~

my shelter,

two arms,
a human lean-to,
a pup tent,
all with a
welcome mat,
for you,
await

with graceful patience
simpatico smiling,
always avail,
awaiting,
no life clock countdown
prematurely pushing,
come when
there is
no other place

all,
on offer,
shelter places
that become
your home,
if you so
honor them thus,
your choice,
your decision
when to come n' go

shelter you,
no questions asked,
cloak all with human warmth,
easy silences, no pressures

for when my arms 
 bear your load,
now mine,
my load,
somehow

halved!

Tapping Your Heart's Savings Account

always a decision -
conscious, despairing
maybe..maybe not...
maybe just don't think about it

when the heart
fires
on only
two cylinders,
the stroke weak,
the "I love you's"
worn, not warm,
you gotta decide

tap the savings account
of good memories,
reasons for
to keep on trying,
to reviving
the investment
of loving her

dreading the drawing down,
watching the balance
wrong way creep,
but you do it
anyway
for old time's sake,
rather than forsake,
it all...

but the tap tap tap
is just a raving
drunk poetraven
from Baltimore,
saying over and over again
nevermore,*
you don't want to decide what exactly
when*
will be
nevermore
so tap tap tap

(this poem don't matter much
unless you balk with ***** to essay upon,
thyself, thy valentine failures,
children and ex's who have ex'd you out,
sad love songs
one more time,
even joyous ones,
foolishness human,
then this intro source code,
is an unnecessary winter weather advisory)


a phrase, song~played, scratches,
brain self-commands
via electric synapse
To: the current in-resident body
extrude denude private places

riff,
get to thy work,
decompose on them words:
in the private places*

play with the lowly lowest ranking,
private, who by nature, sees
finer the dirtiest,
privy to the privy,
privilege them
to the most personal,
spit/spill/weep/deep
some or none of it all,
cause the scratch is the
poetic salvation to that
*****~itch, write

the best you get,
dispossess the beastie best
in the pvt. places,
ain't much/no difference
tween beastie and all the crapper rest

draw from the private places,
cast up to light,
revelations devaluations sensations
impolite,
well kept secrets

if you can say it good,
then draw it up from the well
where the private places
were|where sent to drown,
and if you can't,
no bother brother,
after this exculpation excavation,
I'll go back with you
to adding a rock to the
bottom of the pile,
the mountain of superficial crap

I love cheap money

I love giving it away

cheap money is
that which you give
to the the brave ones....

not much of a poem

cheap
because it is the least expensive
way to justify your own existence
and better someone else's

someday I will write
actually share,
the poem long dusted on the bottom
of the pile entitled,

Just Money

a long tale of how I learned
the value of monetizing
happiness

but let us ask where shelter,
shelter is in the human embrace,
like I said,
not much of a poem,
more a good look
in the mirror

and the shelter of liking
what you see

bed unmade days,
kitchen ****-all-around-roaches
email me thank you notes,
cockaround gratingly grate full

the dry cleaning unwrapped,
the plastic sheets dust covered,
can't recall why it matters at all
any of it

but she,
no
but she,
now-gone

pass by
the bed,
see the sign,
"to let"
on the toilet seat
upright

lie ever inwards onwards
idiots who let little things come
between,
wishing there were
ever still,
noisy
and so very
between