Elusive, mischievous feline, you confound me,

you are stardust, quicksilver,

a pink-nosed rogue, indifferent to beseeching,  

oblivious to the outstretched palm,

and as I lean near to listen with all attentiveness,

you withhold even the momentary purr,

choosing only a quizzical look and a single blink

before the paw lick and scamper,

and the search to grace elsewhere.

I've got a reading!
And the venue's all sold out.
It's an old phone booth
that some company threw out.

Standing room only
you can get in by arrangement
I'll just hop out
for the term of your engagement.

If you show up
you won't even need a mask
'cause you'll be standing
on the far side of the glass.

My voice sounds muffled
in the sound-proof enclosure
so my poetry won't really
be getting much exposure.

For my fan base
it's the ideal place to show.
See, I can do the reading
and no one else will know.

Take a lonely stroll through the park of life
Why not kick a stone whilst you’re there to enjoy the mood?
Turn and face the oncoming sweep of hatred with pitchforks at your throat
All you did was kick a little stone.
The rope is tight, it cuts and you bleed
But try to smile as the hateful hands stroke at you with enviable despise.
They drag you through dirt that scathes your façade.
But still you show what’s left of your smile.
The ropes pull and off you fly behind hooves of hatred,
gored and disfigured you cheerfully drag yourself up from behind the horse.
The horse **** tearing at your wounds as you try to stand.
Such a crowd
You wave at your fans and they pelt you with vinegar,
acid bubbles into the bastardised crevices,
your legs buckle as you’re yanked from behind ,
your eyes falter as you watch your essence snake out into the rabble.
They lick at your heels as your mind begins to wander.
Back to the block. You come to, the crowd is cheering
They’re happy and so you thank your audience.
Your eyes adjusting to the love as the axe blade cracks your neck through to the jaw leaving your disfigured skull rolling down into the dispersing gathering.

To entertain
means to be starkers
and dance with veils,
to exoticize war
and tremble in
a thousand rhythms.
Bejeweled as a spy,
nevertheless,
don't know why.
Eye of the day,
and a dozen matchlocks
had me inertly settle
upon my knees,
before bending at my waist
to take one last look
at the fiery heavens.

from hearing the word flying
to
thinking of flying
to
longing to fly
to
learning to fly
to
flapping her wings

she finally
soared high into the sky
amid the applause and cheers

that was when she realized
the immensity
of the universe

Now 20 turning 21 this month, but you don't realize the time and where it went until you reach a certain age.
20 still young but not as young when you think back to years ago.
When i was 10 i thought my teenage and adult life would be filled with what we see on the movies, full of life, party and fun.
But it really isn't like that, when you reach a certain age maybe for some what you wish you had may never become.
Never being able to join the cool kids, go to parties to have sleep overs because you're not labeled as "cool".
Time's have changed since back in your days, or our days.
No more house parties as we used to see, just more reckless than what old generation of the youthful playful teens would be.
I used to think drugs, parties, alcohol, loud music, *** and being popular would be cool, (isn't that what we all thought high school would be like?)
but now i look back and think it wouldn't be fun to...
die from drugs, puke from poison, carry maybe syphilis.
But maybe being able to join a party or 2 and be a bit popular and be liked would be cool.
Or would it?