One thing I learned
in my long college career
is that
I don't know a thing

I cannot read minds
nor fix this world
I still fall back to
this broken poetry

The place to be
we thought as youth
though in this life
it's a choice we choose

where you desire to be
is a figment of reality
a plan so mismal
to the burning sun

What faith you lack,
oh guilty one
on this track of life
you chose death!

In this college degree
I learned to see
not through intellect
but through emptiness

Poetry flows like gentle tides
before a hurricane
her sandy shores
anticipate

Three jumps left
and two jumps right
the lord speaks
and I follow

Milk moonlight of divine delight
silky sheets of satin rose
nerves underneath
emit electricity
and birth

Lovers in my past
don't leave my mind
their faces exist
etched in time

Sink like a stone
through deep waters
fall to her blackness
and the dark sea's wonders

thin skin, a lighted hook
neon guppies glitter
in florescent
store light

Take heed when he calls
for the depressed ones
in your life
call

Always help
those in need
for you never know
when you, it could be

Solomon wrote
songs and poetry
they flowed from thought
as divine symphony
of what does this teach you of women?
Solomon had the most
of any man

Be true to yourself
and your dreams will come
not the dreams you've planned
but the one's- you stumble upon

While stone and flint my habitat
And paintings drawn our laminate
At waters edge by dawn I see
An atavistic human he

In robe and cloth I worship him
Despite my deadly human sin
At waters edge by morn I see
Repentant, somber human he

Through chain and mud my journey bound
A service to the king and crown
At waters edge by noon I see
The strength and will, of human he

Famine, fault and sorrow grows
A blackened drape of illness sows
At waters edge this time I see
A learned, almost human he

Brothers fall on Flanders Field,
That wound, still hurt, will never heal,
At waters edge by late I see
A catastrophic human he

By night we know our time is done,
Our lesson learned, our kingdom come
At waters edge this eve I see
The path of Human History

Fair to trust your covers
Trust worthy profiles, texts
Who knew the hidden tragedy
Judging a cover, the whole series
Let no troubles face till doom
This route is a little tough
Rough enough to move gently
Though I don't surrender
Buckle up even harder
Till the broken heart fixes
Its own way to empowerment
I seek revenge but I'll fail
Until then I'll have stories to tell
Lessons to spread and alert

it's a strange occurrence
hearing sirens pulsate through the rough brick walls of the silent still sanctuary on sunday mornings
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

the service doesn't stop and the sermon doesn't stop
but i can't help but wonder what would happen if they did
what would happen if we stopped worrying about our lives and started worrying about theirs - those who have been affected by that shrill call
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

why is it that we receive the honor of being safe inside when there are people suffering outside
how do we say a prayer for healing but go about our daily lives not thinking about what we hear right outside our windows
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

perhaps some people do let the sound interrupt their routine thoughts
are those the lucky few who are called angels?
it shouldn't be their job to save the world
if we let the warning resonate through our minds and not just through the rough brick walls then maybe sirens wouldn't be heard
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

how could you possibly sleep though the night knowing that the woman at the end of your bed is disappointed because you couldn't help her, because you are healthy and her children are dying, because you may not have a shelter from your own mind but at least you had a shelter from the world and that's more than she ever had? how could you possibly sleep soundly knowing that the woman in tatters at the end of your bed is crying for her lost love and the marriage she was forced to have who a man that saw her as nothing but a ****** for him to play with? how could you possibly sleep peacefully knowing that the woman in tears at the end of your bed is looking at you and wondering why you're alive and smiling while her children were thrown into a mass grave after her town was bombed by your own patriotic country? how could you sleep and not spend every waking moment caring for the poor woman at the end of your bed? how?

He is
unrequited
in what
her rival
delighted
and appears
forlorn to
unravel in
rap again
if idiosyncrasy
rules hearts
when tort
is subject
that results
in crime
a yearly
tragedy on
tap again.

Pedal to the floor
She prepares for flight
The roar of a gunshot
Ends the lady’s plight