The pains of reality justify the
Deep seated sorrow of man.

The vulture encircles me
Events surrounded by mystery
Enveloped in insanity
The human race is
Captivated by mystery
Doomed to repeat history

Collusion to bestow unmitigated
Sorrow upon my being

Simply put, I am
Damaged goods

Speak softly now
And choose your next thoughts
Carefully,
For the devil has called
My soul to dance

Reckless, unmitigated
Abandonment
Of mind, body, and soul
Fruitless searches
Forever numb
Longing to feel whole

Deep beneath the rolling waves
Lies serenity
Amongst sunken slaves
Deep inside my brain
The labyrinth of my mind
Memories that
I've left behind
Gone with the breeze
Above arid land
Somewhere lost in the desert
Where only shamans understand
Somewhere locked in the innocence
Of childhood frailty
Misplaced in the universe
Perpetuating reality
Walking alongside
All the gods of the ages
Bounding across time
In history's pages
Vacated with the morals
Of man
Lost in the seams of
Our lives
In the absence of the infinite
Shared hallucinogenic cries
Gone with the limbs of
The serpent
Ignored individuality dies
The reflection of man tainted,
For it is where the devil hides
Looming in the shadows
Of irresistible allure
No acquittal of our sins
A race ****** to remain
Impure
Violence surrounding our
Unequivocal, dastardly instincts
Perched in the forefront of our
Perceived selves
Selfish, devilish
Acts of kindness
The misfortune of the fortunate
Given all the amenities
Of a king's meal
Without the sensation of
Taste
Washed away with our
Dreams of betterment
Laying upon the chests
Of mythological beasts
Souls left rotting
Souring with ferment

Supreme consciousness
Arouses the senses
Invent my future with the
Myths of the past

You're stuck in a state of
Imaginary grace
Dream myself into
New bounds of transparency

Cryptic writings
Things left unsaid
Unsure of the real
Or the surreal
Life's slipping away
Once again
Paper in hand
Palms begin to sweat
Indulging into reality
Memories
I long to forget

It seems forever
Since I've been home
Trying to balance
This chemical imbalance
But always, I'm left here
Alone
Believing my dreams real
Realizing my world's surreal
Living with uncertainty
Imagining reality

Where do I go
To hide the pain?
Dual existence?
Acute psychosis?
Trapped inside my own
Brain
There's a place in my mind
I like to hide
Where all of my secrets
I do confide
There's a place I go
To bury the pain
A papered existence
Conducive synopsis,
Abstained

I begin to sweat
My heart screaming
From my chest
Let the feeling pass
Delve into the kingdom
Inability to
Repress
Take me away
To that far off place
Abscond into surreality
Amongst things I dare not
Confess

Drinking in divinity
Affixed on mortality
Will I die in this place?
Unable to resurface
Back in reality

Stuck running in circles
On a surface-less plane
Can't escape the shadows
Can't remove the pain
Simple design
Made up of
Over thought complexity
A universe separated
Removed from the modern mind
Inexorably

Amputation of
The mutation
That is the
Human race
Segregation of this
Charred realm
From other wordly
Space
We live
We die
And death begins it
Reinvent our minds
Ignite our passions

Drowning in a gene pool
Of degenerates
Souls thrashing
Wildly, forlorn
Plunged into unmitigated
Evil
Of a race that destroys
The unborn

Lachrymose gaze
Upon the living dead
A thin film of separation
Through which lies
Are fed
Understanding the weakness
Into which we are
******
For shed blood
Forces cries
Ripping from mother's eyes
Witnessing her own demise
As a piece of her
Slowly dies
For father's impenitent
Fantasies once dreamed
Torn away from aching
Fingers
Left ravaged,
Impotent

Gazing at you
Under the cloak of
Intrigue
Watching you struggle
In the tangled lies
You weave

