Living is a cross
That any one of the rock-faces
Comprehends.


We are drawn
To many seas.
We drown wholesomely
In the failures of confrontation.
The rain
Drenching
Our doorsteps
Has nothing to do
With the simplest desires
And lacerations
We bring
To the smallest acts
Of living.


The child
On the broken catwalk
Hearing the sounds of our hunger
Without understanding
Throws echoes back
To the earliest abandonments
Of love.


Minor devastations preceding
Horror
Resonate the ineffable.
The mothers that wake
At the slightest sound
And the fathers that
Smoke all night
And the rest of us who are
Vigilantes from the demons
Of oppressed sleep
Find at dawn the clearest
Images of bewilderment.
Even the best things
Collapse beneath the weight
Of ignorance.


Living is a fire
That any one of the wave-lashes
Comprehends.
___
Source:
http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml

An introvert, I am not
I am just alone
Unattached from iniquity
Peace is all I seek
Reflections from adversities
I evaluate with a hardened stance
Nonspecific abandonments
I negotiate with my floodlight
In mental conflict with my soul
I split atoms and debate
Intuition overwhelms me
yet I accept all things out of my control
Like Wonder’s vision and spiritual being
I remain passionate while on my throne

Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the light;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, street lamp,  amped up
Yet dampened loss of desire
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.

To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractually binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds

So many now that prey
But with a side affect of
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days

So as not to feel
Not at all
Not even the rage
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change

At war with illusionist
Freedom
The boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Is feeding the loss of will
If you still feel lost -- and war sure did
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines
Pop another pill
Jagged little killer
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheaper
Smoke out not to feel

The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.

Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******!
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation

Mucking about...

I feel lost
the holes in my memory
are too numerous to count.
I become a green-eyed monster
when friends brag about vacation & trips
even though I have taken more trips
to superior locations.
I do not remember.

The minuscule fragments of
my childhood paint a depressing picture.
Abandonments, death after death after death,
Homelessness, loneliness, imperfectness.
My memories have collectively signed a DNR.
They are unrecoverable.
Lost forever in the holes my mind created
to prevent insanity.

We write the most beautiful things
and then, so abrupt is time, we end; pass on
after our deaths, we're dead and forgotten
unacknowledged, unmissed; just simply gone
every one of us lives this life with the need to be loved
each of us goes through life craving to feel as though we're needed
so we can write our lovely sentences
but it's worthless, for we can't escape our fate, and in the end we'll still die
the beings we were to become, no more than mere ashes in the wind
not worth even whispers to carry on our memories
so hurt thus fell these, our flowing words
our hearts consumed with bitterness; grey
years will continue to pass, none will visit our graves
our pages, our legacies shall sink; take solace with us in the ground
so we mourn now, thou still alive; oh how we sit, sit and cry
we don't really make sense
for why wouldn't we be loved by another when we for another can ourselves love?
perhaps unconscious self-contempt leaves us craving to feel neglect for our return
or perhaps we're just so terrified of being broken
we use our fears, rejections, anger and abandonments to write our most magnificent verses
why punish ourselves so, when time will still in the end overbear, and we'll all eventually perish?
oh, the merest of acknowledgments to such notions may as well rip our hearts from our chests
we may have fled truth, begging, pleading as we birth rivers of our blood, sweat and miserable tears
all alone then, without another soul in sight to wander with us while we roam deaths rocky beaches
So it's all of us who are broken, after all...

it’s a winter night tonight
and I’m sitting in my room
in the warmest jacket
I could find
but my hands are
still frozen
and the darkness
seeps in from the
windows

I’ve given up trying
to argue with my
suffering,
I’m just sad
and with plenty of
good reason
too

but when I climb into bed
under a thick comforter
and still shiver
I wonder why
things haven’t changed
yet

I’m still alone
nearly seven months
later
I’ve found no one,
not even a fling
not even a friend
and each day it gets harder
to get up and smile into
the cold breeze

the stars have stopped
talking to me

the earth no longer
shows me her
beauty

I do not think I will
survive the winter
alone in the universe
like this

but that’s the lie
that I like to
tell myself

I will always survive

through  hell,
burning or freezing,
through apocalypse,
through upheaval,
through war,
through abandonments,
through destruction,
and even through
certain kinds of
death
I will still be here,
writing poems
for the darkness
of night
for no other reason
than to prove I existed
for one more
moment

like a soldier always marching
like an ant always building
like a tree always growing
like the world always churning
I am unstopping yet
not unyielding,
living, as I do,
in accordance with
the earth:

surviving,
if barely,
from each harsher winter
she puts before me
and always rising
greater than
before

To mull about

The haunts we are bound

Foggy cemeteries of cubic square feet

The days of purple haze

Of sallow street cars, street lamp, lamp light

Loss of desire

Pop another oxy-hydro-fire

To be able

To muck about

With abandon the abandonments

Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"

Numb the pain

With derivatives

From ******* plantations

Lingering ghosts on our minds

So many now we prey

But with a side affect of try

Holding in your **** for three plus days

So as not to feel

Not at all

Not even the rage

We keep and hold inside our cages

Proclaiming to hallelujah

Freedom

We fight for the countries

And mystic kingdoms' reign

Because nothing takes away

The pain

Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will

If unaffected "consult your physician"

At the edge of the stage making it rain

The business of death

If you still feel -- and war will

Give you bad dreams and migraines

Pop another pill

Jagged not to feel

The muck-about days of

Constipated steel

Numbingly unreal...

This is what it's like : life on the toilet.

Get off the ***

Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement

My heart has called it quits

To all that unholy *******.

Head buzzing with recriminations, I’m lost.
2. Tired of abandonments, I left early.
3. A fork: the answer or unknown?
4. Stinging hornet knives slash ocean sharp.
5. *******. Now ******* silence deafens.

No sign to stay.
In her brain.
I’ll stand on the chance with nothing to say.
Stand in the blue.
Slow with care.
Shallow.
Intimate.
Light tremallo.
Waves to ease in.
Never monotonous.
Always Grimm.
And sullen.
With embers and trauma.
Cast out into a French corner store.
Where she had stood.
Selling paintings.
Coffee.
Basket house.
Cafe.
Such a muse she was.
At night.
Abandonments.
Outcasts.
Displacements.
Said their words.
Crying inside.
Healing wounds.
Her turn.
And that smile gave me everything to know.

Feeling those micro abandonments like the setting sun upon my amygdala's shore,
No longer residing in my mind's old tenemants, I can see only strangers at my left-side door,
Wreathed in layer upon layer of distrust, I cannot open myself up anymore,
I couldn't bear to see your bold stars dimmed by the enveloping mist of what came before.

What kind of existence will find me tomorrow, if any existence at all?
I've been begging for another's burdens to borrow, mine can no longer make me fall,
I'm learning that in my old mirror and shame, I can sometimes see the face of Saul,
Blind in my wandering and bashful in blame, I am forever lost in the stories I cannot recall.

Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the night;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, gas lamp, amped up
Yet dampened and cross,
Loss of desire...
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.

To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractual binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds...

So many now that prey
But with a side affect of:
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days

So as to not feel
Not at all
Not even the rage.
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
We puppets with
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change.

At war with illusionist-freedom,
The good boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Feeding the loss of will,
If you still feel lost -- and war heros sure do
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines, screams
Pop another pill
Jagged jarhead kills
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheap
Smoke out not to feel...

The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.

Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******!
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation

Mucking about...