My father who art in heaven
May he be also a masterpiece
Like eleven
May my main man also join the skies
That part the seas like milky lights.
May my man bring with him me
As a tourist of the nightlife.
Wife me up and hold me tight
Like the stars cling onto the duly skies.

May my main man be the mainest of them all
Sure a little mean isn’t bad at all
Nay he never become a Mayfair sayer
Or a naysayer to his wife’s call.
Today I call upon thee
To help me free fall.
Tall and fully
In love with you truly
You are my one and only all.

He's consist of artworks and paintings,
music and movies,
Heart without he is plain art
Art is what he loves to do
Can't think of anyone but you,
Just you.

I saw you on the lake.
You have a nice tan,
you glistened, wet, and smiled.
We waved halfheartedly, at a distance.
It was one of those 2020 moments.
where we're distanced by discipline,
with desires sheltered in place.
Mine are burned, as fuel,
for piquant eclogues or rest,
unused, like nuclear waste.

Cause you're a horse back rider as I supposed
You hesitate if my heart were closed
But
You're a secret between me & page
Where your name is composed

Be careful!

You may fall
On my inclined heart!

sometimes i wonder if ill ever find that one guy,
the one who will hold me tight on the darkest nights,
the one who wont judge me for who I was and sometimes still am,
the one to laugh with til we're both in tears on a Friday night.

I'm not asking for "the one", my night and shining armor,
just a good guy who'll love me and God right.

there are so many good guys, but none seem quite right.
and I don't think that's me being picky.

so maybe ill never find that guy,
and I'm trying to deal with that fact.
to find comfort in your arms alone, Father.
because at the end of the day, You're all I need.
but that fear and daunting thought still persists.

my father was a
pretty perfect guy,
beloved by most
and especially children.

He was a ‘gallant’ (gaaa~laant)
of european extraction,
who tipped his homburg
and greeted everyone by name,
forgetting none and
who was related to whom,
or their distant cousins
in Kansas City,
with whom he stayed
when he was a
traveling salesman,
in 1933.

My only complaint,
was and remains,
he never went with me
to Yankee Stadium,
saw the emerald green
diamond miracle
in the Bronx hidden,
as he, small businessman,
worked six days a week,
and had no time
for juvenile sports pastimes,
otherwise, he was my
All-American…

Otherwise, he was perfect