life
will
*****
your
hands,

it will
*****
your
mind,

it will
*****
your
spirit,

but-
don't
allow
this
life....

these
people..


to
*****
your
soul.

poets share their hearts and souls with all-

vastly
underappreciated ;

they try
swimming up from
the anchor
that ties them
to the ocean floor
just to break
the water's surface
and to

B r e a t h e.

but most sit by
on the shore
and watch
poets

~~~~~~~~~~~
    d°
        °
         °
       r°
          o°

        °
          °
       w°
         °
           °
          n°__________

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

a
  poet's words
are their
    organs

   that

they
    donate
to

    the world

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   ~~~~~^~  
                  °
                 °
                  °
           o w °
          r    n
           d  s

               i
                n
                s
               i
                 d
                 e

     circumstances

fixed eyes
upon the
sunrise,

as the river
hastened by.

for me,

it mimicked
our lives.

complete with
raging
undertows
and calm

but ever
moving,

rapidly.

thankfully
the shoreline,

stood still.

as did
the worm.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷‍♂️

One summer 3am morning my life would change forever.

   Like days without darkness.

    A shadow to mingle with mine.

On Hertel avenue about 1/4 mile from Niagara street I walked alone.

        After a divorce I never wanted, and the broken heart of a Father that loved his 2 children to the moon, to the sun and back.

        Two children I would no longer hear screaming Daddy's home...Daddy's home any longer.

  I scraped up strength some days to live, just to feel human again I would venture out after a long day of concrete.

       Until that one 3am summer morning...

            As I walked home, I noticed half a block away, coming in my direction, 3 young women.

  I thought nothing of it and just kept walking towards them.

       Humble with a side of insecurity fresh from my divorce still weighing upon me, I didn't even raise my head up to look at the women as we passed one another...I didn't even say hi.

           Not even looking back I continued my travels home until I heard, " hey you, come back here" !

   Unsure, I shyly began walking back to the 3 women as they did the same.

        Once within arms distance one young woman said, "she thinks that you're hot" as she pointed to the young attractive brunette named appropriately enough, Dawn, as we stood in front of one another on the cusp of dawn.

           I stuttered, thrown off guard yet I managed to mutter out loud, "oh really" with a great big half moon smile on my face.

   Which is when the attractive young brunette bashfully replied, "Yes, yes I do" !

        She reached into her tiny black ecliptic shaped purse and pulled out what looked like a tube of lipstick and torn piece of paper.

   That young attractive brunette began writing on that piece of torn paper with that lipstick as I stood there awkwardly in silence.

         She reached out to me and handed me the torn piece of paper with her telephone number on it accompanied by her name, Dawn, written in a red rose shade of red.

           She smiled as bright as the sun peeking out from behind the moon as she looked at me and said, "call me sometime, I will be waiting".

  Clumsily once more I fumbled my words and replied " sure I will...
errrrrr I mean, I will for sure" !

        And just like that the chance encounter was over.

   The 3 young women began walking away from me and once again I continued my walk home.

     And after that chance encounter, I understood what love really was .....

     I married that young attractive brunette woman named Dawn.
My love for her has eclipsed any love I have ever known or will ever know.

            Like the moon enveloping the sun during a solar eclipse, Dawn's love has enveloped my heart.

  The only difference being.....is, this total eclipse lasts forever.

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

for the writer,
for the poet,
acts of love
are never enough.

we know that
sometimes the
best way
to express
those words:

"i love you,"

is in print  
right here
on the page.

we know that
we can
light a
forest fire
upon the
dampest of
kindling
wood.

we know that
we can
create a
sunny day
on the
darkest of
nights.

we know that
we can
express those
3 words
better than
any other
with a
slow methodical
glide of
our fingertips.

we are poets
that love
to write.

but we are
poets that,

love to live
what we
write.

we know that
we bring life
to what was
once dead.

we ALWAYS
do this.

so i ask you...

are you alive?

like a
morning sunrise
through the
open blinds,  
