I worry about you. Not the kind of you who watch stories of mass murders and social discrimination and videos of violent madmen beheading others in wars little or large; or those who stamp on people's self-respects and rights and on their simple lives, and take a bite from your burger, noisily belch, and continue with your petty lives because it doesn't make a difference.
I worry about those of you who take it in their hands. The kind of you who take it in their hands and their tongues and their blogs but bother not for once to leave their comfy chairs and go out. Those who can spew hatred so vehemently against a class or a religion or "that-group-of-madmen", and can very intelligently present us records of the number of people killed with their ages, notes and dreams. Also, the Moslem passports found just on the site, with your handwritten prescriptions of what the Moslems should do and do not, how the entire responsibility falls on them and when it does not, plus why the moderate and the extremists should both die because "you" have problems with really everything they do!
I worry about you who sit there, write books, and keep trying without really doing anything but corrupt whatever little peace we're holding onto, while we're here, *traumatized just the same.

"I call people creatures sometimes
That may not
Be a good sign"
        -mikecccc*

I can't help but wonder what the writer's trying to convey,
And in my mind I picture one of the creatures who say;
"We're much more like people than humans are anyway,
As proven by Jean Baptiste Pierre Antoine de Monet,
Inheritance played a part in changing human DNA,
Which caused you to view every creature as prey,
So next time you blurt out a line so passé
Remember it's us you're insulting today."
And with that the fair creature returned on it's way,
Whilst the humans returned and lined up for their pay,
Earned from the torn earth and the creatures they slay.

I ask my fellow writer a question if I may;
Was it your intent to insult creatures that day?

Your words are like a hidden key,

They unlock secret parts of me.

I might be your fall, but you’re a pick-me-up to me. I might have written my way into your book, but you did more, you illustrated your love clearly, you displayed it so publicly that it was somehow secreted in front of my own eyes.

Your ruby red cheeks provide a window into your mind, indicating what it is you think when I speak: happiness, anger, fear, contentment.

Your lips provide a physical contact point for us to meet, connection yet no wifi needed, communication yet no cell towers, A commitment between two invisible entities, a communication between two hearts.

My eyes betray my emotion as your cheeks betray yours. What study is it that requires me out of your head? What history is more important than that of our own? What pit is so deep, so dark as to keep the sun away? For, love, tell me this, and I shall change it faster than a bad tv channel.

Your worries should fade, for they are nothing but spiteful superficial seeds sown by one who claims to dis thee. Hateration is a disease, but, my love, when one is as beautiful as you are or as sweet and mellifluous as you, you must accept that you attract it.

Taking note of your existence is like being in a building burning and continuing your business, ergo I always do what I can to let you know that I see you. I love you, I loved you, and I’m loving you to this day. So may our loves last as long as our kisses, and may our kisses last as long as our intimatic energies can remain stabilized.

In the frequent changes that take place from time to time
In everything that moves from one moment to next
In each and everything and in all,
there is something that will remain constant
There is something that will remain the same
It's the response to change.

Every change has got a start at some point of time
Every change breaks a myth,
bringing a new reality to life.
Every change has got something substantial to do with the present moment in time
Every change makes sure that it presents the present moment in time in a different way, different from all that happened prior.

Every change will tell what else is there with regards to the future
Agree, accept and welcome a change with concise and clear mindset and an open heart.

nothing flights these skies tonite
nothing burns above our heads
or crackles in the air
or glows in the houses about us
as we pace the cool and empty
the alleys and the meatless streets
and the clean scaleless cobbles
carry our patternless birch-bare feet
a sail less nite
but a kite to the imagination
a bringer of new
lighter beings
osmosis
through our faultless immigration




Previously published [Show Thieves 2010 : An Anthology Of Contemporary Montreal Poetry - 8TH HOUSE PUBLISHING]

I am words written on blank paper,
The words are there but no-one can see them until they are spoken.
The girl in the back of the classroom, unnoticed
Until she can open her mouth wide enough to sing with the chorus.

I am the one they call afraid
When Destiny knocks at my door
I can't find the words to even begin to say
I'm just not yet ready
But once I am, my God, I'm unstopable.

Warning: Writing slightly explicit
These hoes ain't loyal....Hmmmmm!
My thoughts:

Now I love this song,
but something must be said
These hoes ain't loyal
But she was in your bed
Talking all this ****
Bout a purse
And 9
But you weren't thinking this
Working your 5
Licking her spine
Telling her you love her
And this *** is mine
Acting like a saint
Yet you da one who knew
Huggin in your bed
Calling her your Boo
Oh, she da ***?
***** what the **** is you?
Yet she da one texting
Thinking on you
Maybe you don't understand
Words got you confused
Looking for a man
One without abuse
No games no lies
Tired of being used
You calling her a ***
But she the one you choose
Over and over
Your familiar chick
You trust, you lust
You lick her ****
Yea fine
Spit it ... ***
But every single time
It takes two you know
Even from behind....

And if she is that
Own up to it too
You ain't the only one
******* with a ***
Rotate, Flipped....
You's a *** too....

©MV

this is a love letter not a goodbye.....
it has been a year since our argument
and so much has changed.
maybe it's because we are on different sides of the revolving earth
or maybe it's because you  just don't care any longer.
but i thought i'd take the time and write you this;
i still love you.
and i’m sorry my last letter made you feel nothing
and i’m sorry that i had to leave and i never tried again.
this past year i’ve been thinking about us, you;
where we went wrong
and where we didn’t.
and i guess i still don’t have anwser; all i know is that you gave up on me quicker than i gave up on you.
i hope next summer when i visit we can finally close the wound
because to me it doesn’t feel like it’s been bandaged, only sugarcoated…
but i guess that’s what we do for love.
when i picture my life, still at home,  
i picture you and i;
and what we would have done together.
everyone says we would have gotten together; they couldn’t guess for how long; but they knew.
and mum says i would have taken you to my dance and we would have laughed, kissed and made terrible jokes and pulled pranks on people we didn’t even know.
i heard you’ve been hanging out with the wrong people;
i always knew that would happen.
and it pains and disgusts me that you’re throwing away your life;
i want to fix it so badly
but i don’t think i can from my dim lit desk halfway around the world.
when we’ve talked breifly;
i try to make your life a living hell
so you know what it feels like.
but then i remember that you just don’t care.
and when i asked if you remember what happened that cold july night;
you respond
‘no, i just don’t care.’
and why would i want to be with someone like that anyway?
my last letter was confusing,
i admit.
i was angry and upset and i just wanted you to love me.
but i’ve learned now that you can’t make people love you.
and i’ve learned that if you really want to say something…

...say it…

Wild child space travel gypsy
       drunk    on     the cosmos
     churning a sensual pattern--
             melting         suns
with a carefree wink
as stars pour into her eyes
like a garnet shiraz
       spiraling
              in    tidal   waves
splashing in a crystal wine glass
     caressing
              her white light lips.

Planets dip and dangle around her hips
as the weight of the nebulous nectar whispers
                                       lullabies to her eyes
         as her incandescent            hair contours
    to copious glistening constellations  
rippling across her tired body
                 like ice dripping on a warm chest
vibrating    indigo       moonlight         jazz
enrapturing millions with her simple act of symphonic yawning
as the dusk light dawning over faces
embraces souls stirring--
her purring hip cat dreams
leave people like us with mouths agape
as her voluptuousness nape hushes
us with a supernova explosion of peace
oscillating between
each of our spirits.