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

I break spines with ease
Finger pages
Lick lifeless words to ******

   Promiscuous bibliophile
I sleep with a band of books
Every night
Caressing words between sheets
Discovering perspective
In the margins
Reading is so sensual

My dreams are an **** of imagery
Subconscious hodgepodge of
Fiction     History     Poetry   &   Prose
Last night I dreamt of…





                                            Well I forgot
                   But I do remember the feeling
   Of flying
                       Between this and that

election to snooze
noon will mock extra slumber
morning routine start

I.
Condensedwords
Stackedandpresseddown
Stackedandpresseddown
Wei­ght sinks to the bottom
Structure becomes dependent
On prepositions and conjunctions
On loose articles of understanding
A book is built      pages of sentences
What happens when you remove   single word

What happens when   solitary page is ripped
         standing is compromised     brevity’s sake
It all falls


II.
[from] [a] [What happens when you omit a whole sentence] [a] [out] [under] [for] [down]

books reduce
                       TITANS to men
          turn mountains into hills skipped over
in seconds
look what man has made of God
a jealous judgmental father
        with a brooding brow

history has taken the legend out of myth
check Atlas
          all the heavens rounded down into
          a boulder
          small enough for shoulder blades
                   stars condensed into marble
                   light enough for man's chiseled hands

we are not here to hold up the world
that's just a lie circulating the globe
we are on this earth to hold up stardust

we haven't sat
          and watched clouds
                    drift
    in years



               stillness



as simple things take shape
then dissipate
rain on the horizon
gray mist descending
   from silver thoughts
the sun takes cover
behind a puffy blanket
for a needed nap

close eyes and release

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 him enlightened

the inner sanctum is a tea shop
surrounded by rainbow rivers
dewdrop magenta
meets turquoise in a whirlpool
and there in that triangle
salmon stop swimming
how long can you stay current
before a rapid takes you

the pour rains from on high
slow and sloppy
the whole world is a mess
  if we tell it
       the raven squawks
       but no one listens
       the kettle calls the *** black
       but there is no witness

as a golden pyramid splits in half
what new shape is this
when the spirit bows to flesh
and the mind spirals out of control
   there are countless leaks
   in the crack(ed) ***
cumulus streaks evaporate out
as a dragon
-wooden and rustic
emerges from the mist

flying sage
forefather of mystic
the words have steeped too long
settled into a bland blend
     when you pour out
     can you taste the difference

the ever-distracting daydream is a form of presence
   says the window
my hand unconsciously doodles
before averting back to words



if I were a poem
I would be everything
  in between the letters
unseen and often misunderstood
to feel me
    you need to let go
of meaning
           float off paper
     beyond lines
through open airwaves
   don't try to read me
   I need to be heard

if I were a poem
            [wait what]

if I were a poem
            [yo, did you hear that]

if I were a poem
my stanzas would be disjointed puzzle pieces
horcruxes spread to different verses
each with a fractal of spirit
  but never the whole
put me together at the end
for the big picture
    I wouldn't make sense along the way
I would hold magic in my brokeness
enough power in my message to build
  ...and destroy
      ...and rebuild again

there would be so many gaps
you would wonder where the years went
  come and go as they please
I would only speak when silence requested
my composition would paint
           Surreal Renaissance Futurism
                     yea... make that make sense...

if I were a poem
I would allude to imaginary numbers
and friends
fictitious characters and places
just outside that window pane
            like [c'mon you saw that]

side-quest-obsessed
catch me on a tangent
lost in a daze
   days     hours     minutes     seconds
catch me relative
just like the hands of time

if I were a poem
I would require second chances
  over and over and over again
but I'd be worth it
  be worth the suspended disbelief
just for the amusement of it all

if I were a poem...