Commanding the head
Of the serpent
Lilith forcing man's
Non-repent
Imposed upon our being
Righteous punishments
Such ramifications
Deemed astringent

Incomprehensible
Allure
Masochists of
Everything pure

Watch the world die
From afar
Irrevocable despair
Promising allegiance
To a life I cannot
Bear

Killing myself with
Indecision
On the perimeter
Of sanity
In the psychotropic prison
And psychotic affliction

Here it comes again
The voices, getting louder
It doesn't feel good anymore
How do I escape
Escaping?
Where do I go when my sanctum
Has been compromised?
Unable to quiet
The insurgents afoot
Incurable, incalculable
Indecision
Lost, finding my way home
Left in between existence
Alongside myself
Alone

The cold, inhuman ability
To sacrifice one's own mind
Hanging onto the coat tails
Of free thought
Journey we now,
Into the nightmare
Ignoring loss of
Comprehension
Vacated laws of
Apprehension
Arming latent illness
Plotting revenge
Beneath the surface

Here it comes again
I hear it getting louder
It doesn't feel good anymore
Who will save the lifeguard
When he's about to drown?

Can you see me?
Can you hear my cry out?
He looks to find
There's no one around

Searching indefinitely
For myself
Lost in another
Under the guise of
Someone else
Why does it matter?
Seemingly insignificant
In a moment of clarity
Just breathe for a moment
Shoved back in reality
"Am I dreaming," he asked
His reflection replied
The answer profound
Unknowingly died

I sold my soul to get here
On the periphery of realization
Stuck on the perimeter of reality
Reentry revoked
Forced to sit idly
As my life passes
Before my eyes

This is my letter
Unable to deliver
This is my life
Unable to decipher
This is my nightmare
That I've never dreamed before

Trapped in the prison
I've constructed on my own
Locked myself in four walls
Of uncertainty
Built in the center of being
Unnoticed by the proprietor
Frailty prevalent
Implosion of the mind
Leading to the ******* of
The insanity
I've come to find

Death looms at the end
Of the candlestick
Walk hand in hand
With me
Fellow traveler of
Uncharted paths
My fellow affliction
With the unknown
Unable to save myself
From the pain I know
Awaits me

Here it comes again
Inescapable, maniacal laughter
It doesn't feel good anymore
And all I ever wanted
Was your guiding hand
Complacent in lies
Forcing deafening cries,
For there will be
No reprise
As my soul flutters
And dies

Death for sale
Ten will take you away
Consumed by the thought of it
No more worry
No more being suppressed
This other kingdom
Unknowingly repressed
Delve deeper into the nightmare
We lie together
Naked
Unashamed
Open to the probing
Fingertips
Of the world
Unable to speak
Sleep paralysis,
Yet this is no dream
Wide eyed
Searching
Unable to scream

Incommunicable desires
No longer latent
Unsuppressed is the disease
Of your discontent
Insufferable, forcible pain
Towards the ones loved most
Catatonic, embryonic
Feeble mind
Please save me from myself

Forgive me, father
For I know not what I do
Forgive me, mother
For I do not blame you

Plastic state of being
Suspended in the viscous
Coagulant of stolen thought
And free will
Drowning in my
Own enjoyment
Of self suffering

How will you remember me?
A trembling voice
To read my eulogy?

Forget the things I should have said
This demoness I've brought to bed
Speaking in riddles
Bewilderment of the senses
Deeper appreciation
For the subjugation of man

War criminals in suits
Pretentious, cowardly vestiges of man
Surrounded by an air of
Undeserved arrogance
Getting fat on young girls
Sending their children to war
Safeguarded by a desk
And the allure of change
Obscene, disgusting animals
Consuming their weight daily
In the profit of drugs and
Devised disease
Profiteers of death
Politicians work the corners

And I fall,
Too weak to carry on
Can't escape my own
Lonely, cold, loveless
Gaze
Black holes in my head
Leading into the depths of
My soul
Emptiness pervading
Madness running rampant
Destroying who I once was
Tearing to pieces
My uniqueness
Stripped of self
Thrown back to march
Within the masses
Towards impending demise

