the
rain
of pain

fell down
again

i feel the same
out in the lane

sent from a place safe
to a place


unknown





unknown i am
to myself
who am i
where am i

i feel unknown and all alone


the raindrops have their friends,
not alone in their despair


i am but a lonely rainbow.
alone
but
glorious

“I have been trying to get laid
So should I try lacing up my suspenders and get my *******,
for another fifty shades of drinking a Harlem shake to the
piece of cake fairy tale of nagging paper trail just to impress a **** pony tail
at the dark alley bakery, vending her own cookie with a tight shoulder skirt to this lions in search of an empire from a leverage  point to cleavage, Torching the alley with a naked thigh just like tossing a coin into a fountain in a circus with clown with umbrella about throw some shade until when the tides go out to, you get to know who’s been swimming naked upon the pleasures that are bitter to swallow to this blood ******* roaches chasing strangers who would spread her legs to the canvas and induce seduction as a color scheme……..
She called me sadist and I called myself a dreamer,
She dreamt of pushing me off the bed and calling me a screamer
She envisioned cutting my throat and playing jazz with my vocal chords
She fantasied sarcastically caressing my cuticles just because last night I came in short of breath

Previously
She would sell her own soul to the syringe of morphine drip
for a denial shot that pain heals in the prefix of an outpatient  rehab
now in the bathtub nursing in patient withdrawal ,
She would tie a shoe string around her bicep in search of vein,
so as to squeeze the **** libido version of limbo to oblivion
humiliating the dark clouds begging for a shooting star
to the pages that frustrates the pen unto the novel that prescribes a prenuptial of black bride killing the reader’s digest and buries their heads…………..so……………………

I am becoming a book.
that will induce an ****** with sympathy veil of beggar feeding on their own horses
to the end of the caterpillar misery is **** butterfly confetti to script that syncs the readers perception
Into the ****** abuses of the needle that impregnates the ink and tells the canvas to go get paternity test throughout the history of melting medusa lips
that made a homeless robin without a hood painting a revolution in this concrete jungle
where dreams are made up from silence thought that can
ambush a hive softy through whistling that melts
a bee’s temper in the presence of a queen is a poisonous sting of a artist
dipping his own brush into his own soul with a healing dew that never bruises
the honey in the vein of the garden is the beauty of the wine  
From a vine to flower is a grape in the glass is anarchy

From what I am running from
To misery flowing from the river on
That’s why we are here
To profile the lost identity from the art of war that sun Tzu was afraid of losing his head to another thigh!
That’s why we are here
To profile the slit of the dress that curved the sword another napoleon to conquer Soviet Union
That’s why we are here
To profile a love Ballard from contortionist that melted medusa eyes from cold to flexible
Revolution will wear a mini skirt, squat and kiss the lepers hands for the Benjamin’s banking dump jokes...and still hire Johnnie Cochran for second ****** trial of O.J Simpson ……………
That’s why I still want …………………………….



our culture wore a fabric of circus clothes only dance in the arena like a puppet from the strings of the servants chasing a redemption in the den of thrones getting thrown to the game of throne for guilty pleasure as kings daughters were gambling upon gladiators death to the freedom of escaping their own Sobibor that chopped off my foot in the life of Kunta Kinte
Slavery was blushing teeth with a **** moan of a cigarette smoke
Flirting to the horrors of unshaved groins,
from the growing pains in the hands that planted olive trees
to labor and harvest their oil that has become tears of
cowards staining heaven with obscene imagery of their own likeness
holding their insights captive upon the eyes of the ******
Until our backs were a canvas of whips and brutality, we had tattoos
of pain and graffiti of blood as written the book blue skies
claiming the prepare the way the Lord, judging Esther from a supremacy attire of poverty
termed to be isolated from the world where the corner stone fell into the wrong hands and built a
Tower of babel for the Pharisee living in a glass house



Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal to pleasure
the urges out of the Garden of Eden, Adam had to seek leaves to live with eve,
From a mustard seed renouncing the deception ought to praise the womb that gave birth to the blood sweat and tears to the system planting snares pig’s ears and fears ,
with intent to subdue the cat inside the bag from the smell of the rat that has been suffering a broken rib
We used ashes as lotion to conquer the scratching pains of the unhearing wounds eying the staff that turned into a serpent in exodus to the stiff neck of the system after the death of Moses….we had to succumb to victory,


There was a story of how soldiers got hungry
in the battlefield even they started feeding on themselves
Fighting for peace in the pieces of human meat...
upon pawns that have kept chasing the salvation of in the story that was
made by rats that fought all the dogs and killed the cats is like
Judging a fish with its own abilities to climb trees from the a shadow of small boy reflecting an elephant in the room with betrayal that made Julius have a seizure after gambling with another’s man
life with few pieces of silver sealed by a Judas kiss that killed Jesus,

I address this letter to you, in part
to speak of a new time in my life.
For a dashing beau has stolen my heart -
your youngest is set to become a wife!
His touch is cold as a December day,
but his heart’s warm as the high summer sun.
He doesn’t seem the type to go and stray,
just don’t expect grandbabes - he ain’t much fun!
He’s a striking gentleman, famous too,
and he pens the most beautiful of works!
So, with this, my life shall begin anew.
Hello city folk, goodbye Georgia berks!
If y’all plan to meet, you’re plum outta luck,
alas, my dear Edgar is dead as ****.

- t.h.

Unmasque! Unmasque!
I think Poe said it best.
The masks are hiding us,
only showing our best.

What if, let’s say,
I was to take this mask off?
Would you scream, I wonder,
or would you simply scoff?

Underneath this mask,
is another you see.
So how many layers until,
you get down to me?

I think at the base,
that person’s ceased to be.
I’ve suffocated him slowly,
masking insanity.

I’ve welded the doors shut,
and hid away inside.
Praying that the Red Death,
would simply let me abide.

But now the party’s over,
Unmasque! Unmasque!
The insanity has grown feelers,
through these layers of mask.

One by one they’ve fallen,
and been swept aside.
Revealing the damage,
I tried so hard to hide.

Now the air has grown thin,
through this last mask I wear.
I can feel it pulling away,
and starting to tear.

Forgive me please,
I knew not what I done.
At least I’ll be at peace,
with my true face in the sun.

I was never insane
except upon odds
when my heater was touched.

Believe nozzle you hear,
and only one halibut that you see.

Yobs of lumberjack have been forgotten
in the hawthorn of a mischief-maker.

Workmen have no prankster
to inaccuracy the minimum
without the exquisite hostage of their reassessment.

Never to suffer
would never to have been blessed.

The best thoroughfares in light
make you sweaty.

Scoreboard has not yet taught us
if madness is or not
the sublimity of interest.

I remained too much inside my headman
and ended up losing my minimum.