g@#dgvxdbyhix&*u@ggcuybbdjhgus$%

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

eyes seek out beauty
and find it everywhere
   lust is appreciation of form
I was never taught attraction
                                  it pulls nonetheless
    tugs at my urges
       ecstasy touch
   my body is a drug
                           to be indulged

my body calls to me
from all its centers of pleasure
my hand is an activator
of everything right
when I erupt
    the sacral rejoices
the world becomes a cloud
                                  a soft landing
somewhere to hold my highs in reverence

pleasure
I am so pleased to meet you
                                                  again
     ­                                                        & again
                                                           ­                & again

The future is today

Millennials think in centuries
when decades pass in a blink

A year gives 31,536,000 seconds to wait
but not a single minute to waste

Time is money they say
and what millennial
                       doesn’t want to
                                               be a millionaire

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

submerged under peppermint bubbles
  cortex muddled by damp ears
I reach out and touch a flower
     as it whirlpools around intention

     in this manmade lake
I have made of myself an island
  limbs sinking and reappearing
  my face disappears
  and returns renewed

      this whole time I wasn't breathing
the drain excavates water
   for buoyed relics of responsibility
the weight of life
latches onto my exhale

         release         release         release

I will be whole in this lifetime

I rise with vestiges of beauty
     clinging to my essence
         freedom is assured

When she first walked through the door
She was a Ghanaian priestess
A titan
Large and mythical and unbelievable
Her eyes held mystery
Deeper than poetry
And her walk
More grace than a royal procession
I can’t believe she looked at me

She sat detached from the lights
The crowd, the noise, the libations
Her presence was louder
I felt every inch of separation
Wanting distance to shrink
Wanting her eyes to question me
I can’t believe I talked to her

Weak prose and memorized verse
Why hadn’t I written something new
Of dreams with answers
Words that could entice her sight
Instead I opened a window
And shared a simple view
I really wanted to bust down a door
Or demolish a wall
Or flatten a building
As sacred space for her feet
I can’t believe I got her number

Insightful reels and pics
Over analytical data
Assumption of interests and realms occupied
I think she rose from the ocean’s depths
To swallow the earth whole
Or rebirth it
All this from 10 minutes
How exactly do light years condense
Into such time
I can’t believe she said yes to a date

Ears swoon at her voice
Tongue delights in sushi rolls
Heart pounds at something
I am unable to admit
I wish for more time to sip her tea
To savor her umami
I go in for the hug and omit my lust
I can’t believe I didn’t go for the kiss
I can’t believe I didn’t go for the kiss
I can’t believe she said yes to a second date

In a foreign house
with more comfort than my own
Fung shei challenging chaotic thoughts
Chaotic thoughts racing through her unknowns
A touch to feed her laugh
A look to feed my longing
My lips to her lips
In a time outside of time
When chaos and order dance together
I can’t believe I’m falling
I can’t believe I’m falling
I can’t believe I’m falling
But my stomach knows this feeling
And my heart knows this pace

I can’t believe I found her
In another lifetime
She can’t believe I ever left

what’s a legacy to an ever-spinning web
    an apathetic world
               already on to the next meme
a laugh can last longer than
  an     entire     life’s     catalogue
impact buried under coded language
and refreshing trends

if a spider cared
it would wrap its prayers in silk
   before spewing its insides
the net is wider than floating words
        or hollow deeds
                                     **** your ego

we are only passing through
              dust     to     dust
in death we are nothing

when abolish the police gets a platform at the open mic…

a suggestion turns into dialogue
                  into a debate
                                                 into shouts
                and chaos reforms into huddles

anarchy claims the analog   —   BLARING
              (all of this in mere seconds)

the notes are discord to the ear
                   but joy to the heart

the revolution will not be televised
but it will be projected
                    in the underbelly of some open mic

the guttural sound of grief cleared its throat
all forgotten will be recovered
in sentiment
sentient emotion
evocative cries
the river dies at the ocean and reincarnates
so it is with words and poetry
a recycling to circle back
a replenishing to continue filling
prose be the restitution of cosmic karma
dust reclaiming its birthright

                               everything
                                                                                everything
            everything

