillness, where nothing moves,
And where nothing has its being any more
When those doors have closed forever.
and many thanks to Wormwood, for curing my myopic errors, lol  :)
Tangent debacles I inherit from your stream;
Your face is otherworldly, inside of my dreams.

Shimmering infinity of warp and woof;
Tapestries uncurled by creation's hook.

Recorded epiphanies and pertinent facts,
Of life and death, proceeding on track.

Truth and reality's mortal refrains,
Embodied in man, so we'll know them again
I'm too big for your suitcase-
My life is a hell;
I thought I'd go with you
When they ring that bell.

I thought I could fold
My face to my knees;
Wrap my arms round my legs,
Hold my breath until three.

Then emerge from the suitcase
Unscathed as you please,
But there's no way I'll fit there-
I've eaten too much cheese.

I'm too wide for the zipper,
It won't close or move,
And worse, it seems stuck there-
Right in my groove.

I'm too wide for the zipper,
And it's teeth are now stretched;
If I just had no feet
I would feel much less wretched.

My head doesn't fit,
And my arms much too long;
If I could get shortened-
Would it be so wrong?

I thought I would fit
In your suitcase, to hide;
But instead, I'll just mail me
In a big box, inside.

Like a tomb for a Pharoah,
I'll have room for my parts;
On my way to you now,
To reclaim my lost heart.
In a dream I shall feel
The wings of the world unfolding, and
Worlds spinning on the axis of mad journeys;
And the seas breaking turquoise, upon their rippled surface.

In the heart of the ears
I shall hear the shivering willows, dreaming their
Wood-smoke dreams, full of sap and  funneled sunlight;
Pierced by light for a thousand years

And the flowers sleeping nestled in stars;
Gathered in the deep, among the wood-thrushes,
In coagulated violet forests, all shadowed and dark:
And a whispered peace barely rustles this world.
In a madman's rush, the worm gets born:
As shouting words do the fight unleash,
Moon's in eyes, and the soul gets shorn.

Why lay hands on the things that harm,
When there's brokenwinged wonder, in our speech-
In a madman's rush, the worm gets born.

The shroud is lost, unravelled and torn,
And human mercy is but a leech:
Moon's in eyes, and the soul gets shorn.

Scorpion's sting, and mankind's scorn;
It seems real justice is out of reach:
In a madman's rush, the worm gets born.

The unicorn has lost his horn;
The mermaid's dead upon the beach-
Moon's in eyes, and the soul gets shorn.

My thoughts are deep and as forlorn;
For man, by the heart of him's impeached:
In a madman's rush, the worm gets born,
Moon's in eyes, and the soul gets shorn.
(Villanelle form)
In men's clear eyes, there live the bravest things:
A hope that sings, as brave as any bird;
Though it should fly, through hours of glancing rain
That scarce has ceased, before it's song is heard.

In men's quiet thoughts, dwell hours of silent pain,
Though it wake you not, the minutes crawling by;
Like stately columns of soldiers, on parade,
The only shot fired's a lone tear, from his eye.

In men's bold dreams, are things not ever seen;
Yet mirror tomorrow's face there, in the rooms,
And flowers rare, not seen before on Earth;
But upon his least intention, they must bloom.

In men's most hidden soul, nobody knows
What ties the form, into his very mind;
Though it's the secret, central mystery:
Goes back too far, for anyone to find.
Troubles fade away
In the far moonlight
All the cares of day
In the far moonlight
Slow and peaceful breathing
As the weary thoughts are leaving
In the far moonlight.

Peace comes unfurled
In the far moonlight
Brows lie unfurrowed
In the far moonlight
Serene faces all I see
As I look around me
In the far moonlight.

If days were not so long
In the far moonlight
We'd not dread the coming dawn
In the far moonlight
If the hours were less hurried
Then we'd never want to worry
In the far moonlight.
In the midst of all your dreams
I tiptoe through your heart
While the stars about us gleam
I put to work my art

I tiptoe through your heart
The stars alone can see
I put to work my art
To bring your love to me

The stars alone can see
How I cast my sovereign spell
To bring your love to me
For nobody can tell

How I cast my sovereign spell
And I wrap your dreams with mine
For nobody can tell
And I do it every night

And I wrap your dreams with mine
While the stars about us gleam
And I do it every night
In the midst of all your dreams
(Pantoum Form)
Silence upon other silence grows;
Taller than any skyward cathedral,
Wider than divisions, between two brothers.

The only sincere silence is natural,
Or found by a flickering candle’s flame,
And the latency, of a sleeping child.

After a death, some silence may roar
Down zigzagging corridors, of dazed;
Haunting midnight's vertiginous dreams.

Numbness opens vast reservoirs of quiet
And in the resultant- preternaturally stilled-
Silence sometimes finds its earthly voice.

