To say that I was scared was fine
After all it was only a matter of time
Sooner or later I would have to leave home
To be on my own to ponder and roam

At first the thought filled me with dread
The idea of coming back to an unfamiliar bed
But I took the first step that led me away
Sometimes I look back still to this day

But here I stand years from then
These hands of mine that hold this pen
They are not the same I have to say
The years have changed me in many a way

I look back on all the mistakes I’ve made
The things I’ve lost and the debts I’ve paid
But would I change it if I had the chance?
Maybe I would looking at a glance

Then I think of all the things I’ve done
The days of work and nights of fun
Those I’ve met and those who’ve left
I think I’d feel quite bereft,
Knowing that it turned out any other way.

I thought I knew
But I know nothing
I can feel you baby
Leading me astray
I repeat to myself:
“You are not small.
You are the universe
In ecstatic motion.”
But I feel  small
I feel the universe
Slowly draining
From my soul
Because I know nothing
But I feel everything
And I don’t want to feel anymore.

From a moments notice to
hours upon passing hours
the light trickling in the small basement
windows, stuffed with backpacks
and pillows to hide ourselves
from the outside world of uncertainty.

The churning in my stomach,
the awful, nauseous spinning is
of my own wrong doings-
a bottle of Chianti and 7 slept hours
later. I am in ruins.

Aching all morning while you lie
silently beside,
I can't help but think about all the
torture your beautiful mind was
forced to withstand. I too,
would hide even the most pressing
thoughts deep inside.

I cannot even fathom,
(I hope you realize) I'm still yet
a princess, sitting in another
castle in the sky.

There,
the eyes
caress ever
so softly.

The knowing
of myself
is drawing
conclusively
to the jazz
and the music.
Who are you?

Then time will
come back to me
and roll into
the melodic sun.

I have always
continued.
Walking towards
something I have
realized that
             I have not.

Every **** too wants to tell it's story to us loud,
my eyes trained to span galaxies light years away
weren't good seeing the flowers,on weeds for long,
then an unexplained  lightening connecting all cells,
flashes within, I turn back and see things in a new light,
those blue and yellow flowers kept hidden by an invisible
blind,smile with a joy and it brings anew a  vision of beauty.

A flower is a flower, even if offered by a humble ****,
like the words I heard spoken from a sleepwalker's lips,
with a less emphatic tone smeared with dusts of dreams
still I hear it's heart beat, a cadence so exhilarating.

Every rice plant in the field, drooping in the heaviness
of ripened grains, is muted, the wind that caresses both
are equally cool,benign; every **** wishes to explain,
so I won't miss their music, even by some chance did misshapen.

Think you've been linkedIn
that you're as safe
because you're connected?
yeah
well,
take a long look at Brinks Mat,
money for old rope
robbed by them old blokes you
passed on the way here
and you still think you're linkedin?
stick a pin in any map and that'll show you
that there's a pinhole in the map, you see it and
believe it because the pin was in your hand and
Linkedin?
being Linkedin is a pinhole in the sand forever
caving in
forever falling through the castles that you build,
filled with this desire to set those sights of yours just a little higher
you'll give in to every whim,
make believe you are the pin, but baby,
you are not Linkedin
it's just a ******* scam.

Men with pins have a multitude of sins and lies disguised as truths and sold in fortune telling booths by Gypsies all related to the seventh son of **** knows who is the biggest pin of all.

Don't you fall into the trap of thinking you're linkedin because that's just crap and you're bigger than that, almost as big as Brinks Mat thought they were, but we don't go near there,

anymore.

Climb aboard the gravy train,
it was a boat,
but that got sunk
the pilot drowned
and he was drunk
so
didn’t feel a thing.

Bring some cigs and filter tips
I like to smoke them cool.

I have set some lips on fire
and blushed bright red at dawn
been naked on the altar
the day that I was born, but
I never tasted lips so keen as
those lips that taste of
Steve McQueen.

I guess that was her previous beau
I really ******’ hope so.

a newborn wants to be a hand.  

there’s the dream I have of heaven
and the dream
god lets me
bring.  

my boy
has a crow
for a backpack.