I've heard verses set against verses
for the sake of thrones
dust says
                 verses are the natural material of power
decanted led
                         purified gold
a heavy mineral
the foundation of understanding

art cut its ear
and the heart still bled
red   -   blue   -   violet
a primary mixing you can feel
without senses
     listen with bone and marrow
     see what shakes the sinew
     taste the transience of life       in living color
      orange and yellow and green
     smell the salt, it lives in you
     evaporates through goosebumps to be felt by others

you can write yourself to nirvana
if you go through the stages
  if you shed enough stanzas
   if you surrender       and accept

go ahead
                                          quantify freedom
               derive a pattern of joy
                                                           from the things you consume

r they correlated
1 could be whole
                  without the void of comparison

there is more b   l   a   n   k     s   p   a   c   e
                                       than clutter
  can you find it
           does its empty detract

do not fill it
                         I beg of you
let the world rest
                               and find itself

thoughts move on without me
old train, new platform
my backpack quivers in abandonment
     left with no back to support it
i keep forgetting the weight i carry

today is yesterday's hope
    but tomorrow
           tomorrow holds everything the past
hasn't seen

an oracle says omens
                                      are constantly presenting
if you just look
                             or listen

I've been looking all my life
and the message is clear
        tomorrow
        tomorrow will be my day
as soon as the clock strikes 13
                    it's my time

mom says safety and security are key
teacher says Maslow's hierarchy agrees
boss says money supplies all my needs
and I listen

I've been listening all my life
and the message is clear
job, girlfriend and car secured
renting but my space is home
owe 31,000 in student loans
but that degree, I own

fact check anyone with a fatter check
knowledge is an expensive throne

On the other side of fear is greatness
on the other side of greatness is [___]



the thing about lines is they never end
always polarizing into two sides
that gain assurance in contrast
                 who are you without comparison

this life is geometry
characterized by curves and endings
by spontaneous turns
   that neglect signs
signal right
                      and
                               turn left

when the crash comes
there's a thin line between life and death
             (that's how the unconscious paints it)
but thin lines are the easiest
  to blend             blur
         sometimes even erase

I died last night in a dream
and awoke to a nightmare
  it was a thin line I didn't want to cross
but intersections aren't always marked
and crossing isn't always a choice

I X'ed out my ex and now
I'm not sure who I am
   or why I ex-ist

sometimes an intersection is
a new origin
   and axes rotate naturally
       to create novel planes
a transmigration of the soul

on the other side of reality is reality
          question this
make curiosity of this point
  but don't stand on it
the intervals of change may shift
but change is the word
     the rule
     the ruler by which measurement comes
mark my words
on the other side of fear is greatness
and on the other side of greatness is    t h e   u  n  k  n  o  w  n

keep changing
something always looks like nothing from far away

before i had
i wanted
before i wanted
i lacked

                                   there is still poverty in achievement
                                   shiny things have pockets of their own
                                   cavities deep with desire
                                   ravenous with dissatisfaction

Logic tries to guide me
I slip on fallacies
                                                                                   Intuition releases me
                                                                                   I float unsure

an odd pairing can age well
                  with the right conditions

Challah and Feta
Roti and Mozzarella
every dry bread has its own sour cheese

compliments to the flour
    that rose to the occasion
                        to the curd
    that ripened into a match
the loving all started with respect
respect
because pallets don’t have to be the same
to be appreciated
sometimes opposites attract
  and it’s the perfect blend
               of talker and listener
               of traveler and homebody
               of brain and heart

sweet and savory
is a combo for the ages
so why not Sourdough and Swiss
               or a NYC Bagel and Gouda
when there are equal parts trust
there is no limit to the love
   says 2 successful careers
      says 3 grown kids
         says 50 years of marriage
the secret
is never going to bed angry
with each other
  is knowing when you’re wrong
  and admitting it                      (just a lil my bad)
    is keeping god in the family
    and the family in god
      so even when life curdles
        it is just a reshaping
          and not a crumbling

an odd pairing can age well
with the right conditions
     50 years later
and here we are toasting
  to an endless love
                  to the perfect bun and cheese
                        Happy Anniversary!!

