Fly through my window, my sugar-lump, to find molasses candy

The spots represent galaxies.
An infinite world of possibilities.
Stars in space spaced by realities...
and gravity

The spots represent a journey
within a world, constantly turning.
A mind doing the same thing
without an object to cling.

The spots represent gaps in commitment.
circling around the truth: orbit.
A reach inches short of it
A love that remains dormant.

The spots represent a mistake made
in the hustle & bustle of laundry day.
Washing whites, I made the bleach spray.
To my dismay

Thank you for the left clicks on my life's nicks

She begged me never to leave

I pleaded to the same degree

She said she's having my baby

I joined the ˈmiləˌterē

She claimed to be high risk

I exclaimed "We are better than this!"

She explained the reason: diabetic

I replied "Your excuses are emetic."

She mentioned money would help set her pace

I sent several hundreds to take my place

She disappeared without a trace

I, broken and weary, continued the race.

Frightened by my fascination.
Fascinated by my fright.
Curiosity holds me with might.
I must, maybe I trust,
heed a most
extraordinary boast.

Remarkably ineligible scribbles
like a doctor's short hand.
Every so often we peer over the edge of our hearts'
paper bound representation
and catch eachother's eye.

Its that moment.
When our gaze meets
we don't need to see to understand.
Actually, doing it in the dark is part of what makes it exciting.
In that moment
when our glance
makes our worlds collide
within our irises

you strip.
shedding off the plates of armor
hidden in your sweater dress and scarf
your thigh-high boots, arm-length bracelets
and the baggy beanie so elegantly
laid upon your head
Twirling proudly,
exposing every twist and turn,
every pothole and hill.
These roads I have yet to travel.
Still I can feel my chain mail unravel.
We stand there exposed.
A queen without a crown
and a king without a throne
and our kingdoms unite under the banner of white sheets
and blue lines that define our bodies, hearts and minds.

Its just a moment
then its  back to scribbling.
Smiling and snickering
and silence occasionally interrupted by
Trains & Sirens
Its better than ***.
Really, it is.
Just to know my muse is at the end of my nose.

Between the headaches & heartbreaks
lives a man unaltered by mistakes

For all intents and purposes we live in different universes

Its a bit too much much, what we feel
between your mascara lines
and my rifle's steel
My carbon-tipped boots and your high heels
paying for your nails and these light bills
your fingertips are still digging deeper into my back pocket
My wallet, I wanted this  
but steady paychecks don't mean we can afford a tryst
with a solo violinist and a dinner candle-lit
pent-up in the penthouse painted
red, jaded rooftops, movie sponsorships
Blockbuster hits not folded dented
Like your life is rented through my hardships

Your presence is like Midas touch
a bit too much,
we,
smile at the sight-of each others blush
nah, not but
we ****-heads over bread
over loafs
over who gives better head
instead
of which heart is gripped by the solid gold clutch

Your blessed
with nothing less
than a poet's
verse and thoughts
of a person stressed
by fantasies and a mind possessed
with the dictionary
Body's hidden in the trees.
Spirit flowing with the breeze

Its nothing less
than light in a benighted city

Its nothing less
than beauty on a face blemished

You are nothing less
than the words you use.
they transcend death
and abuse
the evil in humanity's soul.
Your ideas are bold.
As you grow old remember,
your blessed with nothing less.

The following are three random poems I made up today

                                                                My Shirt

Red, black and grey
are the colors of my shirt today
It matches my shoes vans
A pair of blue jeans
in between
to represent my blues


                                                         ­                Comp Book

I started with 100 sheets
now there are 78
free from the mesh of madness
hidden beneath the grates

                                            
                                                                ­            Hats
I don't like to wear hats
well, I do like beanies
but this nonsense over fitted caps
is just an excuse for people to be meanies

A series of gestures & looks
hidden between words in our composition books
As we study the opposite situation
We have the right page lifted in anticipation

The story is intriguing to be honest
We hang on to every letter as if written words couldn't lie.
When in fact,they make the lie permanent.
To be truthful, we speak in winks and flutters of the eye.

It is a language we never wanted to learn,
speaking in premonitions.
It frightens us like an unlucky number
A common and uncanny superstition

So we watch happiness from the corner
with an odd sociological perspective.
The trends we notice make us loners.
Lovers without an object of affection.

