An astir this dimm
she dig train then abscond
that dawn set her part
just round nine o'clock

and she sped into town
but rode back at dusk
met me on this serial port
and funny interlude discretion

with a keystroke to browse
this cockamamie diatribe
while all through a route tonight
yet this flagrant twist ensue  

with her laptop a comrade fair
to find her again
upon this moment of bliss
she rightfully kissed

with a monument there
that touted strikingly tall
like an obelisk affront
an oft-heard prayer.

We are 9 miles away from D.C.,
the eye of the storm on the twentieth.

The suburbia love we had,
storm- before- the -calm  kind of meeting we had on this chaotic day.

9 miles away is the city we love
It is a refuge for our boredom and our doomed relationship
On the metro ride, on the E street and somewhere near Farragut West
We watched small budget movies, had ice cream or playing with each others' hands fondly.

We are several blocks away from all the barricades,
So why don't we get in closer and go to Chinatown Coffee
and then wandering down the H street.

In the suburb,  I do not feel peace,
Because the storm is coming.
I'd rather go in the eye of the storm,with you
Where you fell for me.

This Capital love of ours , on the outskirts of D.C.
Where in a perfect world we would both live in,
like last time you told me on the way to E street.

A carman of lore now
superfluously en route
to enrapture
these egalitarians indebted
to patriots
but clandestine horizon
when jeopardy arises with present  
that unrest succumb to fighting
that surreptitious supplant freedom
with only a vestige of Justice.

If you never try it
You'll never know it
You'll ever wonder
Forever doubt
So break out
Be a chance taker
A faith placer.
Take the bruises
Absorb the scrapes
That come from escaping safe harbour
And storm the border
Of your known neat and orderly
Childhood home.
Welcome to London.

crossing from
the park
to the bank,
stepping over
the remains
of a grackle
on the grass
that glides
into the sidewalk
and

suddenly

dissolves
at the verge
of the

road

Please help pray for Paris. I feel so helpless and sad tonight. I wish it wasn´t real.

Paris

Friday night in Budapest
Music echoing in a bar
A man and woman well dressed
Walking towards their car

Friday night in Paris
Sirens echoing in the street
Chaos rapidly embowering bliss
Ground shaking under running feet

Friday night in Oslo
Laughter and good wine
Tall candlesticks standing aglow
Faces losing track of time

Friday night in Paris
Laughter twisting into cries
Searching for those you miss
As black smoke fills the skies

Friday night in Berlin
Together watching a football game
Hoping that your team will win
Cheering with a poster of their name

Friday night in Paris
Blood on the big green field
Lying on the ground alive you wish
That it simply isn't real

Friday night in London
Going out with a friend
Hearing the ringing of big ben
Thinking of how much to spend

Friday night in Paris
Crowds shattered by gunshots and hate
On your knees filled with anguish
You loved, but now it is too late

Friday night in Rome
Midnight walks under the sky
Couples together, walking home
Others turning to say goodbye

Friday night in Paris
Hate took away the morning
No words can fix this
Or dry the tears of the mourning

I walk tall
I am the final piece
Straps and metal
switch the queen
check mate  
I wear the crown
like thorns
hiss of iron
sickly heat
I am the final piece
Closing door
veil is leather
not my mask
but yours
I am the final piece
The chimney
stench of roast
vessel for your volts
I am the final piece
Charred puppet
dancing feat
I am the final piece
I am the final peace

do you remember capital letters?
the upper case that i seldom use?
remember how i used to use them?
if you scroll through my poems you will see that i did.
but then you happened.
you didn't steal them from me
but capital letters indicate strength
and because of you
i am weak.