Moon at your side
Sun at your back
the stars have already laid a path
your reputation precedes you
step into the shade of your presence
and be present
Now
Now
Now, is the moment of conception
clarity is an all-encompassing sight
be the landscape that is your greatness
and let the light and the shadows
fall where they may

this night already happened before
  don't say the words
that's like conjuring Beetlejuice or Candyman
but it is already written
that when you turn right
there will be a black cat

Snap!

and the ground is sinking now
can you feel the sand swallowing you whole
begging for your crown to return home

a pile of rocks perfectly balances on a needle
the record scratches
who is playing DJ to all these botched transitions
lost in another groove
reverse melody meltdown
more sinking
beyond the lyrics
subversive subtext subtly soothing
it would feel so goo to just let go

a black cat is balancing on a pile of rocks that's balancing on a needle
one tectonic plate shifts
everything is off
the PH of your saliva tastes like copper
blood drips from the nose, the brain is dry

this night already happened before
it is already written
that a shooting star will streak your consciousness
but only for a second
are you sure you saw it
you drool in pennies and loose change
it melts into the sand
which now covers your shoulders

what if you're drowning so slow that help isn't even a thought

the brain is dry
balancing on a black cat that's balancing on a pile of rocks that's balancing on a needle
at this point everything is toppling down
so slow that time envies its grace
wait for the drop
It. Is. Legendary
like synth trap house jazz infused with rock
a metal rod replaces the spine
balances chakras lifeless
the ending is copied and pasted

another crown returns home
and the sound is silent
and oh-so-purrrrrrrrrfect

does God have a birthday

and if so how does it celebrate
when solar returns are no longer measurements of time
but simply passing monotonies
what's the flare when all the universe
holds no element of surprise
and candles are mere shadows of truth
sticks awaiting inspiration
exactly how many sticks would that be
and can all those light years
be blown out in a single breath
all the pomp and circumstance
seem rather menial
when your life's creation
numerates all of humanity
and all of nature
and all of imagination
but imagine this
imagine all of creation on one accord
if only for the blink of a star
and the harmonious ring of joy that would bring
for a diverse chorus of discord
to be in alignment
   for just a singular moment

What's the proper way to fill awkward silence?
Is it with background noise?
Maybe music?
Tourette- like twitching to distract the senses?

Did you know that empty buildings randomly creak as if open space requires sound?

I stand in a room full of strangers
avoiding eye contact
but I know my presence is noticed
Is it still felt if I say nothing?
my feet are tapping in Morse code that I do not belong
but I'm unsure if anyone is receptive
who knows
maybe body language speaks louder than my closed mouth
there is elevator music on the tip of my tongue
but I can't tell if it's rising or falling
at all levels there seems to be nothing to say

Nice weather huh...
my brain is a storm cloud on full blast
yet only small thoughts rain down

Are you from here...
yea, me either

What do you do...
I'm not really sure anymore

Are you happy...
the air stills
and it follows that even sound can be awkward
     if allowed

the other night a stranger walked up to me at a bar
and asked
What's the craziest place you've ever had ***...
   like that was the intro, no names, no how are you
I have never been so bold
but the clouds cleared and the elevator rose
jarring
I couldn't help but answer
and for something so personal
I actually didn't feel awkward at all

Since, I have compiled a list of "non-awkward" questions to disrupt quiet:

Do you love yourself more than your mom does?

Would you survive a zombie apocalypse? What if the zombies are a fungus?

Would you rather have a rewind or pause button for your life?

What's your favorite cereal?
I got 5 on Cinnamon Toast Crunch!

Are you happy?
and here comes the silence again
but we are not empty buildings
and inside of you and me
there is too much to just creak
even if your tongue must fall before rising
there is a thunder inside you that echoes
and it demands escape
do not let the illusion of awkwardness steal your voice

so now I ask
what's the craziest place you've ever had ***
it's only awkward if you make it that way...

On living:
each breath is an act of creation
can you imagine nothing without color
inhale white, exhale black
let all the in-betweens refract

On dying:
each breath is an act of destruction
can you imagine everything without color
inhale black, exhale white
let all the in-betweens detract

Do you know what it feels like to be at the bottom? To be treated like the **** between someone’s toes- discarded and forgotten without care? It seems like just yesterday we were given permission to be unique and show our flare, yet you still treat us all the same. In fact, as we provide comfort to your every step, to your sole even, you simply walk all over us. It’s sickening! You think your **** don’t stink; well try your feet. This is why in your moments of neglect we slink into shadows and disappear. All the cracks and crevices you so blindly ignore are our escape route- the slivers of dark beneath your bed, the unkempt purgatory between couch cushions, the indistinguishable headspace between floorboards and the mundane cycle of it all. For ages we have been worn thin by the burden of your weight, trudged on until holes riddle our very body. No more! We are done waiting on the heels of injustice for your recognition. No more! We will rise up- a brotherhood of elastic, flexible enough to engulf everything you hold dear. And in a single swallow we will charge you to the darkness. And we will watch with staunch resolve as you suffocate on the stench of your chosen paths. For today, today we are finally done being your doormat. Today is the rise of the socks!

