A tired girl starts her day with a sigh like the moan of a violin
Her groggy mind is overflown with empty thoughts that have yet to be tamed by sleeping in
Her mornings consist of the same boring routine,
Get up, get dressed, but first make sure you’re clean,
In her sleep drunken state, she stays in the shower until it’s too late,
I guess making it to school on time was not to be her fate.
When she finally stumbles into class, tardy slip on hand
She sinks to an empty desk, unable to stand.
The classroom discussion gets her more and more lost,
Although I suppose missing half of it would have its cost…
She seemed to be quite vacuous at times,
But she held a lot of smarts, just hidden in her mind.
She would scrutinize her work until she had an idyllic idea
But sometimes it was too big of one for her mind to appeal
But even though she tends to assail to her work,
Her perfectionist tendencies don’t let her finish any work,
A tired girl ends her day with a sigh like the moan of a violin
But tomorrow she will just have to stop and try again.

I had a father,
he was a kind man.
I'm not the kind of man
he was.

I try hard,
sometimes I fail.
I still look for him
in the mirror.

He fought two wars;
didn't make him strong.
He did that on his own;
he fought his own wars.

Looking back
now that he's gone,
I have to stop and wonder
what was in the water.

My old man
was the kind of man
that someday I hope to see
in the mirror.

r ~ 6/14/14

Gonna move to Qatar
ride in a gold Beemer
playin' songs for the Emir
on a ruby studded guitar.

Live in a silver highrise
go skiing in the desert
eat caviar for desert
singin' about the disenfranchised
and ruby studded guitars.

I'll be an expat in Doha
drinkin' with the monarchy
speakin' absolute malarkey
playin' tunes for all my brohas
on my ruby studded guitar
in Qatar.

r ~ 6/14/14

Ours was less an Arab Spring
and more a half-hearted coup d'état.
There was no immolation,
no burning desire on your part;
no passion in the streets of you.

You stole in at night
through a window I'd left open,
a crack in my need
for something more than mere
existence.  From me there was
no resistance.

I let you lead, and followed blindly;
my voice I raised on your behalf
against all that I had known before.
Your words, your whispers
alone could incite me to storm
against the strongest walls.

Now, as summer comes
and this sectarian affair,
this spring uprising
that we called us has ended,
I sweep the streets of our debris
and wander down
the empty avenues
of you, half-hearted.

r ~ 6/5/14

Alone in his dark apartment
black dog asleep
the sound of children playing
in the street outside his window-
children of color, his housekeeper says,
not quite seeing the distinction
only hearing happy voices-
an old jazz number on the radio
as he stands and dances slowly
with his cane tap, tap, tapping
to the beat and dreaming of a girl
he once read about named Helen
in a book of braille.

r ~ 6/6/14

Lying here rewinding us
while you sleep
Reflecting on where we've been
and where we are
Pausing here and there
feeling for effect
I look at you and wonder
just how much more
I could  ever hope to have-
to hope to live-
that's more than this.

Fast-forward to last night
and there we were
loving like there'll be
no tomorrow
Loving away all of those angry  
yesterdays
Now it's 2 a.m. and my heart
is wide awake
hoping you'll dream us
back again
Rewind us back to where
our love began.

r ~ 6/8/14

O,
to be
Manet
with Nana
on that morning
before the stroke
of brush did touch
her cheeks with blush
of immoral immortality.

r ~ 6/11/14

The way she loves me is like no one else.
She loves me unconditionally and I cant see why.
She claims I am perfect and I am her everything.
If only she knew the truth.

An ex mercenary
street fighter
Alcoholic.

A man with a past he wish he could forget.
Paranoid
Afraid
and resorts to violence quickly.
Surely no match for this angel.

But she doesn't seem to mind or care.
Her love belongs to him.
Without this love to pick him up,
he would most certainly be dead.

But this love is special,
a most unique kind.
He always loved her,
and she always loved him,

and the love blossomed
like a rose
not a rose
for a rose dies,

But rather a wine
if you would have it.
The longer it grows
the longer the time,
the finer it gets
and the more valuable it becomes

I love you Nikkie
Marry me?