i gently kiss
your silken thighs.

forcefully yet
thoughtfully,
i awaken
your enchanting
emerald eyes.

Wanting is an emotion.

    What it is,

is,

       only one step preceding devotion.

lights begin
to fade-
battery life
in end
stage wane.

the black asphalt
sky-
with nary a star
to say
good bye.

perfect silence
without the
sound of time-
surroundings
are mute as
they mimic
a lifeless mime.

clouds roll in
and the rain
masks your
tears-
death has
come once again
and it now seems
to be in
high gear.

pick up
that rose and
take a deep
breath-
the essence
of life can
abruptly
change to
death.

Christmas will come and Christmas will go-
as years pass...
the empty
place settings
at the table
continue
to grow.

in a blink
it's all over
and done-
soon at that
table not
a face....
not one.

Like a bullet
life travels
in haste-
so try not
to waste
but savor...
each day's
uniqueness
and taste.

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

Oral pain relievers

         laying in bed,

a hospice bed.

               Favorite meals brought by

                     comers and goers.

Sadness

       pity and low voices are popular.

              Methadone given

lorazepam given

                 a walk to the downstairs bathroom for Pops and I.

        Phones ringing

              California and across the country relatives calling

                   a brother dying of cancer in California as well.

         We pretend to sleep

but,
    
    . ...       it's time for pain meds.

Higher dose of methadone hospice instructs us...

       we comply.

               A new day has dawned

and-

                    trips to the bathroom have stopped.

      Time for a catheter hospice asserts to me,

               I struggle with this decision

      do I invade my Pops even more ?

Ripping myself to shreds,

.......       I reluctantly agree.

I lie next to my Pop's bed on the floor

       dawn has yet to break,

             pounding on the handrails of death's bed is Pops....

                  I need to get the fxxk up !

       I need to *** !!!!

who the fxxk is holding me down ?!?!

             I destroy myself further for Pop's catheterization.

                  For one
hour Pops angrily pounds...

      Higher oral dosage of lorazepam hospice asserts,

               finally the pounding stops

......I break down ,

       telling my older brother that I need him to help me with this ...

              Dawn breaks and Pop's pain is a 7

              the time for ports have come....

        one in each of Pop's arms and upper thighs,

       Methadone is now morphine.

People still coming and going,

        but it's Cindy, Cathy and I that will not allow Pop's end in the hands of strangers.

              Morphine in one port

lorazepam in another...

Morphine becomes tramadol

              breaths become faint...

I lie next to Pops on the green carpeted floor.

                   End stage is over...

it's ended-

       I have lost my Daddy

the cold stethoscope tells me that my Pop's life is over....

          I am amputated limb, numb!

Questions amass from strangers

              a stretcher opens on my Pop's white ceramic tile foyer floor....

               a black body bag unzipped and my Daddy placed inside of it..............¿¿¿¿

      zipped up-

           my mind blacks out from there.

             I finally, weakly stumble to the kitchen and see all of the medications we pumped inside my Daddy.....

           it's clear that we fought hard against end stage cancer with Pops but at what cost to me.....

         for life?

Imagery never alludes me,

           it's a replay,

a broken record,

                        that will never stop,

      .....until my end days....

and this I know !

You ask of others,
what you are not willing to do
each time you ask another to love you...
when you do not yet love yourself.

(For if you did, you would not ask)

And yet each day I watch you wander,
walking the lines of someone else’s shores,
searching for a foothold among rocks and sand.

Though within you there are boundless oceans
with light and hues you’ve not even yet imagined,
that remain completely unexplored.

You’ve not begun to swim their depths,
as you are too busy trolling the shallows
of someone else’s refracted image,
of the self that they don’t know.

Worry not about painting the sky
with someone else’s color
and find now your own palette -
the one that is yours uniquely
not yet discovered, for it will
only be found when you
find it within your self.

Journey within and you will see that
the kingdoms that you are seeking are
also seeking you.

You are the ultimate mystery of this lifetime,
the grandest adventure of them all,
the undiscovered continent hiding in plain sight.