Staring into the eyes
Of the serpent
Turned to stone
Numb to emotion
Numb to pain
I cry out for substance
I miss the person
I used to be
The person you loved
Before you met me

Relieve me now of sin
Unto re-birthing, begin
Relieve me now of this burden
Knowledge and shame
Relieve me now of myself
And self inflicted pain

There it goes again
Making me feel dour
It doesn't feel good anymore
Purge me of this dependency
Ancient, carnal need
Necessity of loathing the infinitesimal

I've met the devil in my dreams
She looked a lot like you
Dreaming in wakefulness
Awakened desire in dreams
What is my intention?

Do I provide a function
Or functionally provide?
Are you living in a nightmare?
Have you gone to sleep and died?

Synesthesia upon awakening
My sensory perceptions
The permutation of the
Infinite

Children of the wilderness
Remove us from the
Impurities of societal disorder
Relieve us of the blandishment
Of media driven fallacies
As the masses are hoarded,
Spoon fed their own flesh,
And directed onward
By the pusillanimous grave robbers
Awarded with the title of
Government official
Given diplomatic immunity
And free reign over
The direction of our lives

There lies a serenity
Beneath the quiet surface
Of the ocean
The ocean floor is vast,
Uninhabited promise

I have developed an acute prescience
For what will come

Man unknowingly conspires
Against himself,
For the good of man
Cannot overcome
The evils of mankind
Conquering in the name of
Worthless ideals
And fruitless endeavors

Conforming to nonconformity
You're only fooling yourself

Wandering about in a dreamy state
With unexplained expectations
For some sort of happy outcome
Welcome to my nightmare
My inescapable kismet
Defend me from myself
I have become
My own worst enemy
Just a hyena looking for
A lions share
More animalistic than
A starving predator

Morally ambivalent
Acting upon
Inconclusive notions
There is no stability
In this loose earth
Sinking ever deeper
Into life unbeknownst
To me
Quicksand enveloping
Sanity and conscience
Leaving behind
Only memories of
What we ought to have
Become

Been suppressing emotion
For so long
Seems like forever
Since I've gone
Numb to the heartache
Blind to the happiness
Rediscovered childhood
At the end of my life

The words become a
Flowing river
My pen cannot dance
Quickly enough
To capture my
Escaping tongue

Discovering escape
Through self sufficiency

Sanity is nomadic
Traveling from
Person to person
Mind to mind
At any given moment
We are all insane

Brain waves sway in this cerebral cyclone.
Eating, breathing, bleeding in a home that isn't my home.
Breathing? BREATHING? What are we doing that for?
Abusing and losing. But who's keeping score?
Racing, chasing, running in a circle now.
The same train of thoughts has fallen off the tracks now.
Trying to abide by all your stupid rules now.
Searching for the answers in a mind that's shut downnnnnnn..

Get me out of this new cerebral cyclone.
Ringing! RINGING! That isn't a telephone!
Air-conditioned suppositions and amenities to die for.
View of the pool and a washer-dryer combo.
It's useless to use this scattered brain jumbled mess.
We go from 60 to zero.

But we wear less to impress.

Now we're preparing to pretend that this isn't the end.
When we know that it's time to detonate.
We hear the wind chime now, it's time to unwind now.
But to be thrown off the rocker' s our fate.

Oh, what we'd give for a sweet cerebral cyclone.
Noisy voices in my head, but at least I'm not alone.
Dreaming.. Dreaming... Leave us on the bathroom floor.
Lovely ****** tub with amenities galore.

