No youth or age hides from an eternal rule:
                                the touch of vulnerability     by which all creatures of Sea & Land
      bayonet->all|sides| of the same chordTingles confusion                                      the brainsBROken-spoken politeness  revealed by natural light a
      sewn-skin upon a parched vacant Post-sign by-wild(er) words (ok)_.
So We cry. A miracle so difficult! And then blew my eyes saying,
'Death is a miracle feeling no pain'
toward my pain's feelings long history//the banality of insanity
rolled a beach ball by the hand of God-Bless i wish to know
those secrets He keeps away keeps unto the majestic miracles,    -Father;
     we children cry when we see
                                 the End of Loved Ones                                     we
                                 believing YOU: funeral                                    or    
                                 victory!

:: ~~ ::

come to me,
my beloveds
with long nails
and squinting eyes,
spare neither
claw or hook,
delve and devolve,
critique and solve
the words of this prophet
scribbled on plastic
bus seats

give me
my due,
my comeuppance,
my downfalls

will me
to be better
or worse
if that be betterment

so eagerly
will embrace,
grasp, insert
your benailing fingers,
soften, grasp,
repoint thy claws
taking thy earnest joy
at pain inflicted
as my own
as long as you dare
just say something!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A bus poem
in honor of my invitation  
my digital birthing

April 8th, 2015

Consideration for others
    is an act of generosity -- how thoughtful!
Conforming to others
    is an act of suicide -- how awful!
Don't **** yourself for the approval
    of others or their opinions and views.
You're worth so much more
    than what they say or think of you.
Just be Yourself

    @desire.is.dope
    2-24-19
    0149HRS

“Consider me
As one who loved poetry
And persimmons”
–Shiki

As one who loved
Poetry and persimmons
Pomegranates and prose

Who visited
Keats’ nightingale tree
And Freud’s couch

Who stayed
Long after winter storms
Struck spirit with lightning

Who traveled
Beyond starry dusted night
To speak with spirits

Who survived
The ***** and peril
Of the provokers pike

Who rose
Not from clichéd ash
But from papery embers

Who wrote
Down every word
On lined parchment

Who seduced
Your very soul to squander
Its sentiment on one

Who gave
Of himself
Everything


[Note: This poem was originally published by Cadence Collective: https://cadencecollective.net/2015/10/27/consider-me/]

There's a light at the end of the tunnel
for if there wasn't
it would be a cave
and you would be stuck.