I’m stuck at a crossroad,
where my mind, body and spirit are trying to meet.
They are trying to move at the same pace,
move on the same beat.
But they fail to do so.
They are always nearly in sync,
but they always stop in their tracks before meeting.
Almost like an acquaintance who looks familiar but you are hesitant to say hello.
That ‘hello’ never transpires,
that ‘hello’ never meets that familiar looking person,
just as my mind, body, and spirit never meet.

i met a boy today

with warm hands

and his fingers bumbled as

they passed me my change.

i don’t think i’ll see

him again.

but that’s okay.

Oh, but please spare my head of necessities
of the complexities
that are but trivial and non-existential
to the pursuit of living and thriving,
not in a pool of segregating ridden paper,
but in a bath of mentation and minds wide open.

And please bite your tongue,
when the lick of a serpent dances across your taste buds,
when you wish to deprive me that of a young mind
and youthful stride.

I do not wish to be at one with your negativity,
I wish to flee and sprint from your gloomy, pessimistic stint.
Rather, I invite you to join me in the pursuit of creativity,
to strive to leave your imprint,
of sheer, requited positivity.

But if you will,
without a plee,
I wish to help you swing with me
on practiced words and the fleet from stability,
I wish to take you on a stroll,
through and into the soul,
of nothing less than a dreamer,
of a hoper,
of someone so desperately fleeing
from the necessities of the complexities.

i like the little bits of you
the bits that no one gets to see

the half smile when you wake
the silent tear when you start to brake

your tired eyes at the end of the day
the delayed kisses before i go away

the things that go through your mind
the times you wish you could rewind

i love the little bits of you
the bits that no one get to see

i love that you save them for me

They brought me a quilled, yellow dahlia,
Opulent, flaunting.
Round gold
Flung out of a pale green stalk.
Round, ripe gold
Of maturity,
Meticulously frilled and flaming,
A fire-ball of proclamation:
Fecundity decked in staring yellow
For all the world to see.
They brought a quilled, yellow dahlia,
To me who am barren
Shall I send it to you,
You who have taken with you
All I once possessed?

Coffee and tea at the cafe of Christ
The Bible for breakfast
Slurping stories from ***** and Samuel
To Ezekial and Ezra.
Start your day the holy way with Christ chex.
Ahh. The breakfast of champions

I hate nature sometimes.
Like sugar plum fairies
We dance
Around each other
Waiting for something to happen
Over power. Over woman.
Falling to our primal instincts
We are better than that
We are more than that
I hate it.
The way we are stubborn.
We are too busy fighting.
Fighting time
Fighting fear
Fighting death
Fighting each other
The hands of the clock ticks away
Death wraps its warm arms around us
But that I suppose is why we dance