morning
the city is gruffly petted with heat  
       buildings quiver in the primeval whither
wide mouthed and whiskered
         the catfish thrive in the sewers
taking aggression to the air and fixing to the trees
        the insects speed into vigorous breeding

in the populated afternoon    city is sternly scored    
pressed down on    its wilted fur pushed    from back to front
each itchy person   is its own greasy hair
salt beads from brows    and stinging eyes are blinded

scolded and bonded      the witless humans slow
natures patient pace is not kin to their will
          antsy
ticking noises and electric whines whittle the air
discomfort makes life immediate
       a deal to be flustered with
every enduring breath is consciously felt
       alive and in suffering

i crouch my form in shelter
a jilted couch to lean against     bordering a grown over lot
watching the foxes patrol in sweltering sun
what expected prey   brought them into the light ?
i release my hurt understanding   (it patrols also)
my hurt snakes through the long tough grass   and tacky broken glass
it moves further   raised in a mirage hover
over welting heat from the melting tarmac
this way   i please my way into nurture
this way   i ease my suffering
hum with the wires
and smile at a good day putrefying

s t a t i c

populous city
summer heat gloating
these isolated nights poison
anxious residents
all strangers to their neighbours

squared away
bedded
they coil about their trusted genitalia
despising



c o w e r

wolf ,
          could you even go stalking in the woods ?
                 you'd get blisters
                            breaking in pricy footwear
          that smart suit ?
                             ridiculous ;     covering your fur
           you've become cowed by your domesticated soul

Rose of a champion
Thought, in a beautified accord
Set to waiting hours, a needs complexion
Where we are, the tale of unity to its peaceful order...

Skip, argue or define
The truth, we removed by bounty of pouts...?
Sated avarice, and the curtness of kin caught in a notorious lie...
Welcome a shadow to breath, when a harrowed eye allowed...?

Is a requited girth, of when, any of a decency's curse?
Has found me, in a live and by chastity's purpose
Handsomer skills that agree, in no known terms...
I had the taste of pride, like a reality of sin, to accuse

Why...?
No man with a tradition of sincerity, is this island commit
Without the sigh of me, the irony to dwell and seek tight
The course of another ship of fortune, that has seldom to wit:

Look, an eye of poise, if not intellects poison...
Made manifest by the only few, of bared conscience
That has us for curiosity's fool, but you, for another hero to loan
A flower of understated chaste; a victim of letters of prescience?

Tall tales of nothing more than a drunk hysteria?
Here is your mind, in my way for one more timidity...
Think and details of weal, we will know until votes ***** drama
To a reaching hour, no one above another, like acts of humanity...

New words that part my lips are vast and wide
Still sometimes spilling sweetness, shame and spit.
A pattern simply changing with the times,
So I can't say that you're to blame for it.

New insights, clouds, dark lakes where pebbles drop.
Ideas float around that serve me well.
The light with shadow, night with glowing dots.
Sweet intricacies dance while we repel.

I've learned to ebb and flow beside my lungs,
To hold the space, despite the urge to run.
This burning flame needs fuel to elevate,
To learn the lesson. Protect me, I'll wait.

Living was easier when we thought that pain was only given to us by criminals, vile humans & enemies.

-fir.m

People are like newfound plants in the nature
They can be so beautiful
Yet so poisonous
Sometimes they are dull
Yet so productive and kind
Kind in a plant world
And people in human world
But you will never know who they really are
Unless you come close
And touch them
Unless you take a big risk
And spill your thoughts to a stranger

I breath in and out
That is what makes me alive, huh?
And my flesh
My bones
My blood
My pumping heart makes me human
But what is m soul made of?
It is not colorful like it used to be
It is not bright like others
Indeed it is barely alive with bleeding holes
It has all my pain
All my suffering
And every new knife that stabs my back
Makes a new hole

this poet is built
on a barn of human ****
one of many ways