Who
          wh          wh          who
     What
          When
Where
          wh          wh          where­
     Why
          How

if life was a sentence it would end in a question mark
no judge setting bail
just animals caged in the medulla
stuck in query
                    asking
WHO am I
     WHAT is my purpose
          ...WHEN is my deadline...
                  WHERE am I going
                         WHY am I asking all these questions
and HOW, HOW the **** do I do this right

10,001 steps beyond exhaustion
the body crumples into a heap
trash or treasure ~ depends on the observer
not everything with value is valued
a crescent moon of hope in the lungs
what will the next breath produce
when still chasing completion
in cycles unending
another step? perhaps for show?
the will is waning
the destination reached
time and time again
new goal- another step
remove the oxygen this time
breath only expectations
hinge on the exhale of results

Here we go!     <step>
into yesterday's half effort
competing for the highest version of happiness
WhaT iS HaPPiNesS
   a buffering rainbow spiraling amidst rainclouds
the feet trudge through mud
tracking desire along an otherwise peaceful path
why can't the mind   and   body
just be still
HERE
10,002 steps beyond exhaustion
sit, and be whole
the treasure has always been here

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

Do not fret for the future

you'll never get any further into it

          than right now

                                             or now

                              or now

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
     he wrote a poem
And he called it 'Chops'
     because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
     and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
     and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
     took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
     with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed alot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
     Valentine signed with a row of X's
     and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
     he wrote a poem
And he called it 'Autumn'
     because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
     and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
     because of its new paint
And the kids told him
     that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
     with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
     when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
     his mother and father kissed alot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
     when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
     he wrote a poem
And he called it 'Innocence: A Question'
     because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
     and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
     because he never showed her
That was the year Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
     of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
     making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
     or even talked
And the girl around the corner
     wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
     but he kissed her anyway
     because that was the thing to do
And at 3am he tucked himself into bed
     his father snoring soundly.

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
     he tried another poem
And he called it 'Absolutely Nothing'
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each ****** wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
     because this time he didn't think
     he could reach the kitchen

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!

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

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)

I am steadily thinning
             light blues holding me together
                                                      tr­ying to
  a rambling wisp
                     nebulous and airy
I want to puff out my chest
    be abstract art
                              for your interpretation

  I look down at you
                         as you look up
                                                        I am dying
such is the cycle off it all
            I hope
                              simply
                       ­   that in my shedding
                                                     you will prosper
                  that when I rain down
                                                    you will catch me

or try to

I could see myself clear before
  the distortion of time
warped perspective has taught me
  sight is unreliable

wrinkles and greying hairs
smile lines and dimming irises
  age betrays position

some reflections breed only hate
  but I want to feel pride in growth
in observing tradition
  there are cracks in my face

the mirror in the distance
holds my ancestors' disposition
                                                     ­              is that a grimace or a grin?

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 ...

Peace.                 Peace- short lived
Boredom.                Boredom- soon come


A hum.     A chirp.     A shattering of glass.
Questions. Questions. More questions.
Rampant questions. Barraging questions.
Stillness       stirs muddy
Strained mixing of unknown content
Syrupy. Thick. Sticky and difficult to wade through.
Questions.     Answer. More questions.
Distressed confusion.


Silence- uncomfortable.
Stillness- uncomfortable.
A thrashing of drums. A clashing of symbols.     A chirp.
Noise for noise’s sake.

Say something! It’s too quiet in here
Talk to me. Talk at me. Say something
A conversation about everything.
A conversation about nothing.
A chirp.




A chirp.



Aren’t you glad I didn’t just stand here in silence for a minute?

An archeology of silence.
Peace.                 Peace- short lived
Boredom.                Boredom- soon come

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

hours wasted in idle threat
I said I would do something
I said I would wring these words
   until they pooped a diamond
and instead of selling it
I would share it with the world

but the past 207 minutes have been nothing but brain farts

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

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...

in the same room as a baby
and a great grandmother
wondering
how to be like both

eager yet slow
curious and wise

eyes don't know how to focus
      or what to focus on
perhaps it's a sign of the times
a signal that I am seeing things anew

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 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

the classroom has no doors or windows
  no walls or boards

in the 13th grade there was an unboxing
to unlearn
tossed the rubric and curriculum aside
to make way for words unwritten
     have you ever found clarity in the unknown
     discovered validation in the void
darkness has taught me insight
way better than any book or person
amidst trembling and shaking limbs
there was a steady hand
guiding
    with more wrinkles than time
         winding
  with more curves than straight lines

I have talked to my ancestors
listened to the texture of wisdom
through their frequency
528 Hz   -   that's love
      outside of checked boxes
      and conditionals
if you surrender to feeling fully
then you will know   -   that's love
and the heart can hold
just as much memory as the brain
  if you're open to receiving

body,   every body
will tell you of the risk
of running toward freedom
spirit,   every spirit
will tell you of the reward
of not staying stuck
   a universal student
I have a couple answers now
           but still no definitive statements
I am in the timeline I'm creating
and yet
             I am so much more than a point
the finite is a container for the infinite

this classroom has no walls or windows
no doors or boards
this teacher                no face

the buddha is in everything
    and that's love

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.

