I want poetry to break out of it's underground cave
Break out of the solitary lonely, locked cage.


I want my poetry to be capable of inspiring change
I want to illustrate beauty in a verse beautifully maimed
I want to communicate the tender sudden pulse of a surface wound
I want my poetry to be blueprints for change, in the world, or a room
I want to connect the universal nerve of tremors and feelings
I want to connect wires and vessels, shifting cells and ceilings
I want to broadcast this current human condition,
Rewiring like a revolutionary electrician
I want to transcend my, and next time,
With my poems added to anthologies
And each of their lines
Being recited by literary scholars and dedicated readers


But I have accepted some poets are popular during their lifetimes
Like Alice Cary, and Maya Angelou
With acknowledged, renowned, printed
Published Stanzas, and lines.
I want to at the very least, be one of those who guard a hidden, folded..
[Rather than outdated, infamous, tattered and broken]
..genuis.
Or maybe an answer to some past hanging question
Found in the very letters in my words to
The trademarked inflection
Breathing a bashful verse that grew in this universe
Or the next
To strengthen roots of the beauty of language
The older, the wiser, the more interpreted complex
Not the unknown but claimed roots of American poetry
And some
May close the **** kindle. Or rip out the last page.
After I die, I might return with bones live with rage.


Because if nothing has happened, I will continue to say:
I want my poetry to be capable of inspiring change.


Because we are destroying a world we should be killing fighting to save.
(Hopefully this shan't be said again from a grave.)
Each person who has read solely to write one more page
Take your weapons, inspire, engage
None can lay bricks until a clear path is paved.

iii.viii.xii

Responsible for a few things.
Warm nights.
Stopped time.
Catharsis.
Existence.
It's all your fault that I am two people at once.

Walking, but just carried
One, five, another
Ignoring the background whispers
And the words of my mother

Passing another, without recognition
I will climb every mountain
I'll never ask for permission
Results accurately display the current conditions
Intentions can be questioned
Scan this place for a moment
Non-action is non-action
No claim to submission
Game time, now own it
Integrity is not my invention
Present, direct attention

To the clouds, over the other direction
Blood boils like classic convention
I'll say that reality is wrong, dreams are for real.
Keep bending corners on life-warranted wheels
Great minds, start thinking, change can be real

Come to inside various naked walls, situations
Schedule those ineffective, biased evaluations
Go to a poor country, try to survive some starvation.
How does a heavy nose remain at high elevation?
Passion, giddy with six-digit dedication?
Scan this for a moment
Respect is earned,
Those hands are too small to hold it
Infinite efforts to label and mold it
Unfit to claim it or fold it
This world is the world's world
Karma visited them.
Who thought they sold it.
History repeats itself
Who wrote it?
Who told it?
Apparently Texas thinks they can own it.

But my world has an afterglow
This is not the crest smile
Or the beat of this flow
It's the pursuit of happiness
Growth, searching high
And searching low
Learning to be learning
And learning how to know
Finding love
Lessons, how to show
To keep the richer, better things
Life's breeze, endurance as my life's seams
To live, yes, but forever to dream.

I'll enjoy this reality scene.

vi.xxi.xi

Eyes switching gazes from right to left pupil. Stories held in thin air for a moment in the space between retinas. Words acting as weapons of mass destruction, hanging in the air becoming stale with every inch as each syllable rises into the atmosphere. Forever echoing in the ears of the listener, penetrating thoughts, clouding the brain, like toxic waste. Encouraging words must be found, they must be said. Dreams, inspiration. Into the minds of the growing, the moving, the future. holding the destiny of this world in small, and innocent hands, and wide eyes. Those eyes are the windows to the next generation and the key to the next miracle the universe begs for. Opening windows, and locking front doors, let’s pretend for a second that time is stoppable, moments aren’t lost, and people live forever.

Results aren’t final unless you ask them to be. Things happen we aren’t sure of, flashbacks your days dream. Having doubts that fill our minds wading through the nerves through the brain stem to the core of the cores of the armor. I can talk to my 13 year old self, and tell him that I understand, and that we’re still the same person, I’m just the shell. I can tell him everything I want. But he’s already lived.

