The stories we live
are bound beneath
the covers of land and sky
and the days in between
are the pages
from hello to our goodbye
Each turning sun
brings a new day
closer to the hour
Where all good things
must come to a close
when death holds the power
We scratch our name
in the dirt and dust, till wind
blows away existence
leaving behind
scraps of our mind
and fragments of our presence
To toil much and embed a mark
only in soiled strife
is vanity to have had a name
not etched in the book of life

I once had vanity
searching for my likeness
in shop windows
looking for my place in the world
a glimpse of what others saw
in shaving mirrors
every morning
willing unwilling hair to grow
prove my manhood
see what I'd become

my gaze is focused earthward now
unshaven face unruly hair
no longer need for bathroom encounters
although reflected in mans shiny surfaces
a vampiric absence is all I witness
I looked too deep into that empty space
I occupied within my race
no longer seeking to fit in
I've become an outlaw mortal sin

Though I style my curly braids with ribbons bright,
and colour my sweet moist lips with royal red
to look as bright and fair as a newly wed.
Though I stand on two towers to get a better height,
with eyelashes that beckon at each gazer.
Though my trendy gowns make me a trailblazer
with great designer labels that distinguish.
Though I have curves which men wished they could relish,
revealed slightly through my ******* clad frame.
Though I have this charm which could hardened hearts tame,
making vicious criminals to dream and lust,
still I am nothing more than organic dust.

A firework
Of brightest colours
Dances slow
Beneath the stars
Torches and candles
Iron braziers' light
Glowing warm
In blue midnight
Gowns of silk
Fineries of all kind
Whirling in solemnity
"A dance, do you mind?"
A thousand miles from sorrow
High society indeed
La crème de la crème
The very best of breed
Extravagance never is
Too extra for those ladies fair
Gossiping girls, all of them
"Oh, look, this lady's hair!..."
Gentlemen bowing
Talking with hushed voices
Trading, socializing
Polite merchants' noises
"This daughter of mine,
She might well catch your eye..."
This just a market of brides n' grooms
An exchange, !!one truth for a hundred lies!!
Gossip girls and merchants noble
Less n' less real knights and dames
Nobility used to mean heroes, and protection
But long extinct, those once bright flames
The only light there, now,
Comes from a stake pile in the debris
Burning bright, but in truth all hollow
This great bonfire of vanities

Don’t hide me in a shoe box
only in shoes fit for a king
I’m just a poor man walking
in rich men’s things
like the checkered jacket I’m wearing
the vinyl bag, tarnished rings
I’m just a poor man walking
in a rich man’s things
yet, there ain’t no way of knowing
how rich I am, that be true
unless you look down on me
smudge the shine right off me shoe
yeah, there ain’t no way of hiding
me pride or anything
when I pull out to dangle
a rusty gold watch, and silver tin
where I keep fine stained paper
and my tobacco rolled in
Like I say, me brother
I’m just a poor man walking
in a rich man’s things
among the high class dining
treating myself to their bin
I’m just a poor man walking
in rich men’s things
yes, I’m living the life
and nothing stopping
living every man’s dream
till I’m another poor man
in a coffin, with a chauffeur
in a black limousine

I burn
beautifully in the
fires of
vanity

I got lost
in my reflection
on the
frozen foods
doors

I was
displayed
with all the other
products
on ice:

three fifty-nine
for four
egg rolls

six twenty-nine
for frozen
bread dough

six ninety-nine
for wild
blueberries

and
superimposed
among them
my long mug
doing its best
to fit in

according to my
forehead
I am
three ninety-nine

but if you
ask my solar
plexus
I'm clearly marked
five fifty-nine

however,
my **** is apparently
on clearance
reduced by thirty
percent and
selling for
one dollar and
nineteen cents

and that old lady
at the end of the aisle
is eyeing
my biscuits
and rattling
her coin purse
like she's about to
roll
a yahtzee

my eyes dart
back to
my reflection
on the doors

what did I
come here
for again?

although
we have eyes
and
it is said
"the eyes make the mind",
in this life
we don't really see no one,

absorbed by ourselves
we notice the others
only then
when their weaknesses catch our eyes,

vanity,
fear, - is a cloudy glass
through which we look at those around us,

rarely,
here and there
two people
undress in the fire of love
burning the blurry layers,

- in the light of the fire
empty hearts can see
the nakedness of the newborn.

My girl likes little things
not the big things of value
or baggy big like Jeans
But short skirts and tight tops
Little shorts and flip flops
with high hopes,
but little dreams

My girl likes little things
Not big things or deep
Little things like lipstick
The comments on her self pics
The brand of her breeches  
The right lace on her sneakers
My girl likes little things
Not the things
too heavy to keep

My girl likes little things
Not the big and the weighty
Just the little things shiny
like an iPhone glittering
the right tone on the dial ring
a cover case with the right bling
Almost everything
And anything
not significantly big

My girl likes little things
nothing seriously grand
little things, like small talk
A nice sweet short walk
Even holding hands
among other little things
If there’s room for my fingers
beside her diamond rings

Painful embers stab the dark
Of pain too rich to bear
Callous flames, beguile a heart
Left stained by acrid air
Dreams denied by rancid thoughts
On lips too vain to care
Lifetimes lost in frozen eyes
A soul beyond repair