this is all I can do to stop the words
the anticipation of something great
      or disappointing
I hope the former

my stomach is a pit
that deepens with each  l  o  o  s  e  breath
diaphragm creates space for love
and pain
unsure of which will last longer

I cannot see your face
but I can picture your desire
it is mirrored in my eyes
clears a home in my mouth
though unspoken

I want to part your lips and slip you a secret
   I want you more than my form can hold

can we melt together
is this too much to ask for the first time
if so              I can stop the words
   (their expression, at least
not their existence)

I been drifting round for lifetimes
seeking found on shores unknown
weeds a'tangle, castles tower
all I want is to lie down

They say nature is our mother
moon a clock of ever change
try so hard to never waiver
steady tides wash in so blue

Rush and crash, break and swell
may be time to set new sails
rest on winds call it adventure
wake on dust not mine to claim

Sun a beam of hope unlost
do it all without a cause
found a lotus in the blinding
cresting waves ignore the fall

Rush and crash, break and swell
may be time to set new sails
rest on winds call it adventure
wake on dust not mine to claim

i smoked that ego down like a pack
it's still fuming
fumigating the room
clearing out space
coughing out lungs

can you see through the fog of your own *******

your hair is on fire
can you even smell yourself
     small talk and *******
will tomorrow remember tonight
        it's all for a story right?
  but can you connect the next line

her voicemail asks my favorite *** position
caller #9 ~ maybe we'll get lucky next time
life of the party
dying to be the story
  that no one can forget

ego is a roach
trampled by music

I been wandering aimless
and peeping the synchronicities
I been reading other's words
and deciphering my truth
I been tutoring the youth
and learning from their mentorship
I been slinking out               [of relation-ships]
and treading in myself
I been sitting in silence
and feeling through the noise
I been abstaining from my vices
but creating new distractions
                                                    ­  I been making new playlists
                                                      a­nd blending the genres
                                                      I been triple checking accounts
                                                      an­d noting the trends
                                                      I been avoiding top priorities
                                                      ­and focusing on side quests
                                                      I been writing off the future
but deepening in the now
I been sharing the best of me
while keeping solitude with my shadows
I been becoming my higher self
day by
              day
                      by day
curating a person I can be proud of
                                                              ­ /proud for
I been
and will be

"Always we begin again." ~ St. Benedict

zero is the loneliest number
because it's empty
   -a hole for filling
but if you change your perspective
       the bottom can be the top

the first sign of growth
                      was a hair
     nothing impressive
    just a single strand
   breaking the surface
  in search of freedom
but that didn't stand for long

isolation gave way to conformity
as the grades came
    hair after hair
clumps         communities         culture
strands bowing under brush
parting        under        comb
hair can be tamed like anything else
duress, product and consistency
             wash   rinse   repeat
duress, product and consistency

never was one for riding waves
waved goodbye to that trend long ago
                                                             ­         grew past it
and figured nature knew best
knew how to sprout and flourish on its own
if left unattended

a bush was a phase                                             until it wasn't
shaved down to a surface
                                                     -fla­t-
something to sit atop and add flair
still couldn't much care
   guess I was a factor
but there was still no product

then society issued a dare
I double, triple dog dare you...
                                                          ­to be
and that was the impetus
because I have always been
  regardless of form
hair shed singularity
         knotted to bond
    condensed into a twist
          that bound memory and experience
                               into a journey of self-exploration

and I suppose the true journey started
long before I remember
  but palm rolls have traced lines to their origin
  roots below the surface recognized
  and left to their own design
twisters locked in dust   lent   dandruff
                         and core
all misjudged together
      how long can you go without censoring yourself?

