gaining grips on lost guesses,
for guesses are the best we can say
our mays have ever pluralized,
in reality
as we say amen
ignoring
ams or weres being
obediant to
some simple law in a mind atuned to

things made of stuff for which we have no name
maybees are maybe or may
be,
mere guesses, or worse, they may
be lies,
hidden under robes and hats worn once
only by the wise

Dragging a bad situation
is like being stabbed in the middle of your collar bones
and slowly sliding it down your chest...

Success is an illusion,
Luck – brad.
Lived in the hot Georgia
Sullen Swede.

Afraid of the sun,
Sat in the shadows.
Cut on a log
The tick-days.

In a secluded green
Honey pears
Dreamed of mold,
Sought in the wilderness.

Shells piled
In a big bag.
Crossword puzzle solving
And sang rhyme.

"It's all your fault" The Leaf Blower complains
"Well, now you've gone and done it" the Rake, my supposed friend admonishes me
My head is buzzing
Says the Leaf Blower, "Always favoring him over me"

Ms. Leaf Blower and I have never gotten along,
Me, because of my seeming inability to properly use her, and the irritation when my dad could and asked me to hold the wire for him
Her, because of my, from a very young age, obvious favoritism towards Mr. Rake, who used to be my best friend until he passed away and my family disposed of his plastic remains

His predecessor, Rake junior, is far sharper than his old man
But rather than make him a better rake this simply adds to his narcissism
Unfortunately, this increases his attraction as well and each time he's swept about it's not just the leaves that are unearthed
Despite this obvious flaw in his being overly sharp, he sees it fit to admonish me for breaking Ms. Leaf Blower
Don't think I can't see the two of you flirting out there!

But indeed I did,
Break her that is, clearly none of the wires were pulled out
yet, she refuses to work

So now,
I'm left with a sullen rake
And a thousand-
Scratch that,
A seemingly never ending yard full of leaves

Have you ever left in a situation
where you want to write a poem
and you have exact words and emotions to write about;
but then looking down at your own words your eyes start hurting so bad that now you don't want to write it any more?

by Arcassin Burnham

Laced with my ambitions mixed with motivations and a teenage life that was forsaken like a
Frankenstein as a fail creation to the family members I thought would've had  my back though all
The troubles but they are the troubles in a world so potent to mind controlling and self-
Absorbing in breaking a focused Lord that only wants the best for all his children but the system
Says otherwise to prized possessions like peace in America where they spike what you eat and
Make a profit off the weak,
Blacks in America can't be leaders without corruption and greed and every step you take is
Mostly a bullet or on your knees especially desensitizing all the people to the wrong things in life
that'll make you **** just for some bling bringing kids and teens in hospitals to be adopted into
Worse families is the trade where money is the seed amplifying what you need collecting checks
Off of kids you don't need pinching the poor and defenseless to meet all demands thinking why
Is it that God doesn't take a stand.

Once,
a while ago,
we were
eagerly in love,
so, eagerly
we were in chains.

Once, we were members of a party.
Parts of a whole. A hopeless oath
of devotion to another, to durdle,
intimately, through the grandest lie.

Once, we were eagerly in chains.
(Now, contemptuous in disdain)
Once, we were excited to be.
(Now, that's just not what we're about)

Once, we were bonded in a gamble.

Now, we're barely willing bystanders,
no more an adventure, than it is
   a situation.