Eyes peel open    -        
my nostrils tingle -
as the smells of soil and sweat
                          permeate the air.

The heat and humidity is unbearable    -
breathing shallow -
            movement restricted.

I only wish to wipe the sleep
from my eyes -
who would prevent me      -      
              such a simple request?

Anxiety billows for                
a brief moment      -
surrendering complacently -
as the frequency of
my rising chest
                                    slows.

I sense my sightless eyes
dimming                                -
resting shut -

I am so tired...
                    over the fence they go -
one  -
           two.        -
three...
                  their fleece as white as snow.

i'd ask you
  what's wrong

but,

   there's
no need
    chasing after
what's already

     g

o

       n

e

not only do i
  need her but
i want her.

those
   green emerald
eyes like
  2 emerald
shards of ice.

those
   mesmerizing *******
  and gum drop
******* that
  poke through
every piece of
   clothing.

that
   hourglass figure
that haunts
  me as i sleep.

those lips...
   where kisses
are meant
   to be missed.

one night,
  i wish to
have my
   own lips
buried deep
  within her
thighs.

Sleeping
Under
Night

the trees
wrap themselves
in slumber.
birds try
to fly away
from december.
winter comes
and schoos away
my loathing
of summer.
i wish
summer never
had to be.
summer is
obnoxious
loud and *****.
nothing beats
a crisp white
winter's beauty.
the summer's
rank and stank
of people and
garbage lined
streets.
individuals
in sandals
offending us
all with hideous
troll feet.
when i die,
i want to die
in winter please.
i don't want
to die in
summer's
smelly person
breeze.
i'd rather go
in winter's
crisp and
fresh clean
freeze.

'Yours and everyone's concrete-poet'

she's my
sunny day
alarm clock....

as she's peaking
through
my curtains.

she's the
coffee
in my cup....

she's the one
that gets
me moving.

she's the
one that brings
a smile....

even when
i don't
feel much
like
smiling.

she's
clearly my
best friend....

'cause in,
bad times
it's her number
that
i'm dialing.

she's the
lover in my
bed on those....

cold nights
in the winter.

she's the
one across
the table after....

work and
eating dinner.

she's the
air i need
to breathe....

she's the
fine wine
that i drink.

she's my
favorite song
on the radio....

she's the
slow song
that i sing.

she's the
one that
i kiss last....

on a steamy
summer's night.

she's the
kiss that's
on my lips....

i'm not putting
up no fight.

she's my
blanket as
we sleep....

as we're...
kissing through
the night.

the only
thing that
stops us
is that....

first mornin's
light.

she's
the one
that purrs
up against
my chest....

she's,
different from
the rest.

she's
the one
i want my
whole life
through....

she's
the one
i want to
say.....

    I do.

she's
everything
i need.

cause'....

she's
everything
to me.

just about
everyone
thinks that
they have
a
"good heart",

just about
everyone,
right?

me?

i think
you're
full of
****!

your
intentions
may be
good but
you know
the
ugliness
that lives
inside
your head
every day.

stop lying
to us
and
better yet-
stop
lying to
yourself.

you have
to live
with
yourself...

and
thankfully
i don't
have to.

i'm beyond
weary of
the...
"i'm such
a good
person posts".

"i do this
for people-
i do that
for people-
boo hoo.
****!

for Christ's
sake be
honest
with
yourself!
you're not
fooling
anyone
but
yourself.

remember
that.

last i
knew,
Jesus Christ
died on
the cross.
None of you
are
Jesus Christ!

stop
the
charade.

thanks...

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️

I'm often not sure whether

     ....the trees are waving

..hello

          - or goodbye.

It's like watching the sun melt into the horizon at sunset.

It's two sets of eyes locking into one another's like neodymium magnets.

From afar you, yourself, anticipate the moment that their lips taste the others.

Chemistry builds as does the heat now watching two, impassioned lovers.

The moon could fall right next to them and they wouldn't even notice it there.

Loving deeply as one, which once were a pair.

Gasping for breath,
they are now each other's air.



'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
-👷🏻‍♂️-

when you

   f
     a
   l
       l

in love
with a dreamer-

don't forget
    this truth.

you also
    f
  a
      l
l

in love

   with their
nightmares too.

writers
write

poets
poet

I wish not to wither from whence a region is in the throes of the season of death.
Salted roads, unknown footprints in the snow and minus a breath.

Lifeless trees against the canvas of a grey and slumbering sky.
I wish to leave when life and robust colors once again make love to thine eyes.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️

depth appears
to be elusive
en masse.
shallowness is abundant like weeds in the grass.
beneath the
Pacific ocean
is 'Challenger Deep'.
the deepest of
all deep waters
at 36,200 feet.
and then you have the sea of Azov at less than
3 feet which could never refresh a wanting soul,
in a sultry summer's heat.
depth is mysteriously different,
filled with
hold your breath unknowns and
butterfly intrigue.
listen to depth's secrets as it crashes against the shoreline.
depth has so much to say
in so little time.
the shallows have no ability nor care to hear depth opine.
they stand in a puddle,
on surfaces
they dine.
dare to breach
depth's surface
and be fully ready to sink.
depth and substance are
the two most exquisite qualities,
be it in
a person
or a poem
in ink.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️

As the
  Autumn leaves
    die....

their life giver
  is STILL
   alive.

Over thinking life
can leave you sinking.
This started as 10 words
but got me thinking.

Losing sleep over
the day that's been.
Instead of looking to tomorrow
and what's yet to be seen.