We were the ones,
Self-chosen ones,
And we had seen enough.
And we had heard enough
To be tired of the drama;
The games that our mamas
And our Papas played
The plans they laid
That so often did not work.
The pensions and the perks
That so often left them bitter
Mumbling curses about quitters
As they argued over parking spaces
And carefully averted their faces
When people were denied rights
Because they were not white
Or sometimes because Jews
And non-whites could not be
Members of their sororities
And country club amenities.

They demanded no dark skin
And objected to what we dressed in
And wanted us to cut our hair
And go find a decent job somewhere
To start an acceptable career
And get a decent nine to five
To work as long as we were alive.
We knew they were trying to protect
To drive us to the life they projected
That would help us get a salary
And develop the kind of misery
And sense of hopelessness;
The exact kind of mess
They were living
And they weren’t forgiving
When we rebelled and fought
And shunned the trinkets they bought
That they thought would tempt us
To buckle on the harness;
The long-term promise.

We rejected the temptation
To join the workaday nation
And get into the drinking
Nine-to-five way of thinking.
We swapped the whiskey
For something they found risky.
We smoked our marijuana
And talked about nirvana
In our love-beads and batik
We left family homes to seek
And ultimately to find friends
Who wanted the same ends
And would work with us,
And they would walk with us
To the love-ins and protests
And help us pen requests
For marches and gatherings
To demonstrate our misgivings
About who got what
And who did not
And how and when
And which were not seen as men.
But we saw poorly disguised slaves
We knew we wanted to save.

We were going to fix the world
So, we waded into insults hurled
And high-powered fire hoses.
They broke our arms and noses
And trod on our signs
And drew a line
Between us and the public.
We were criminals and suspects
In crimes they invented;
We patchouli oil scented
Hippies wearing Birkenstocks
Without any socks
And jeans with protest patches
Singing our snatches of songs
Like “We Shall Overcome Someday”.
They couldn’t hear a word we would say.
They just cursed us and objected
And made sure we were subjected
To as much stonewalling as the law
Could put up against us all.

We were going to fix the world,
And we got LBJ on our side, like Jack
He went on the attack
And changed things for the better
Still not to the letter of the law
But a bit more spirit
Began to exist in it
Because blacks were acknowledged
And could finally go to college
In white schools
Adhering to the rules
The bigots had always ignored.
And unlike before, the police
Actually kept the peace
Unless it involved demonstrations
Against the crimes of our nation
Against another nation
That never attacked us
Never even threatened us.
These protest made us criminals
And that is what the cops thought of us.

Yes, by the time Nixon was going
After everyone began knowing
What a rat he was and because
He got caught, we saw
Him get on the copter and leave
And without a thought to grieve
We wanted our country to cease
Being some kind of insane police
In an Asian country few of us knew.
To stop what they put our troops through
And bring the people back here
So they could end the killing and fear
That our country was generating.
The debating was through
And the country started anew
By ending that situation.
Peace descended on the nation
And we took credit.
We did do some of it.
Then, we quit.

We started small companies
Selling handmade gifts and soaps
Not becoming the dopes
We fought our parents not to be
But more the people we ought to be
Living in hippie enclaves
That turned into yuppie enclaves
And we got fatter.
But that didn’t matter.
We had our memories
And we had our old war stories
Of marching, and protesting
And they were interesting enough
That we lost the will to be tough
And let the objections slide
And hid inside our mini-farms
And ignored when people were harmed
By many of the same atrocities
That fueled our animosities
Just a generation before.
We decided it was not our war
And sat on our hands.
And drifted like the sands.

Traffic came to a halt as signal turned red again,
I heard a small kid knocking at the window pane.
I looked up suddenly and met his eye,
My face turned frowzy - not sure why?

Begging for a 10 rupee note in exchange of a flag,
Scores of other such items he carried in his bag.

Something about the set of his face suggested a despair,
Maybe he wanted to say something but he couldn't dare.
Maybe his leaders had covertly kept an eye on him,
Thus flagging him down from expressing his whim.