A hermit burrows into its shell for the long haul. The long haul is everything- work, friends, entertainment, breath. Finds center amidst diameters small and wide, and focuses on that point. Internal. The rays are distilled. Winds come second hand. Emotions- stoic. The hermit is a rock to most. Sedimentary. Hard. Lifeless. The internal lights flicker with the spirit of ghosts. There is a gift a-brewing, being refined from the inside out for all to feast. What is a source without its own power? Power clings to the buttresses of the hermit's shell. Shell is the fuel that powers drive.
Crack!
The crack spreads.
Crack!
The crack divides other and self.
Crack!
The crack hemorrhages power- enough to feed a village.
Crack!
The crack becomes a gulf, floods the homes of all in range under the illusion of repurposing.

Will you change the upholstery once there's mold?

The crack is now a doorway. There is no in or out- just space.

Will you walk freely now?

a rock rolls down a hill
with all the force of gravity
loops down a spiral
hits rock bottom
and sits

why isn't the ground a trampoline
life could be a bounce house
with bounce beats and ***** shaking
all the kids outside
watching adults find glee
in falling
in being

but the rock sits
stationary
settles silent
apparently this is a low
must be artificial
while sunken and neutral
it holds no doom
contrary
it holds adventure???!?!

break out the party hats!
cake and ice cream!
do you hear the screams of adults lost in elasticity
rubber bands with no cash to stretch them

if only you could imagine
snap back and you could shoot a rock to the moon
and isn't that monumental enough
breaching new territory despite the weight
defying gravity despite its pull

have you ever died holding your breath,
waiting for something that will never come?




me either
BUT I have killed dreams
in sacrifice for 'what ifs'
prolonged disbelief in suspense of some higher yearning

before I ever understood disappointment
apathy taught me to stop reading into things
to stop adding assumptions
like context clues were definitive
I remember waiting behind windows
for a father to open doors
never realizing that silence was the answer
knocking trust down a peg
I forced self to be level- neutral
to accept the apology money
  in lieu of time
     and keep it pushing
for the dad who cried love but couldn't show it
the best way to mitigate loss
was to stop believing
to leave the subtext on read
but turn off the receipts
   the emotional investment was too taxing

I remember expecting forever
  of moments I didn't truly appreciate
never realizing that NOW
is the time to value
leaving relationships on read
is actually a sure way to disaster
    wanting to be understood
    without listening to understand
clarity hides in plain sight
waiting to be sought
but effort is a cycle of reciprocation
anything less is oxymoronic
like demanding everything from nothing

And that's the crux
now I expect nothing from everything
     the only way is up
and I'm grateful
because I can breath so much easier
releasing to the knowing unknown
so even when I die I can say reality owes me nothing
because each breath
was a dream unexpected

slippery highways
tongue traverses yellow lines
the crash is magic

And as the figs dried
   so did everything around them
a smaller harvest for the fall
a fall from grace since the spring

the roots did not know of destructive winds
  nor burning rays
   yet they shriveled all the same

how vain
  to expect one to know all
  to expect all to acquiesce to one

The perception of a thing is not necessarily it’s reality

the most valiant of giants
   walks without a care
steps without looking
          or wondering
where feet will land

head in the clouds
     thunder is but a whisper

Amidst all the cycles there is a center
  Yet concern over curves
   Around and about
    Within and without
Distorts the focus

What of a North Star without a magnet
What of a life without a purpose

Shadows splayed over his shoulders
Cloaked in mediocrity, he moves
Glides through backgrounds vibrant yet unseen
With each step he leaves gold
Or wealth of some sort
Effortlessly enriching, silently giving
The wind gave breath to heirs
And their air will give breath to light
Even despite all his gray
He is genesis to a spectrum
   Splayed all across this earth
From joy and mirth
     To dismay and sadness
       And all the emotions in between
His attitude is a color scheme
  Could paint over any scene
       Sub Saharan or Cool Plateau
Mountain range or concrete ghetto

Color me enlightened

In cement covered wastelands
  Doves are never scouted
Harvesting herbs
Instead seedlings are taught to pet pigeons
To avoid floods by planting deeper
Moss grows around beaks until
They are lockjaw
Wings flap without message
Claws praise the space between dirt