I grew and grew and was and am and will be
         for 6 years 5 months and 18 days
         I was locked and loaded for self
zero was lifetimes ago
         ages prior to confidence
the mane does not make the lion
      but it certainly helps
I took a pilgrimage within a pilgrimage
made a metta meditation of movement
   before I knew love's true touch
                                                          a­nd then
            when head needed it the most
                                                            ­                                dread vanished
and made way for a universe

of all the memories created to forget
                 touch is the most lasting
the scalp is still anointed
from oil years past
                                                            ­   when scissors did meet
life shook with a force renewed
  and shed bare all that was needed

I was born with nothing
now ???  years ?? months and ? days later
I am yet again at zero
  but now, I know
it's not on me
                           it's in me

they come a penny a dozen
cheap
           copper
                        thoughts
there's a well full                                             ...somewhere...
but no one is thirsty for water anymore
so much Ciroc and Moscato
poppin' bottles and *****
poppin caps and pills
we've subbed out dreams for quick thrills
   eyes open or closed - I'm swimming
but no copper in my goals
I want gold  platinum        DIAMONDS
pay me well and I will sell you my well
full of watered down birthday cake
and wrinkled candles
those flames were blown out with childhood

the kitchen table is set
     is perpetually set
with glued on utensils and fine China
bowls poured into with empty calories
and                    emptier words
we are accustomed to paper plates
and one off exchanges
        to using things and
          throwing them away

open palms release
rivers of clenched fists

face them upward

the sky rains down more than you need
   alms for wounds
   levity for burdens

again
always we begin
the zenith
becomes a zero
a hill becomes
a mountain
ascent is a gradual unbecoming
I am nothing
again
always we begin

I found a portal in a dream
Slipped into a slit
Then came so fast
i lost track of singularity

dark rooms and lit paths
sound bathing in the ether/
took a few C notes
for me to recognize the leader/
transpose a new crown
without need for a feature/
the man in the mirror ain't lost
he just a seeker/
secret- what always was
will always be/
kami knows the infinite flow
of inner ki/
energy never dies
just recycles like the rain in the sky/
reduced views get reused
in a cycle of tries/
try try try
try try fail/
took a couple iterations
for the lost to prevail/
exhales and deep sighs
I was numbing my feels/
in clouds of **** smoke
I was blind to the fields/
of opportunity
blessings and deep roots of unity/
singular in motion but narrow-minded
my view could see/
destination
but not the alternate routes/
on a mission for success
I was chasing the clout/
side quest- ion
is a life well spent if you never save/
if you hustle
and grind bones until your dying days/
the grave swallows all time
with an infinite hunger/
crunch seconds into moments
that exist without numbers/

it's crunch time
yea it's time to chew out fear/
it's crunch time
how much change can come in a year/
it's crunch time
how do swallows fly so free/
digest notes
reproduce a whole symphony

it didn't start as a counting
1 had no more purpose than 0
I felt whole before awareness
          consciousness is a rolling pen
          stumbling through ellipses...
now
       sentences serve as benchmarks

incidentally     I am building to something
incrementally     I am cramming margins with loose pennies
          indented     new paragraphs detract from my sum
          indentured     no change comes from this work

  t   h   e   s   e     w   o   r   d   s     s   p   r   e   a   d     h   o   l   l   o   w
consumed space                                                         an empty metric

as it stands     I am at 77 words
yet no further than when I started
       sometimes the goal is a ploy
I am hemming myself in with empty
periods are a euphemism.

the journey is recursive
took this road many-a-times
more rerun than detour
forgotten lessons faded on aluminum
                             etch harder next time
hard hitting truths don’t even hit anymore
memory is false knowledge                             unreliable
instead follow the dreams
they have plotted the path
  in stardust
                        and
                            ­     astral projections
those are big constellations to fill
i walk bare sole now
so why are my steps still timid?

walls keep appearing
am I a prisoner
  or the warden
am I protected
  or locked in
what's on the other side of separation?

    all of life has been
    a building up
    to no end
    but self-improvement is *******

under the preface of safety
my reality is circumscribed in fear
I've created freedom in my restrictions
but I am still shackled   .   .   .   .   .   to something
growth doesn't even feel good anymore
maybe self-destruction is the answer
a means of leveling out

        walls keep appearing
        but now
        I am taking a sledgehammer to structure
        I am mortaring every brick
                          until I am a flatland of freedom