Love is both muse and music
both poetry and purpose
a symphony of serendipity


The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to imagine
    but a lifetime to create
though words may flood your page
seek the source
love is the strongest force
        it exists beyond language
    is felt before touch
let your sentences be drenched
in intimacy
and punctuated by appreciation

Even when communication is nonverbal
let its essence be affection
     devotion
not only are run ons acceptable here
they are encouraged
marriage is not a life sentence
but an epic of possibilities

Adventure forward knowing that
the future is unknowable
but you are forging it   -   together
ellipses are waiting for you
you create time
   mold it to your will   -   together
trust the process
                              but also
trust each other
     to be auxiliary verbs in
       the act of loving

Seek understanding in your verses
             there is no winner
when existence is the goal
     co-existence
     co-creation
ego aside
be co-stars for the Virgo moon
live in the ease of each other
  even as cycles spiral around you
  even as you spiral around cycles
be the period that stands firm
                                                      for your partner
even under questioning

When line breaks feel like endings
   indent   and   reinvent
you are both forever changing
   so change together
   make edits together
it is a lie that brainstorms are
only the beginning
they will find you
in idle moments
  when the mind wanders
   raining down doubts
though ideas may blot your page
again seek source
  and what started your course

Write to each other
Write for each other

The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to draft
    but if you do it right
it is always under revision
even after you decide to publish

amnesia finds me searching for what is lost
                    value or sentiment
                         the words           are               the first            thing           to
                                                              ­                                                       slip
each
at some point
    originated from these hands
their texture is unfamiliar now
though it's only been one day

full-on compositions are
released to the void
     luckily clouds hold some vapor

I hope it rains tomorrow

forecasts say it's unlikely I will
ever see you again
your disappearance hasn't even occurred
   (to me)   yet

dust will fall
but will ashes
                          this is a lesson in fighting for

I sighed it all away
  before any instinct to clinch
       or swing
          or break

am I better composed than my poetry
simply because I accept
          without questioning

the formulas are lost
      the charge is lost
            the message is lost
yet I still hope to discover myself

amnesia will remind me tomorrow
of another item vanished
but today I plotted out
a future
and nothing was missing

*** for me!* I shout
She flashes her pearly whites
the brightest smile I've ever seen
(She likes it when I talk *****)
gets wet off it     ...     soaking
                                               the streets
                                      flooded in every nook
rivers gorging car tires
     thunderstorms are our communion

*** for me! I shout
and She moans like a god   ...   boisterous
my legs pump faster now
Her cries are electric
   I can't help but feel the jolt

louder baby
She indulges
and I come
                    full stop at the corner of Broadway & Covert


one day...
              She will tire of my obscenities
  all my ~*******'s~
in a final flash She will smite me
and when I reach home
  He will be at the gate
crooked finger a compass pointing to hell
*** for me I will cry
reverent in nostalgia
I will have played the game past the final quarter
still taunting His existence

but I'll smile
content in knowing
that every action has a consequence
content in knowing
  that I learned that pre-god
   pre-conservation of energy
content in knowing
    that life taught me to run in thunderstorms
and the first time I shouted back
I felt enough energy to risk hell for it

I caught the sun with my hand
and ate it like a blood orange
pulp bursting through my seams
it seems imagination has lost its shine

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

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

how does the uncolonized mind count
is it a system of 2's to honor duality
are there still 12 months in a ear
how does it rank and prioritize
are there different equalizers below the equator

how does the uncolonized mind exchange
does it tally net value on an unending score sheet
cost analyze each relationship without roman numerals
  X over O but the real pro is unity
were a classroom to lose its walls
  would the mind expand    beyond preconceptions
  or barricade imaginary

how does the uncolonized mind build
and is destruction first or always
can formations curve outside of parallel lines
he lost his number beyond borders
and stopped counting
now he  i n t e g r a t e s

after my first true betrayal
I found myself mumbling
                                              snitches get stitches
shredding the dignity of my conscience
I left a paper trail of trust
   -a reminder for those to come
sprinkled the strands over my scars
and let them settle into the backdrop of my pain
I learn from my mistakes
(even kept the hilt as a memento)

but Tre...
                Tre is different

I want to part your lips and slip you a secret

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