Love has not abandoned you,
it is within you waiting to be discovered,
please stop asking others why they won’t love you,
and start asking that of yourself.

I can't see you, but I see you.

I don't know you but I know you.

When you let me,
I will love you
just as deeply as you love yourself
and we will swim your oceans together.

Love does not make you vulnerable,
it makes you invincible.

i
wanted
to wait
for
another
kiss

but
your
lips.. .

are
something
i.. .
.. ....

i
never
want to
miss

the unwanted
copperish hue
rusts and
corrodes
what
once
appeared as
a
silvery
imperishable
deathless
mainstay.

remember;

nothing
lasts
forever
including
today.

the
sage lines
upon
your face...
just like
those rusty
copperish hues
will also
be gone
one day.

in the wee
hours of a
july's
summer morn

congestive
heart failure
and it's
life changing
affects
were born.

my icu room
bustles with
panic
and worry

doctors and
nurses can
be heard
"Stat" -
let's hurry!

"it didn't
work"
as they
collectively
gasp in
a chain

"the right
side of his
neck,
look at his
distended
jugular vein"!

"nothing
has worked
and we've
tried
every med"

"all that
is left
is to
shock him-
fingers crossed
he doesn't
end up
dead".

"please sign
these papers
David, it's
all that we
have left
to save you"

"you need
to sign this
just in case
you die,
we want to
make sure
you don't
sue".

"we're
going to
put you
to sleep now-
so go ahead
and take
one
last breath"

"this sleep
may be
permanent-
this july
summer morn,
well..
it may be
your death".

i calmly
laid back
as they
put me
to sleep

no fear
and
no worries-
my own death
i didn't
even weep!

death did
not scare
me as i
faded
to black

i said
my goodbyes
without
one single
care if
i'd ever
be back!

you see,
this world
and its
denizens
scare me
more than
actual
death.

a smile
on my face
will be
evident upon
this man's
last breath.

the liars
the backstabbers
the fake
people in
this life

they all
come
equipped,
equipped
with a
knife.

so...

if i had
died
in july-
i wouldn't
have missed
much

just our
earthly
relationship-
we would
have lost
touch.

i just
about died
and the
few that
have
reached out

i now know
who's who-
and of that
there is
absolutely
no doubt!

my life
expectancy
is not that
of yours.

end stage
congestive
heart failure
had future
years close
their
own doors.

it is
what
it is-
you
are you
and i
am i

and
eventually
i'll tell ya....

we're all
going
to die.

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

from that
very moment
that
our lips,

first met.

i knew,

God
i knew
that
it was,

kismet.

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'
👷🏻‍♂️

into
ebon
forests
alone
i trek.

limbs of
stripped
trees reach
for the
communion
wafer
hued moon.

unsettling
echoes
of predators
find way
to my ears.

unfamiliar
eyes by
the hundreds
seemingly
fixed
upon me.

yet,
i continue
forward,
never do i
retreat.

fate is
not my
fear.

and fear
is not
my fate.

building a
granite
foundation
of character
represses
any fear.

i stand
firmly
ready
for the
attack
amongst
the shadows.

darkness
will regret
taking a
second swing
at David.

i already
fell
Goliath
once.

Lying there, dying of cancer ...
I will forbid most from coming to gawk at me on death's bed

When I was full of life....you should have come to see me instead

I will not allow part time anybodys to try and fill years of guilt in moments so they may feel redeemed

While I was alive and well, you never called or came to see me

Now knocking on death's door, you want to act like you will miss me?

On my way out, I want to feel your regret

My hospice room will be pretty well empty while I lie on death's bed

Save your fake pity and crocodile tears

I will not allow you to now fill my last moments with lost years

Oh well...I'll be dead and
nothing for you will really change

Nothing in your life will you have to rearrange

By the way did he leave me something, anything I get?

Nope....he didn't leave you ****!

her *******
were
tattooed
with the
word
desire

long hard
*******
emulating
gumdrop
spires


below her
navel....

was
appropriately
the word;

fire


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

a softly
woven fabric,

so finely woven
together
in various hues
that mimic
your soft
inviting
delicious lips.

warming,
  like your
lips and
curvacious body on
   a winter's
night beside
  the fire
as they
  intertwine
with mine.

   you,

    you
wear flannel
  and flannel
becomes
   mesmerizing...

breathtaking,
  and loses its
harder edge.

   when you
wear,
   only flannel?

it makes
  more than
just the
    edges hard.

"Flannel"

My parchment
  is the sponge
for all of my thoughts,
good or bad.

If I were to wring it out?

My thoughts would flood
this universe.

Every day I drown inside