What I am is a variable
          for this sake lets say W
I am the result of a personal equation
My truth is invariable
At least on this occasion

Multiply my changes(c) by 21
Those are the years I've spent beneath our sun
      21c
The purpose of this piece is
to formulate when my living begun

Divided by fear plus attraction
this will not be the only abstraction
As the sum will be added to a negative distraction
This is already becoming a complicated fraction
(21c)/-D+(F+A)

Fear is the number of years Ive spent
subservient
to my mind                


Attraction is the number of times
I've forsaken my chains
and made dollars out of nickles and dimes

A biting cold gnawing at the bones

                                                          ­                                                    



                                                             ­                                          




                  ­                                                                 ­                             Freezing the marrow at the source

                      



                           



                              ­   I dare to be so bold to wear a T-shirt

                                                       ­                   


                                           ­ 




                                                            ­                         Body fluttering like a sparrow in the devil's hour

    


                                                             
­




                        There is nothing like brisk air to shake my mind from despair

                                      

    





                                                     ­                                      and rile my body

                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­          



                             



                  ­                              I will seek and find an excuse to leave my lair.

Meticulous and loveless, she does her duty
with flawless execution in a calculated fashion.
Every task she has accomplished
is done with a robotic passion

The wires of her brain
are smoldered in place.
Insulated with old errors
she computes a quiet disgrace.

Malicious programs in a trojan horse
sent from a suspicious source with a familiar name.
She brought down her firewall to let him in
which is why she feels such shame.

I watch her as she marches;
no style, no finesse, no grace.
I want to give her a soft touch or an honest whisper.
But I'm prevented by the anti-virus in within my interface.

A brave new world where slaves walk with invisible chains

Slow to feel regret
like a turtle  wet
from a sea of dreams
in which I'm triumphed by the hare's schemes.
It seems I can't find peace
between the seems of my shredded sheets.
Tossing and turning,
I retreat
into a world yearning
for an absence of bleak
thoughts and tortured minds.
A world where everything IS fine.
Where we dine and dance
and true love isn't based on chance
but the contents of one's emotion.
Since no land exists
I insist
We build our paradise in the ocean.

It is a quickened erosion of the spirit
culminated in bad habits
a crisscrossing  lattice
over and under like a ferret

Its too small and quick to fight
this parrot is breaching thoughts with its well versed screech
Luring the cavalry into its cancerous reach
Benighted by several regiments of blight

Enticed by visions of a name spelled in the constellations
Do not forget you are a child of the stars
The strength within you contains quasars
A single mind, your mind, has the ability to illuminate a nation.

Concentration is too limp
to penetrate my skull
My thoughts are like mold
slowly eating away at my sanity
There must be a way
There has to be a way
To protect my soul.

There are things in my head
which don't make sense
I feel blessed and cursed
in the same sentence
I'm a menace
constantly forgetting where I placed my penance
like nobodies business
I wail like a ghost
because life escapes my grasp.
Like wet fingers holding onto a bar of soap.
I'm slipping and stumbling
swearing up and down it isn't me.
Like when you ask a drunk if they are
being what the world sees.
Inconsolable.
Uncontrollable.
Kutisha plagues my dreams.

Mellow cello sounds sweetly of sadness.
Madness with the hand
pointed from the mind
I bind
rather bide my time
to 34 blue lines
inside my binder
with a purple cover
Just a few letters
A, B and C
D and E
It gets better
F Sharp
and a couple G's
I agree
Oh me,
Oh I
Oh Be
why
E
train harder
Oh bother
Oh brother
I would rather
think drunken thoughts
than speak sober
words to
a bear
or any animal for that matter
At the end of the paper
A, B C and D
E and F sharp
Throw in a couple G's on a sheet
for mellow cello sounds

Like fireflies, circling the torches on the porch.
Like moths, ebbing away at the soft cloth of clothes

It bugs me to know
Even more when you show
There is nothing I can do
To help you pull through

Like mosquitos, seven cylindrical mouths **** up several drops of blood
Like flies, frantically flapping flying ***** eaters

All the waste your handing
I'm handling
with my bare hands
There is only so much blood in a man's body

To have questions is a blessing
To have no answers is a curse
like a song without music
or a verse
No beat to bob your head
just silence in your headphones
louder than a gospel chorus
Breathing won't cool your porridge
per se
Looming thoughts are howls in the forest
Not day
And your a long way
from home
Hello, Hi, Shalom
barely phase the surface as you roam
inside your mind's cage.
Can't turn the page
cause the book is glued together.
Like feathers
Confidence falls from the sky
as you drip-dry
fresh from a sea of doubts.
You can build a house
with hay
but hey, bricks can be thrown
when the wolves are at bay.

