Defining Lego Moment? What is that, I don’t own one!
Life growing up was unacceptable – it was chemical and dispensable
My life has never been a bed-and-breakfast - early childhood memories got me ill and susceptible
Tryin’ to find a good early childhood memory is like NOT passing “the test”, because I wasn’t in class. So I ask, what’s next?
Defining moments were replaced by worries and doubts, fears and shouts
My, oh my, why couldn’t I have been brought up in someone else’s house?  
I’m just me. So why can’t anyone see I’ve got dreams I want to turn into reality?
I know, maybe I’m adopted! Oh, I could only wish that I belonged to a different home
So who knows, maybe I’m supposed to grow old in a world where survival is at the core of my bones
Future me, I hope that you see, I’m not like them, nor do I ever want to be “like them”

-----------------Fast forward to today ---------------------

I thank GOD for the life I was given and the road that was driven
I’m here because of those dreams which started out as fears - I’m what I am because of those years
I know that I wouldn’t’ be here if it wasn’t for those days of dysfunction and tears
I’m at a junction in my life - I’ve realized that my unction in life is an exponential function that shines like a bright light
My tears have been replaced with people who are sincere and true
I no longer have to worry about the black and blue, now I can simply wave ado…
So I chose to become not what I saw, but what I knew was right in my heart. I leaned on God and learned from stressful nights that choosing the road less taken was all part of this plight
And here we are today….
Now, what does this say, about me?
It says that I’m a child of Destiny, not a child of Disney
It says that I’m a child of God not a child of the Devil
It says that I am…
Predestined presently, sensibly created even though I didn’t come from the best pedigree...

You sink into the fresh cotton ocean
fragranced by the oriental softener
I want you to reach into your inner
most abyss, while I pick my lotion.

We are alone my love, tonight
I owe you with my hands, give up the fight
Trust me, while I weave a warm thread of
tenderness on you, with me, you tread.

My fingers cascade and snake along your spine
I dedicate this moment to you. My message
is carved into you during this slow massage
To me, you are truly defenseless, thus divine

Imperceptibly, I skim your skin,
your breath, I appease
my angel, dream with ease
fallen asleep at my shin.

April 9, 2018
To Laurentin

Tempo of rhyme that has a distinct
             taste of perpetual numbness.
Where the rhythm of our moments
 counted down in  numeric breathes.

Antiquated concepts as in the fluidic
                         verses of where we are,
                                      Where we were,
                              and our culmination.
Momentary between noise and silence.

We are all constructs of visible passing,
within all are finite chimes
                     in the existence in eternity.
The chimes of passing never really ring,
        But shatter within, ending our time.

you made me smile
my eyes twinkled in the dark of the night
my heart leapt with delight

you made me cry
tears ran down my cheeks
like crazy

you closed my eyes
and opened my vision
to a whole new world

a place where  my dreams were kings
where life was a sweet lollipop
where there was only victory to devour

but -
it lasted only a moment
it was just for a while

When do you find the urge to write?
Often I am asked
after someone has given a poem or two a pass.
When I need to I reply,
which isn't far from the truth and isn't a lie.

So why now?  
Why continue utterances to crowds of one hundred and ninety six
and feel ashamed when my heart speaks before my filter hits.
I guess it goes back to my urge to write
To let it all out.
I can't bare these feelings alone so I put them out to scouts.
Hoping that someone can see
That I am not the representation of insanity
That I know you want me all to be.

I am afraid.
Like a child in many ways.
I don't enjoy not knowing what's ahead
Which is why I have found myself closer to dead.

I reach too far and I assume
Rain sleet or shine,
Doesn't matter
I won't see flowers bloom.
And this is the persistent gloom.
That weighs on a soul like a scary cartoon.

I had a lot I could have turned out all right.
****, look at my past: one thing I know is fight.
But every battle takes its toll
And exponentially it seems i'm missing the bowl.

Ironically now I am level headed
Clean shaven
Warm
But by no means in heaven.

Perhaps for people like me
Who won't accept mediocrity
There are but few retreats
And hello poetry is a good one for me.

Red pools sitting in the light
Your hand on my wrist
Sticky fingers.

Screaming in my ear,
Paradise.