He just pretended that everything is fine,
Was it because otherwise, he would've nothing to dine?
I looked into his eyes, which couldn't hide it all,
Gently I started reading through his eyeball.

The desire to be rescued from poverty and pain,
The outlook over his dreams to start all again.

The delicate and subtle hands were badly bruised,
The plight of his innocence had left me confused.
The tears went unseen and the voice unheard,
Aspirations of flying high like a free bird.

Three, two, one and the signal turned green,
He flashed a gentle smile and passed by the scene.

Throughout that day, my mind was confronted with the thought,
His silence was loud, apparently speaking a lot.
(Shayad uski khamoshi bohat kuch keh gayi thi...)

Who will provide them all the necessities?
And help them with their basic amenities!!
Who will find them a decent vocation?
Food, shelter, clothing and education!!

From the House Of Ali -Najaf to the House Of Hussain-Kerbala,
Swarms of people walk 80kilometres for threes days- united,
The largest peaceful gathering in the world with free services,
An experience like no other.
Blessed are those who walk,
More blessed are those who serve.
No discrimination,
Regardless of sect, profession or social status,
Rich or poor,
Young or old,
Men or women,
In wheel chairs, crutches or with Zimmer frames,
Prams or hand carts,
All march with respect and dignity,
With one thought in mind,
To pay allegiance to Hussain,
Who sacrificed his head for humanity.
Every eye is moist,
Every heart torn in grief,
Chanting"Labbaik Ya Hussain."
With an iron will to complete the walk.
A nation, war-torn, wounded,
Embraces the whole world in the name of Hussain,
The longest dining table,
Where every zuwar is honoured and treated like royalty,
To pay in currency, none,
Only love and kindness and an urge to serve the zuwars.
Along the roadside are set up Mowakebs (tents),
That provide every kind of facilities and amenities ,
Food,beverages medicines,toiletries,
Fresh clothes if need be, shower rooms and toilets,
A massage of your feet,
Services to charge or repair your phone's,zimmer frames or prams,
Anything for the zuwars,
All in the name of the Ahle bayt,
Mohamed,Ali,Fatema,Hassan and Hussain.
What Hussain and his followers were denied is served with outstretched arms,
The aftermath  of Kerbala was more tragic and callous,
The tears of Binte Zainab that retold the tragedy again and again,
Has born fruits,
The zuwars multiply in numbers
every year,
The rewards greater.

Road Trippin, with my click
Excited as all hell
Blaring Beats through Bama
Salty ocean I can smell

We reach the main strip
Find the Days Inn
First we eat our fill
Now where’s my gin

The beach is a constant party
Sunup to sundown
We have three rooms connected
Hailing  from T Town

Many more friends are here
Joining our festivities
We spent more money on *****
Then any other amenities

Man after man begins to drop
Who will last the night
Incorporate  the puke and rally
Get back in the fight

The week has reached it’s close
Ready to head home
Yet once we leave I know to well
I’ll  miss the sea’s white foam

Well so long my dear Panama
Another trip I will make
For I had the time of my life
On my first spring break

As a child I dabbled in ******

No barbie was safe from the hands of their god

Ran hills caked to the toe
Roughed terrain with neighborhood boys

They called me girl
But I felt boy

Upon later years I learned:
Dress
Skirt
Bra
Flower
Amenities accustomed to this body;
A bustling street of hormones without a
red light

Next were *******—
Wild & rambling, I soon
Mastered the art of shrinking

I kissed my first boy & felt it rattle through my bones
His hair an ocean in my hands as I rose up
to the surface

Later I discovered the shared experience of Woman,
Shifting about the world as a silly metaphor
Carved fingers into mace & metal
Ankles clinking busily on a subway platform

In learning to fight
The young boy dwindled into memory and
I couldn’t sense shape anymore

Fell in and out of love with woman and man alike,
Sinking deep into salt & sand

These days I can’t help but wonder if
attraction is a mode of defense
Or that of love

These days I run hills in heels
Caked to the toe in color

--
c

Day One:
A voice speaks to me.
When you realize that being lost is so close to being found, you see a sea of family members plagued within the lineage of licentious newborns and hospital beds. You become yourself, a lisp.