I am completely amazed by your grace and beauty tonight.

When your name leaves my lips
I'm reminded of your kiss .
Each letter caresses this tongue
as yours in moments of bliss.

I...
I...
I can't find words
to properly observe
my absurd
feelings.

I'm dealing with
A lack of a fifth
appendage.
I'm missing my thumb

Well...
Well...
Well like an appendix,
I'm useless
for your senses.
Sensing

your numb to me
your like Nestle
chocolate is addicting.
and soothing

But...
But...
But I went to rehab
where I met Ahab
who was on Jihad
cause of some white girl

We realized
were hypnotized                          savages
victimized by
self-reliance
the key word being lie

Now...
Now...
Now were stagnant
spaced on various fragments
adorned with magnets
to the walls

surrounding
counting
drowning
*in cement

Midnight Master
appears with a bounce
Up& down faster and faster
Orange and black stripes
cause a fear of the pounce
Knowing he has an appetite
searching for something to bite
besides myself
Honey, acorns, and thistles won't do
...hmmm take him to kanga & roo
your quite the chipper fellow
Bouncing and gobbling and the day hasn't begun
where did you come from?
Do you have family or are you the only one?

Underneath the head of his mother;
inside the pouch she uses as a cover.
Lives a boy whose  older brother is a tiger.

As they hop through the forest
the thump of their landing is the chorus.
There is no greater freedom than lack of a diaper.

There are many lessons to learn
in mother's worries and scorn.
Only of dreams can he be the provider.

I am lacking
a sufficient amount of peanut packing.
Lighting struck beach
shatters underneath
the footsteps of my thoughts.
Roo will have to wait
until tomorrow's date.
I apologize
to myself
for being distracted.
This series of thoughts
has become protracted
I am losing my point.
Owl will be redone
and this spool will be respun
The heart of what is meant
by my words will circumvent
my lack of inspiration.

Give
life and love.
Give
the labor of.
Give
food and home.
Give
day and gloam.
Give
patience in spill.
Give
wounds with squill.
Give
knowledge is known
Give
until they've grown

If i cnoke I do not need him
to not this not,
however
siks peices are not enof
for a huffaluff
Which is the achoo.
gesuhtite
But if i ring
I may distrb a drem
And I wood not like to b
risn from a slumbr
if I waz in a fantasty.
tink...tink"
*HONEY

Superiority
is a complex complex.
When one objects objects
their mind tends to mind.
Tales become tails.
The water in one's  pail pales
in comparison to the sea, you see.
But please  do not shed a tear as I tear
into one's psyche.
I am merely expressing a minute point of view in a minute.
Conversing a conversing idea
with the mighty.
I know this may be difficult for one to comprehend,
But nobody likes a donkey,
donkey.

Lets take time to think
and drink.
Take a break
from the proverbial rake.
Enjoy the seeds
grown into trees.
For the sweetness of the fruit
stems from the root.

In case you did not know,
there is a wonderful forest where the toys go.
Inside they bounce and play.
And live out their day.

My favorite people live here
even though they are not.
I visit them often,
with or without ***.

Honey and balloons.
Carrots and OCD.
bouncing tigers and roos
and pigs with anxiety.

Owls with terrible spelling
and wonderfully awful advice.
These are the things that comfort me
When the world isn't so nice..

Within myself is a miasma.
Its the reason for my asthma.

It fogs the clarity of my sight
and forces regurgitation despite

shots,pills and Oxford accreditation.
They say it is a virus with"complications."

I already knew there would be no antidote
Its obvious in the way I constantly spat and choked.

I always excuse myself in an outbreak.
Wash the blood off my lips and and cope my heartache.

For a moment I can recollect myself in this disease
between the convulsions and the wheeze.

I begin to find a state of equilibrium.
And ***** myself on the tile podium.

Yet as I stare into the mirror all I can see within
Is the fury writhing underneath my skin.