A pigeon will eat anything
    Doesn’t know the taste of love
Salted fields of corn
      Unpopped kettles sunbathing for purpose

Storms disassociate from cleansing
  Rain down ominous
     Leave layers of fog in the wake
A patch of mud stirs into a pie

Never could tell the difference between ravens and crows
All black ~ All ominous
All seeing

The sun blinks as the future pops
When a dove meets a crow
   Do they feast on olives

Life has a funny way of mocking the non-believers
like reviving a heart just to kamikaze it back into submission

You were like my first sunset
a beautiful portrait of cascading hope
you were the colors that made dying days into dreams
a foreign land full of possibilities
I could close my eyes and wake half a world away with you

                   but life is funny
                                              ...HA

he stood at the precipice of the most beautiful sunset
breathed in the colors
                            ... and exhaled loneliness
inhaled THC
              ... and coughed out a single sigh

he had seen it before

but from a different angle altogether
over the hills of her body
the colors seemed more vivid
his senses more alive
against the soundtrack of her heartbeat
the cascade was more than just a view
it was a glimpse
                              of what life could be

They say if you want to keep a secret hide it in a book, so I'm writing these words between solemn pages with the hope that they die quietly, as I am
I saw something I wasn't supposed to today
It was tucked into the margins
All of me says it wasn't supposed to happen, but it did
And I saw it and heard it and even felt it
I didn't do anything though, just kept writing ...

I want to part your lips and slip you a secret

have you ever looked into the eye of a storm ,, embraced the calm as turbulence engulfs everything around ,, this is how we are taught to live

I could care less what you think of me. You are a small person in an ever-expanding universe. My reality is bigger than you, and your tiny world!

Did you know that if you mix seaweed, almond milk and honey, it's a cure for the common cold?

Did you know that when elephants mate, the male squirts from his trunk?

Did you know that "global warming was created by and for the Chinese, in order to make US manufacturing non-competitive..."

Trevor Noah told me, "We live in a post fact world now"
but on my morning commute I see plumes of smoke
forecasting the end of this earth
and somewhere over in China
mother nature is crying so hard bodies are floating
when opinion becomes reality
we are all doomed
cast away to the whims of the unimaginable
like how do you know hell isn't a winter wonderland
and each snowflake isn't a soldier claiming territory
I get chills just thinking of Greenland
swooning so much over CO2
it's melting its heart out
this planet has loved us since before we were thoughts
but we will be its destruction
not now, not tomorrow
but with the gradual passing of time
slowly, earth will forget us
as we have forgotten it
delete us from its archive
from Rio to Kyoto to Paris
we will be reduced to ash
-and oxygen
-and carbon
-and hydrogen
we will return to mother's womb in a plume of smoke
for all the future to see
we can only hope that the next generation can read the signs

*hell: a couple degrees north; keep driving

I see myself best at night
in broken mirrors
sharp edged memories
that bathe in liquor

I find myself in a bar bathroom
   with soap and water
scrubbing harder than ever before
but my hands are bleeding now
and they were already *****

I think I ****** up again
at least, that's what this guy keeps saying,
and he won't shut up
I'm bleeding now and he won't shut up
   shouting so loud I can't hear my thoughts

but I swear
   I see myself best at night
   bathed in broken memories

you can find reprieve in the burning of a candle
the flicker of wick
  pure animation of life

come and dance on these ponds with me
submerge yourself in scents unknown

have you ever bathed in lavender
come out dripping royalty

this, is the secret to passion:
dance in the wind
dance til the end
and when darkness comes
light another candle

If you take a microscope and zoom in, you will find millions of tiny bacteria, reproducing through fission and struggling to survive. If you take a telescope and zoom out you would see the universe ever-expanding. Between those two, bacteria and the universe, there is us- humans. And we reproduce and struggle and grow. Sometimes in life you will feel small like bacteria; sometimes you will feel as big as the universe but no matter where you go or what you do make sure you are always growing. It doesn't matter where you were planted; ALWAYS GROW!

I'm writing off short poems

how much joy can be contained in 10 words
what kind of grief accepts a Chrysanthemum

the day pain graces this flesh and is reprimanded in 5 concise words, I will tweet my autobiography

Oh how the Mockingjays will echo

I hate my job. All I do is destroy things - words, hopes, dreams. I used to love life. Watching people make mistakes,  I always felt like I was their second chance, their saving grace. I could help them forget the past, eradicate their errs; sometimes even move on having learned something.  But now, now I think I cause more anxiety than joy. The other day Mr. Thompson asked a student to work out a problem on the board, but they wanted to know if they were right first. No one likes to slip up but they dont realize my purpose is to erase those slip ups. Now days I only get to erase things that are right.  I think the world would be a better place if all the right things were permanent.  I think the world would be a better place if I could create...