Dwelling on something
someone MAY have said,
when you could be sleeping
in comfort in your bed.

Drinking to excess
over matters of no control.
Or turning silver haired
for not reaching a goal.

We're not all entrepreneurs
or a self made millionaire.
Look at President Trump,
who'd want his hair?

Try living each day
like a fresh start.
Sure, it may end like crap
but listen to your heart.

Celebrate your uniqueness.
Let off a bit of steam
at the end of each day.
Think positive and, dare to dream.

the depth
that i
think of
is not
measured
in feet.

depth
is a
measurement
between
each and
every
heartbeat.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏿‍♂️👷🏻‍♂️

invigorated
  i awaken
     each morn'
with-
    nary a word.

some folks
  will never
    understand.. .

a
  wing flapping
    morning bird.

as dawn
  breaks
    the horizon,

i have
  the energy
    of a hurricane.

i attack
  the fresh day
like an
  onslaught
     of rain.

the rain
  gives me
   the chance
to lick
   and groom
       my
messy mane.

   i leap
from my bed
  with a
    scratch and
a roar.

  i am what
   you call
a "bion"

  a word that
i am sure
   you have never
      heard before.

as an admitted
  pluviophile,

    the sounds
of morning rain
      excite and
arrest me.

   these things
i speak of
       are free.. .. .

    as a poet -
our frame
     of mind is
always front
  and center.. .

   we are
       open books,

we are doors
  that need

        no key.

in life,

   we just
feel things
    more deeply.. .

           better.

i graze
your
lips
with
a
drive by

your
eyes....

so hungry
asking
me why?

anticipation,
wetting
yourself
longing
for my...

leaving
you
and
knowing
that
this
is not
our
last
goodbye.

life... .. .
  it is such a
twisted and
   frayed strand of string that swings like a pendulum in each storm's hurricane force winds


'Yours and everyone's concrete-poet'

poetry died,

when you died.

Blah blah blah with her...

She loved to be eaten.

And she loved a hard long ***** that well....

others took notice.

yellow eyes
kick the ball
jaundiced lies
walks into walls.

blue and black
discolored skin
bruises of attack
violence and its din.

red fingers
shave and a shower
trickled blood lingers
lights off- i have lost power.

green emotions
stand in the doorway
envied poetic devotions
snow was a storm today

orange peels
there's candy over there
i left flats on the wheels
staring coldly without care.

purple cheeks
blackened hands
rotting flesh reeks
body heat this icy land.

brown water
sewage is often words
prose sometimes falters
flight of poetic birds.

white button shirt
teeth full of decay
feelings often hurt
sweetness often stains.

black mist
under the bed clown
death has no list
smiles are upside down frowns.

there may be
  more life
circulating around
     the inside
  of a
winter's
   slumbering
tree...

   than me.

i.. .

   i feel dead
already.

in today's
world,
you
'get together'
why?

to sit across
from someone
that you
barely
even know
any more,
and perhaps
more troubling
is that you
don't even
care to?

to sit across
from someone
that rudely has
'earbuds' or
headphones
covering
their ears?

to sit across
from someone
that has their
face buried
in their
phone like...
you're not
even there?

Helloooo...
I am right here!

no thanks.

i will pass
on those
'get togethers'
with folks that
it seems have
turned into
total
strangers.

once, twice,
three times
a year?
i consider you
a stranger.

and then,
when we
'get together'
you have music
blasting in
your ears and
your face
buried in
technology?

no thanks.

let's just
continue being
strangers....
thank you.

no need for
awkward
silence...
no need for
feeling alone
around a
crowd.

no need for
a feeling of
needing to
be drunk
to deal with
this complete
waste of
time.

heck, i can
have much
more fun alone
getting drunk
and writing
poetry and
having a
functional,
creative
and
entertaining
'get together'
with...
me, myself
and i.

so,
"why even bother"?

i'm not
  impressed....
with your
  'get togethers'.

advice
from ghosts
is advice
worthy of a
  cemetary's
ghost hunt.

we have
all tried to
"drown our
problems",
right?

the problem
with trying to
"drown our
problems"?

our problems
are better
swimmers than
we care
to admit.

they always
float back
to the
surface.

gone missing:


last seen
running
from
myself,

thanks to
having to
deal with
today's
society.

society
grooms us
to be
folks that
we aren't.

that's why i....
run from
them,

i know
who i am.

i am
a poet
with deep
intrusive
wounds
that need not
society's knife
to plunge
any deeper
into my
soul.

vital organs
deep
already.

Silence is

    Also communication

I would give her
my life for
just one kiss...

and yet

sadly,

I am still here.

Above the canvas a stuttered quill.
A mind sits thinking, not overflowing just full.

So many thoughts,
so much to write.
So many emotions I always have to fight.

I'll take a deep breath and then think for a while.
My aim will be happiness and to give you a smile.

I write my poems for both far and wide.
I open my heart for you all to peek inside.

Then when my quill, I lay finally to rest.
My peers and my lovers will be my final test.

Fingers

     fingered

        fine

          finality

i have
  longed
to fill
  your
v()id
  not
for
   moments
but for
      .......
   hours


'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏿‍♂️👷🏻‍♂️

Against the midnight sky the red rose dripped
their passion's
****** in panting breath.

A bouquet of love
with raw and rare emotions clinging to the humid air.

A droplet of moonlight seemed to caress her lips that I have longed to engage.

Long and hard I kissed her again, the midnight sky's red rose.

Her petals could make the softest of velvet jealous.

Her essence,
I never want to wash away from memory.