I have a
  valid question.

Why do some
  folks try to
treat this
  as a
      dating site?

I mean,
  listen;

   I am here
to read
    other "poet's"
work and to
  share mine
as well.

Please stop
  inboxing me
about things
   that do not
pertain to
   the reason
that we are all
  supposed to
be here for....

poetry.

I'm not here
  to make
videos or have
  some weirdos
   inboxing and
asking me where
   I live and....

I am sure
that you can
    figure out
the rest.

Stick to
   poetry please
or I will
   block you.

Thank you.

like a
  tree,

all that
   i want
to do
     is....

"leave"
and,

    have my
branches....

     stretch to
    
             reach
  the

heavens.

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.

L
O
V
E

Is

Not just
   something
         you say

L
O
V
E

Is

Something
      that you
            do

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.

-Life is something we unknowingly graze
-Life can be a frenetic maze
-Life can certainly amaze
-Life can be a passion'd stare into your lover's gaze
-Life can leave one dazed
-Life can leave one crazed
-Life can leave others unphased
-Life in a blink can turn ablaze

-Life....on this earth in the end, well....it only has so many days.
-Life can be eternal if its God we genuinely praise.
-Life in the end we can rejoice hallelujah with up HIGH...both hands raised.
-Life's "reality" is something that all need to realize.
-First thing's first...prioritize.

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

Red.
Red can be fire.
Red can be rage.
Red can be love and desire.
Red can be forever imprisoned in a cage.
Red is not the color of love.
Red is the color of spilled blood.
Red is no cherub flying around with an arrow.
Red is the screams of tormented echoes.

If I ran out
of ink?

I would write
my poetry
in my blood.

Cause,

I pull muses
through my
home's walls.

I pull muses
from a
quiet room,
the stale air.

I pull muses
through my
television screen,
from the lyrics
of song.

I pull muses
from everywhere
and
everything.

So,
I need ink.

Let's just hope that
I never run out
of ink.

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.

pure,
budded
and
unopened.

snow
kissed
tongues
with
white
icy
wh­ispers.

bonfires
of
scented
cinnamon
sticks
and
apple
rinds.

eskimo
kisses
nestled
in tightly
wrapped
arms.

logs on
the fire
glow against
the
bronzy
autumn'd
sunset.

dripping
from the
weathered
eaves....

the remnants
of
what's pure.

privy
to nothing,
inherently
oblivious-
naked,
no clothing.
empty
streets,
eyes of
the night
don't see.
mana
weeps from
the
tortured sky,
its power
creates
a
zoo like
primal cry.
obstacles
animate
and
steal
your breath,
space
confined...
so close
to
death.
as each
cloud falls
it drags
down
the stars,
the moon
and its
craters...
they
mimic
your
scars.

and
now...
the end
of
another
year.

another
year
in the
'proverbial'
rear-view
mirror.

they
come
and go
now-
for me
without
much
care.

another'new year'
looking
at me-
just
standing
there.

resolutions
made
by many
that
are
regurgitated
clichès
spoken
by
bottles of
liquor
and beer.

literally
uttered
in pubs
and
bars...
here
there,
everywhere.

but
yes,
i guess..

it
once
again
will
be
a
"new year".

and
once
again
by
midnight-

i'll
be
nestled
in bed
good
and tight-

just
like
any other
night
with
a smile
of
great
delight.

forgetting
the
world
and its
menacing,
regrettable
dark
light,

putting
it out
of mind
and
sight...

until
first
awakened
breath
at.....

daybreak's
first
light.

backed up
sewers
and roses
are now
how i
differentiate
........

people?

let's just
put it
this way.

the smell
of raw sewage
has
become
overwhelming
in this
world.

most people
that
you will
encounter
are full
of ****.

keep a
respirator
close by.

i fondly
remember
the once
abundant
bouquet
of roses
in this
******
world.