Day Two:
Long ago in a city left unscorned he was torn, from the cokeheads and colorful regimes, angels sing long songs of separation anxiety and **** withdrawal.  I was torn from the deadbeats of supposed society and three day vicodin trips into my mind. So can you let me know when I get there? ‘Cause I left there running…I wonder, did someone ever tell you that two strangers could twist around your neck at beck and that three parked cars and seventeen lonely nights could haunt you for the rest of your faces.

Day Three:
Tell me of your drug induced hallucinations.

Day Four:
Wait. Hear. Can’t you listen to the relapse? Stop, think. No. gone. Left. Love. Return. My curious addiction. Go back into yourself and listen. Can’t you hear your soul call to me? It’s loud.

Day Five:
I remember prizes at the bottoms of cereal boxes, right before the net broke. Will you be first? Snap back to reality.
It’s dark in here. Wretch from me… I am crying, screaming,
haha! I’m melting inside!

Day Six:
By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower, but the seed inside
Caked over in grief, we are not plates that match. But fools of folly caught in a sea of coke and disillusioned discord. Speed stands between directing and orders to death’s soldiers.

Day Seven:
The difference between God and his counterpart is that he makes exceptions!
Except me.

Day Eight:
Accept me!
Please.  
Wait.
No.
don’t slow,
speed.
I can only take so much forgiveness,
is a decision, and I cannot make it.
I am without it, leave me breathless.

Day Nine:
The angel of death waits
He comes for me, but I am running, finding, hiding my inner Nemo in the hands of oxycodon, privileged in the amenities of amphetamines.
I am tired of running!
Haggard.
Take away my hands, my restraints.
Let me feel
again.
Please.

Day Ten:
I am awake.
There is an apple in my field of vision.
Kiss it. Love it.
Take it to hedonism and back again.
But it knows too much.
So tell it everything will be ok.
It lives in epilepsy.
So placate it.
Resurrect my apocalypse.

I remember well
The creaking of
One hundred year old
Pine planked floor
And the ticking
Of the 100 year old clock
In my family's old home
Before the highwaymen
Took it with the widening
Of Highway 91
But Mom got her new house
Set back just a little
She loves it and new amenities
At least they didn't steal the barn
Or clock
But I miss the creaking and the ticking
Of my childhood home
On Highway 91
Across from Stoney Creek
My real home

5 W's Of The Desert Walker.

WHAT does a man in the heat dream of?
Maybe he dreams of the sweet taste of the rain
What amenities does he seek in a bare sky with only the sun?
He is given an audience with his delusions.
He is granted a moment of peace under his imaginary palm.
He can swim in the dry waters of the oasis till the sand shreds his skin.

WHEN does his vagrant breath retreat?
Maybe as the expired adventure turns to torture?
In a blink his shade diminishes
His view of the horizon brings drought to his tongue
As his fatigue pays homage to the expanding desert.

WHERE does a lost traveler turn when every direction leads nowhere?
Does he look up for divinity?
A panicked man, with his hands to the skies, calls for relief.
But its not the cool he's expecting, its mercy for his soul when his time comes.

WHO does he hear when his eyes begin to fail?
Family, a child, maybe a lover with soft flesh?
Face down in the dunes he can taste the salty blend of the earth.
The voice of his cherished love echoes in his fading consciousness.
A great comfort in his last request.

WHY do we fall down?
Because we're weak and unbalanced.
So we can get back up?
No sometimes we are just not as big as our ego would have us believe.
The road to triumph can be hard to traverse unprepared.
But the value of the experience can be as priceless as the outcome.