every page of my
journal.

No need to save me from me.

A fractured spirit as a child.
Divorced parents.
A Saturday father.
A jealous mother of happy time spent with our father.
What very little time that was.
For me it was never close to enough.
That precious time was reduced even more.
I missed and needed my daddy.
But mom didn't care, her feelings were clearly more important than a fragile child.
After being dropped off by our father there were times of mental and physical unwanted unnecessary uncomfortableness.
All I wanted was time with my daddy but it became scarce, because our father did not want us subjected to that type of behavior any longer from a jealous woman.
Fractured spirit led to a fractured heart.
Part of my heart was so loving and warm.
The larger part was so cold and so bitter.
Which has led to a fractured tormented soul especially after losing my daddy a few short years ago one March day.
Watching my daddy suffer first hand from stage IV lung cancer opened up old and new wounds.
It fractured my mind.
It fractured my very essence of being.
Why is my existence completely fractured ?
Why was it after watching my father get so abusively tortured by cancer did I and do I feel so broken and unrepairable ?
Perhaps it's because I want the same fate as my daddy and I won't feel whole ever again until I do.
I've never been a truly happy person since my father left us as children.
I've never been whole, ever, and I never will be.
I drag my fractured existence through year after year since my daddy's passing.
Never caring, even a little if I myself was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer
tomorrow.
Selfish?
Perhaps.
But that cold and bitter part of my heart doesn't care much about selfishness.
It only cares about the exhaustive numbing pain it has dragged around for nearly 50 years.
As other layers of guilt with other separate affairs of my fractured heart have been added throughout these painful years, life if I am to be honest, has almost become a nuisance.
Crowds of people I avoid because my cold bitter heart trusts no one.
Outside of my home I venture only because I have to, to support the family I created.
Otherwise my fractured being I would keep in my home away from a world I almost despise and sometimes loathe.
Money does not make me happy.
Love does not make me happy.
Nothing will ever make the bigger piece of my fractured heart happy.
It's north pole cold and it will never be warmed until I suffer as my daddy did and I finally leave this place called Earth that I look at as hell.
I only need to leave my home for one day to realize that this really is hell on earth.
Until I can get away from the ignorance...
the I I I I I ...
the selfishness of just about every human being I encounter everyday I will never be happy.
When I see my daddy's face and Jesus's face is when my fractured heart will become whole once again and when I will finally allow myself to be happy.....at long last.
I can't wait to know even something as simple and taken for granted as being/feeling whole.... I can't wait to know how that feels because I never have.
A whole heart from me would be absolutely angelic.
A heart that Jesus has longed to see whole too, i'm sure of it.

Pieces
Of
Every
Me

i look at
   the bottle,
inquisitively.
the bottle
   i *****
with my hand
  nears empty.

the answers
  i seek
are not any
clearer.
maybe the
  next one
will help me
  draw nearer.

i twist off
  another and then yet another.
  the spirits
this night,
  my friend,
my intoxicating lover.

my table is
  littered with
tears drops
   and bottles.
ashes and
   images of
hot brunette models.

as i glance
around,
i admire
  life in double.
i beg
  my new friend
to keep me
  from trouble.

the answers
  it promised
have staggered away.

but alas...

  it still
promises
friendship
each and
  every day.


'Yours and everyone's concrete-poet'

the sun
may
decorate
the sky.

but you
my darling
sun flare.

you,

you
decorate
my
universe.

together,
we are
light years
of love.

together,
our heat
can rival
the sun.

you are
  one star
and i
  am another
      star...

and yet,

   through all
of the
  stellar remnants,

interstellar gas,
   dust,

and dark matter
  in this here
galaxy,

  
  your gravitational
     pull has
never been
   equaled.

÷=÷=÷=÷

Slow down -

Stop rushing towards your death -

It's coming quickly enough -

Write a poem -

Put together a 1,000 piece puzzle -

Kiss the crown of your child's head -

Walk your dog -

Watch a sunrise, watch a sunset -

Make slow methodical love to your lover -

Bay at the moon -

Count the stars -

Listen to a morning bird's melody -

Listen to the gentle rains tap your windowpane -

Catch a snowflake on your tongue -

Slow down and get yourself out of the passing lane -