In the mirror, switching gazes from iris to pupil. Lungs collapse as the phrases land on the younger heart of mine. Phrases consisting of the negatives, the outcomes, the results, the roots, the stories, the endings, the beginnings, the alterations, the alternations, the provocations, the imagination. Phrases meant to tear down, not rebuild. The destiny of the world held in small hands, clutched by small fingers, as the quotations waft through rooms. The rooms where they escaped *****, angry, and ignorant mouths. The miracle stares at the reflection, not knowing the necessity of the universe. Closing windows, opening doors, wishing the hands on the clocks of life can stop.

Encouraging words must be found, they must be said.
Let’s write history with the minds of the growing, the moving,
the future.
Nurture.

vi.xxi.xi

Foster, what family? Lower class, dream of  vacation
******* what trickles down, affecting a life situation
White to Blue Collar; a rebuild or invasion?

Millions inside the boxes of convention
Justified superficial, backhanded salutations
Refute Love, proposed as mankind’s invention
Pulled by a string of instant gratification
Finding freedom’s temporary
If ever, long term locations
Constricted, system of classifications
The socially admissible connections,
Not to mention gangs of corrections
Flowing through the previous, my own generation

For the infinite hours
One after the other
Trade integrity for the illusion of power
Not all those with a gun should be considered a coward
Face the souls sold on Wall Street,
Remember those from Twin Towers

Ground zero, abandoned. Now bare, desolate
The idea of terrorism denied, while some wrestle it
Rationales dislocate, post hairline fracture
Frontal lobe imposter, posing in rapture
As if talent, love, or hate could ever be captured
Held at gun point, then forgotten years after
My children will one day look to me for the answer

What’s society, this twisted maze we live in?
I will gaze in their eyes with the same exact question
And don’t ever allow me again not to mention
Real criminals can’t learn from minute or life-long detentions
Some incapable of that level of retention
As our battered soldiers forever sleep at attention

Politically correct, tongues in consistent hesitation
Kiss police ***, only to go to the station
Before the thought of who signed the citation
Treated as if it were a felony violation
Our basic rights according to our nation
Arizona & Co for minority elimination

Die fighting the statute of poverty’s limitations

vi.i.xi

It was more marvelous.


You sang like I'd never heard music
Clenching to the minutes of guitar licks
Coming from the strings of your far hips
Twelve inches away
What's your name again?
Is it Saturday?


This glistening path, where arrows are illegally painted
Eyes past sky, for this liberty belated
These souls
Some have seen the change I live in today
Others cross streets, looking straight ahead
While I'm one of the both ways
Freedom is not a place, or a person, or a thing
It's a state of mind
It's the world on a string
I held in my hand on the yellow brick road


To my right was my dove, and I'll be the toad
Are those my fans?
Did you read the signs they can hold?
In a world spinning so fast
So cold, but so bold?


I'm sold, freedom is priceless you know
Welcome to my life
I'm in the show


But I'm trying. Trying to make sense of the time
As I feel myself unintentionally unwind
But the magic stops,
But only on the outside
Of my body, my skin
Sugar held to my chest
Gluttony is my new favorite sin
Deadly, but some things are good
Like speaking no words
And then understood


Who knew
I knew the world would
At least one note in my life
Make some sense like it should


So look here, glitter, the fairies
I remember I swore I would never get married
Or I would be too fat to carry
Or I would burn, never buried
But life is now this moment
No need to be hurried
Or worried
Or full of hate
Or fury


I've seen too much sadness, but the bottom is alluring
Although I hold my own, this world is not mine
So I took it off my shoulders in El Dorado
And left an old mirror behind.
Please be kind, join me.
Saturday to unwind.

vi.xxvi.xi

Don't listen to what I say.
Empty words left hanging in thin air.
You swat at them
Oh--There's one in your hair.

When it's that time
Do not decide I'm misplaced.
I'll be the glasses you might have lost
That were already on your face.