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

so yes,

  it is indeed
    going
to be a
  new year,
new decade.

but;

  what oh what
in this life
   has pushed you
to fade?

  please don't
blame others
  when you alone
choose your fate.

slow your
  life down,
be rid of
    the haste.

a new decade,
  a new year
and you
  still will not
blame you.

  keep lying
to yourself and
  unhappiness
will continue
   sticking
to you
     like glue.

listen y'all:

  you don't need
a new year
    or decade
to change whom
  you wish
to be.

a change
  in year
means nothing
  if you put
asterisks on
   your conditions
of being free.

the politics
dance,
they dance
in open forums
everywhere.

they dance,

they dance
gayly with
rainbow flags
in hand.

they dance with
pistols strapped
to the hip and
bullets with
hollow point
tips.

until...

until each and
every democrat
donned their
pink puxxy
hats.

and they
danced on
the graves
of all murdered
babies they chose
not to save.

the politics stop
dancing
when the
heathens stop
perfectly healthy
babies from
breathing.

one day i hope
that my
political dance
will find these
heathen's graves
of which i will
stomp upon
and not prance.

when you
insert fire
into fire... .
it
only intensifies

heavy
oxygen in
the air
feeds the
burning

the heat
and smoke
arrest their
hearts

monolithic
bodies
melted... .
exhausted

all cooled
down with
a spasmic
hosing

In the life
of a bud -
and flower
in the garden.
There is no talk of riot
against Autumn.

Only a goodnight kiss
that lasts until Spring.
Secret gardens
outlive winter.

Autumn's secret garden is a beauty unrivaled.

Kiss me Autumn and let's make secret love amongst the bronze and cinnamon colored leaves.

Kiss me... and

     F
        a
           l
             l

for me.

i write
  about her
often but,

  i am
sure that
      she
doesn't
    know it.

Yes, I dreamt
   of her
     once.

And that once,
   just wasn't
       enough.

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.

cancer,

it
kills more
than
one
person
at a
time

I'm a simple man.

I don't need all of the ******* you understand.

Don't ever pretend, don't ever lie to me.

I don't need all of the makeup, if you're beautiful, trust me I'll see.

Just sit next to me quietly and let's see where this can go.

Sit next to me on the shore and let us watch the river flow.

Let us listen as the waves crash up against our barefoot toes.

Sit next to me and watch some stars shoot across the sky.

Sit next to me and find out that I am just....

I am just a simple guy.


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

making love in the rain

thank God for the rain, that puts out the fire


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

the winter's
  trees
stand as barren
  as a soul
in search of
    stimulation.

Rolling eyes that hide the wounds

A stranger to one self,
complete with stalking shadows and masks of masquerade

Salty tears invade the scars,
burning these painful moments,
prevent the proper healing.

A numbing blank stare arrives,
as cold as a murderer's heart,
my eyes now blind to beauty.

The path ahead is quicksand,
each step an exhaustive journey

Fragmented I may be, but quitting is not inside me.

Sometimes when it rains,
every step you take feels as if you are
stumbling through the darkest night.

A night with a thousand eyes watching you.
Watching you ***** for light.

Watching you undermine yourself even
in your brightest moments, with little energy to fight.

Sometimes when it rains,
perch yourself in front of a window.
Watch each drop of rain cascade
dramatically down your window pane.

Watch as a battered bird shakes it feathers,
takes off in flight and in awe you raise a brow.

Sometimes when it rains,
lovingly, acceptingly step out into the downpour.

Allow these tears from heaven to saturate every crevice, every part that makes you, you.

Just standing idle, arms stretched out open palmed, your mind takes off into a different place,
you see a brightly lit, open door.

Behind the door a rainbow,
a warming sun to dry your pain,
a meadow of amazing life and beauty,
enough to make a beaten down saddened man grin and smile ....a man that once so blue.

Listening, watching and feeling the rain has a way of spawning a divine inner peace.

It can wash away the stains of sadness and also allow you to hide one last cry from the world.

Sometimes when it rains no umbrella is needed.

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

   than me.

i.. .

   i feel dead
already.

Your
football team
is not
going to
win today because;

-"it's your birthday"

-it's your "anniversary"

-you're dying

-you "prayed"

-you had a slamming night of ***

-you didn't step on any cracks in the sidewalk

-you wore a certain shirt or some other stupid article of clothing

I'll tell you straight.


If your
football team wins?

They
will win
because they played better
than the
other football team did!

Sports fans...🙄

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