In the burning right hand of the bald city,
denizens frame calories and count instagram blessings
while beacons of hope refund inspiration in USADA *** cups.

Abyssinian maids wail over yesterday lovers
who wore Ginsberg’s skirt with less  pizzazz
and watched bedbugs **** blood off knee caps
wondering, what if Jesus Christ drove a Nissan?

As bullets of paragraphs fall Vietnamese pesticides on my head,
The dusts off my breath sing homilies
With letters of broken leather whiskey,
For even in the most dishonest jest,
clandestine toothbrushes are overrated
and every first false lie is the only truth.

Night is for the hours
Cowards,
Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers

It's been said napkins are the greatest currency
For it holds the food spittle of man
Like how ambulances sit waiting
To clean up after misfortunes
And make fortunes for the fortun-
Who Ate paragraphs of spider webs
And patted weaves like black men seating at the back of the limited luxurious Q46 bus nodding heads to the noise of Toyota cameras they couldn't afford in the land where they spend $300 million to part the seas for summer entertainment
While they only spent $40 on California cuteness and walked on water with 13 Jesus' and ate at the bottom of the sea with only three tokes from the plastic bag

Let a man of God speak or night
Will continue to burn flowers
For we graduated from 30 hot nights of mathematics
Only to find that the future will always be white and in the *******

Gone are the days of yore
When intellectualism was a preserve
Of the privileged and distinguished in society
A family ‘heirloom’ passed on to succeeding generations

Over the years the human mind
Has morphed into a think tank of awe and bamboozlement
An object for advancement…and destruction almost in equal measure
A portal to self-destruction

Political pundits passionately discourse in the corridors
Of power over an issue as mundane as   food taxes
Am ****** if this aint a move to subjugate the populace
Whilst reveling in the guise of representing the best interests of the electorate

It’s a slap in the face of reason and logic
A soiling and tainting of mother earth’s unconditional benevolence
Extended to her humble earthlings as bountiful harvest
But a means of self-aggrandizement it is for the politicians and their loyalists
Apparently this is *political correctness

“When I was young, you fascinated me.
You were always so beautiful
So perfect.
You had a wide smile,
and beautifully deep eyes.
You had a glowing warmth,
that my childhood body grew up surrounded in.
In your arms I felt safe and whole.
Your arms were my home.

When your arms began to get weaker and weaker,
I couldn’t understand.
Where was the life I once knew?
The life I loved so dearly?
The soul was still there,
But the life,
The life was slipping away.
Your arms were my home,
But you were letting in the rain.
The house was crumbling before our eyes,
And you couldn’t help it.

The last time I ever saw you again,
Was on a cool summers morning.
You were sat in a wheelchair,
And it wasn’t your home.
You smiled amidst a backdrop of wild greens, and pretty flowers.
I asked you to stay with me always,
And you promised you would.
Your arms were my home.
I’d be without shelter otherwise.

Well, God works in weird and wonderful ways,
And the day your soul departed from my world,
Was the day my heart crumbled,
Into a thousand tiny pieces.
I had convinced myself that you had broken your promise.

But my twenty year old self looks back,
With hindsight,
With knowledge,
With faith and with wisdom,
That a thirteen year old girl can never have.

You kept your promise.
You are always with me.
In a light summer rain,
In a bitter winters night,
Amidst the beautiful browns and golds of an Autumn day.

You are the beautiful warmth that fills my heart,
Every time it beats.

Your arms are always my home.”