-Alexis J. Meighan-

Outside an average sort of house
Upon a quiet street
There stood a man of honest heart
All grim and weather beat
His face awash with bafflement
A letter in his mits  
With Lots of Love from God himself
And golden twirly bits

He'd read it over breakfast
Then read it on the loo
Considered re-addressing it
For number forty two
Within the silver envelope
In angel script, embossed
Were plans to build a massive boat
Materials and cost

It seemed, he'd have to build  it
As the letter looked legit
So off he sped, to B&Q;
To show the holy writ
The manager was confident
The price was mighty bold
Delivery on Saturday
For every item sold

So late, on Friday evening
He popped out for a walk
Upon his road, he drew a boat
In vivid yellow chalk
When morning dawned, a knocking
And some paperwork to mark
For a thousand tonnes of timber
For construction of an ark

He set out with his hammer
And he smote the nail and tack
By afternoon, the road was blocked
With traffic tailing back
A keel was just discernible
Beginning to take form
By evening, the media
Was whipping up a storm

Up marched a bold reporter
From the Three Times Weekly Herald
He said "So you'd be Noah then?"
"Not me" said he "I'm Gerald"
"I got this 'Oly telegram
And God has chosen me
I fill a boat with wildlife
And sail the salty sea"

By night he was a laughing stock
On YouTube and the news
But a sturdy man, was Gerald
And most vehement in his views
When asked to show the letter
He graciously refused
"Just have a little faith" he said
"We'll soon see who's amused"

The church were being skeptical
And held the press at bay
The Council sent him letters
At a rate of four a day
The hull was soon completed
And he laboured on inside
Constructing some amenities
To house them on the tide

A swimming pool for waterfowl
A wall of rodent wheels
With bowls for every kind of fish
And a big one for the seals
A filing box for butterflies
To stow them all away
A pigeon hole for pigeons
For the bees , a large bouquet

A puzzle for the monkeys
A wardrobe for the moths
A lion for the antelope
A jacuzzi for the sloths
A fully fitted nursery
For when the ewes had lambed
The wasps would have a picnic
And the beavers could be dammed

Through night and day he toiled
He relieved himself in shifts
In time, he built a sauna
And a pair of turbolifts
The council grew impatient
And the neighbours were in fits
They begged him to remove his boat
Entire or in bits

Then promptly, after dinner
As he sat upon the deck
There called a suited doctor  
With a badge around his neck
There followed many questions
With a host of funny looks
While outside went from 'fine and warm'
To 'just the thing for ducks'

That night, began the deluge
So Gerald found his crew
He robbed each local pet shop
And attacked the nearest zoo
Collected every animal
And fastened them in tight
The waters coursed along his street
As dawn replaced the night

'Twas then a thought occurred to him
A kind of mental swerve  
His road was more a crescent
So his ark was on a curve
But just then the currents took him
He sailed off along the bend
For six weeks, going round and round
To land at home, The End

**

Blind to the truth,
While fed up to the top
Eventually load of my shoulder
As i Glanced at my future ,
Retrieved every note
So i started putting in work.
Eventually , It will pay off
Patience is the key to amenities of life
we glance at death no care for stepping forward
with doubt I gained my benefits
to self assurance.

High rises burst from soft Earth’s flesh

Was it even ready for us?

From an extraterrestrial’s perspective we’re a disease upon this gentle cerulean Elysium

I’m living in the mouth of duality

I hear it speak as I leave my block and give a peace sign to the abandoned residences in progress

On the block I currently live, the sidewalk is cracked into drunken mazes and yet

                            Directly across, the neighbors stand upon freshly minted asphalt and into a metropolitan construct made for the modern brain: built in amenities, contemporary textiles and garage parking

Are we next?

To be bought and sold, if so, can we at least have a plan for the residents?

Will tenants be invited to the newborn paradise? We have the budget to feed cement trucks faster than hungry mouths. It’s become a bad habit

yet I sit by the man-made imperfections

hoping someone cares enough to drip their Eden into the palms of my neighbors

If time will tell I’ve been getting quite the silent treatment

Travel a little deeper and….

