to be kind?
                                                           nice words?
compliments
that travel as far as you **** them?
how about you tell  people what you think,
i mean, really, really think...
you can't be more kinder than telling strangers
what you're thinking on the odd chance,
that you can morph
the ethereal presence of thinking
that materialists argue is no basis for a soul...
into medium of shared
experience that, can, somehow,
compenstate itself to state: well...
it's unreal... but it's sure as hell,
******* possible. the heart knows no kidness,
whatever kidness that could ever
and will always exist, is writing a sketch of you
thinking narrative and feeling not fear for having
thrown it out, to the "wind" of a blank page...
       if that's not what you
realise... then i'd invest in canvases,
a studio, paint brushes, oil paints... and a gay lover;
because the art of poetry? is going, to, hurt, like, hell.
for some only god spoke,
        and for others, man spoke over god,
and for others man's origins as the onomatopoeia
of comprehensible wordings trapped and then untangled
from a monkey...
          well... like i said...          at least philosophy
balances on systems... on geometry...
               poetry?      a chance conversation with
a stranger...
               i already said it's hell...
                    do i have to add: please don't, cutie pie?