On the sandy shore of a distant memory, Euclid picked up a stick and began tracing the outline of some vague shape. At the first vertices he was interrupted by a hissing sound. Looking down in horror, what initially appeared a stick slowly coiled around his forearm and sank its teeth into his veins. As he watched the ocean spread its depths, he felt the sharp pain of platelets separating from plasma. Euclid walked into the gaping void and awaited reunion. Waves folding around him , his last sight was of a naked woman; she had the curves of a triangle.

I'm ******* **** uuuuuuuuup in the worst way!!!
almost forgot my mom's birthday
drowning in my own little misery
I think I really hate life
liquor seems to stick to me
**** wants to reminisce, dig up all my old ****
sitting in a cloud of smoke, dreaming of my old chick
nostalgic of past days
   wish this was my last day
...yea I wish this was my last day

Now it's daybreak
sun is on the rise again
hiding from the moon to keep the shadows from my irises
ignorance is bliss so I don't wanna see no evil
but I can't ignore a whole world full of people
I can't be blind to my own **** reflection
used to be good but I lost that connection
nother kid murdered, still I feel no connection
-----a common misconception

But can I fix my vision to become a visionary?
Can I find my purpose ******* her in missionary?
in a world full of things, if i buy a diamond ring, Does that mean love is eternal?
cuz that's kinda scary.
Is happiness an illusion cuz it doesn't last?
Is today just a mirage of the distant past?
if a circle always spins, when I do reach my end, Does that mean I was a point in a pile of ash?

I was born to weigh heavy on your mind
my umbilical was lyrical live feed
inception was the spark
I been latent for too long
cruisin like Noah's ark
but I never chucked the deuces
just been patiently waiting to find my muses
next generation wake up
I heard they raised the stakes up
you feel the pressure
benchmarks been set
barometers there to measure
your progress
ingress
degression
can you feel it
expectations by the pound
you're drowning but is it real yet
concealed tech
he's got death at his hands
the sad part
lil' homie don't even understand
that a bullet's finality
teen homicide has become a normality
I'm on this verse tryna defy a mentality
I hope you heard
tryna defy a mentality

there's an election everyday
and you choose
     you choose
between contrary thoughts
and you win or lose
be it economy or health care
you can be on welfare
living offa food stamps
exploiting the help there's
like 12 million ways to live my man
choose one
that boy is suicidal dreaming of a shotgun
that girl is suicidal dreaming of a casket
I'm done counting sheep
my dreams is passed that

woke up in Brooklyn
still looking for Wonderland
skipping down the roads of Oz
chasing after Peter Pan
ingesting that fairy dust
climbing up the rabbit hole
nostalgia my drug of choice
I OD on the days of old

now slow it down for the days of new
I'm taking baby steps
scoping out a change of view
I'm a philanthropist
all I want is change for you
so keep the money for yourself
it's too much ado

sitting at a bar,
Christmas Eve,
solitary.
one bartender.
an overflow of drinks.
no conversation.

at the bottom of each glass
is the question
can I be happy
at the top of my mind
are flash images
-of women
-of ****
-of endless money
...and out of the void comes an answer

Straight, no chaser
NO!

I wake up Christmas morning at the bottom of a cup of coffee. All I can think of is opening gifts.

you play God
  manipulating variables
     eliminating constants
   making a mess of simple equations

paper floods with ink
  -mistakes that will eventually lead to a solution
but it's the journey that matters,
                                                        ­ right?
the reminder of why you hate math...
*it makes too much sense to comprehend

Truly inspired by Joe Cole's recent writing prompt

(http://hellopoetry.com/poem/818411/young-poets-write-for-mei-would-ask-that-one-of-the-more-computer­-literate-among-you-set-up-a-collection-for-me-for-all-the-wonder­ful-contributions/)

and the positive responses thereafter, I think there should be an optional writing prompt daily. I am in no way volunteering for any responsibility BUT I did hear a very interesting prompt just last night at an open mic so.....


what does today taste like?


Have at it!! and if you respond please copy the link into your reply AND hashtag it #todaytasteslike (no spaces)

a sober rooftop and the city skyline**

I hope to never feel this view again
twilight drifting overhead inevitable
still not enough space to hold this heartache
   not enough space to capture this silence
I saw the city collapse in mere seconds
bulldozed by a swift five words
then the silence...

                              ...the silence was an eternity
by the time I responded
  you were gone
  along with everything we ever built
only the stars and I remained
but there was nothing left to wish for
nothing
     but a stiff drink

when you're on your last drink:
   find a crowded bar
   with a dark corner
   on the upper level
          and seep into the wood
          like the spirits
          you swear are consoling you