I now present to you, Silence itself-
Bereft of courtesies, or dignified flourishes;
Bare as a babe at death- or birth.
Let me forget transient sadness
Let me reinvent me
And not be too small inside

Let me grow fat with happy
Be tender with those
Who grieve

Forgiving of children
And men

And into other hearts
My own heart weave

Let me forget what's unhappy
A day's such a miracle born

Who knew existence would happen
Or that it would happen so soon

Let me love while time
Has patience, for lovers

Let me grow while Earth
Still has room, for flowers

Open my heart
To see others pain

And try to make a difference
Before I have to leave again

I pray for wings, for my heart to fly
I pray the most, in blue breaths of sky

July 5 2010
A poem/prayer for my best friend, Anna. I wish that I had met her in school. Would have been a much less lonely place, way back when...
then again, maybe it's good I didn't; we might have taken over the world?  :)
I steal the ghosts, from others words;
I lift the toast, things seldom heard-
A breath from one goes out, and then
Another creature breathes it in.

The idea that was dead, in you;
I dig it up, and brush the loose
Debris away, and hang to dry-
To have my way, with words gone by.
Is there a world in shadow
At the gate, where life has fled;
A place from where the birds have gone,
And nothing lives but dread?

Where shade holds all the secrets,
And the dreams are empty shells,
And the locks have skeleton keys,
Kept safely down in hell.

Where there are no second chances,
And the sunlight will not reach,
And the time is always midnight,
For the hour will not breach.

Is there a world in shadow,
Where the living cannot stay,
With opposing rules of nature
Where the shadow people play?
I think it is not hard to die,
With all the memories passing by
And all the loved ones gone before,
Through that often-opened door.

I think it is not hard to close
The eyes, and move more in the soul,
And cease to breathe, and know at last
That all the pain and worry's past.

I think it will be hard to miss
The friends embrace, and that dear kiss;
Our world of loving moments fled-
And will we know then we are dead?
And I wake up, greedy to live:
The sun climbs higher, in morning’s sky,
While Buddha sits, in his gold-paint statue,
And household saints hide in early shadow,
And woodpeckers do old style tap-shoe.

Coffee smells are rampant now,
The squawk box is rife, with trivial banter;
A nice background sound to go on living to
And the air foams up, at window and door-
The unspoken things are breaking through

A new day's come now, bearing gifts
Unknown, they're already on their way;
Life grows exacting and random, the same,
And again I awaken, greedy to live
And exult in the freedom, to play this game..
I was gagging on poetry
And nothing could help:

I was gagging on poetry
So they let me lay my head
On Emily's desk
And her inkwell spilled.

I was gagging on poetry
And they covered me up
With Whitman's army blanket
On which I promptly threw up.

I was gagging on poetry
And the Poet Laureate
Sent me a get well bouquet
Of forget me knots.

I was gagging on poetry
And all my poems
Kept getting rejected
For Selective Service.

I was gagging on poetry
And they performed
The Heimlich maneuver

And up came
Twelve autobiographical
Sketches of poets

Thirteen anthologies

Three missing manuscripts

Two thesaurus books

One rhyming dictionary

And my good luck eraser.
They don't want to hear it
These minutes of a life; this synopsis
That could only make sense to you
Even if it doesn't.
It's your baby, your Alcatraz, your Auschwitz;
Don't expect any sympathy
And then they won't bare their own scars
Of things you haven't even dreamed of.

Dig a hole and bury that pain in secret,
Like a cat buries its dung,
In the dead of night.
Paste on a fake, plastic smile
In a bright color, early next morning.
Life is shallow, because we are selfish
In our weakness-
How about pink?
I will feel nothing at all when you die,
Though the leaves will swirl in early Autumn's breath,
Failing to completely cover other now defunct greenery,
It is just nature's way; after all-
And so, I will feel nothing.

I will weep no tears after you are gone;
You didn't want my tears when you were alive,
And dead, would never know that they were for you.
My tears running down your own face, you would never feel-
There is nothing left to feel, for you.

We lived in the world at the same time,
Breathed and trembled and sighed, upon the same galaxy's arms.
Dreamed and fidgeted and awoke each day, to something brand new.
But I had nothing you wanted, and you had nothing to give-
And what I will feel is simply more nothing; nothing when you are dead.
Kami-Kaze dinner test
This is a test of the emergency Kami-Kaze dinner alert
If this were a real emergency,
You would have been instructed where to go
And what to do next;
But as this is just a test,
Please pick up your napkins
And arrange them comfortably on your laps.

Begin the salad or soup course,
Picking up the correct utensils when the main course appears,
Don't forget to sniff for the delicate aromas-
Wait, hold it-hold it-hold it.
Hold on for just a dad-gummed minute there:
No shish-kebobs allowed on the menu!
Kami-Kazes just love shish-kebobs..
(Heads are gonna roll for this one)
This is no longer a test;
Get ready now, everyone

Dive beneath the table now
Fast as you can,
This is no joke, no;
This is real, as real as it gets
Come on-
Push aside the table cloth,
Bend down, bend down quickly
Forehead to knees, and hold your breath,
Just like you were taught years ago in school-
And prepare to kiss the pork ****, goodbye.
Sorry- er, blizzards make me weird. :D
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