Cosmopolitan crossroads coexist with beggars and lost folk….

Since when was the speech divided between affluent and broke?

"IDK?" The duality replies

I thought you’d say that.

within my own vicinity
i search for simple serenity
tending to my own tendencies
mending without amenities

sick and twisted remedies
a bitter sweet identity
my slit-wristed entities
the enemies of my memories

Five more dossiers slam down
beside you, bosses look stern
and flick through to spite you,
crossing off task after task:
appraisal target attitude,
shred your worries and feign
a false sense of gratitude,
scribble a signature, pretend
that you won't work here long.
It's just a stop gap, well,
one of two, perhaps after this
you'll be hired by another few.

Ten minute lunch, more bitter
than ***** tabasco juice
but ****** Mary and Jesus,
keep your mind on the salary
and you might get through
tapping and typing away
for a parasitic conglomerate
who barely remembers you.
Wolf down the freedom,
spark a fossil fuel fire on
your tobacconists’ anti-stress
breathing flute, clench
fists as you trudge through
the muck and the mire.

They laugh as you slump
over your desktop, under
the fifteen thousand word
count a day, hundreds
of calls and email favours
still you get payed for less
than half of your labour.
One look to the surroundings,
the folks in your office, step
back from your desk and hand
in your notice; sell your assets,
share your amenities,
cut off your phone-line,
don’t pay your licence fees.

At the door, the postman
struggles with bills and notices,
pushing and prying
more and more letters
the poor fellow moans as
you almost clap his efforts.
Gathering dust, your post
gets pushed up the stairs.
Knocking out your wellbeing,
this builds up in piles to
the height of your ceiling
until one day you awaken
with no gas or lighting,
nothing to quench or feed,
your rumbling stomach
near delirious being.

No more in awe, frightened
to express your distaste
for nine to five slavery
you pile a large steel cylinder
with technology and clutter;
letters and junk-mail literature.
Lighter fluid marinade you
feel empowered like
the folks at the gas board.
Pull out a matchbox
strike to a major chord.
Prepare for the roaring
of bureaucratic nonsense
burning and fizzling.

Strike one, the phosphorus
occupies your nostrils,
how sweet the smell
of keratin, and butane,
kerosine and hydrogen.
Strike two the match ignites,
the wind breaks your bindings,
you relax with such laughter
that the flickering orange
flame blows into a cinder,
smoke pining. Rig the pack
and pull out your portable
lighter, the whole box of
matches sets joyfully on fire.

Like witch over cauldron
you cackle and crack up
toss in the phosphorescent
rectangular prism to
the concoction which kept
you imprisoned for month
after month; year after year
you’d forgotten to fulfil
that dream, pull out your
mobile and text your queen
‘Let’s move to the mountains
and bask in the heat; revel in

rebellion. Reject, neigh, defeat
the notion that we must sit
at computers like digital sheep
that we can’t cross an ocean
on our own two feet.
We can grow our own grain
and cull our own wheat’
Whip out your tickets and jump
on the flight here lies a path,
come forth and fulfil it tonight.

it was the
summer
of 13

when a city
consumed in a
Cronut crazed
heat wave

amped
the tenderloin

slicing the underbelly
of Hell's Kitchen

packing meat for
Russian oligarchs
pouring fistfuls
of petrol rubles
down the
thirsty gullets
of glutinous
developers

their distended
bellies welling
with aching
avarice
from an
extended
stay at an
All You Can Eat
zero interest
smorgasbord
courtesy of
Uncle Sam’s Diner
somewhere off the
West End

getting fat
on the land
reclaimed
and rebuilt
on the dust
and detritus
of an expired
Great Society

Bloomie's metropolis
rising on the rubble
of razed neighborhoods....

the vertical leaps
shooting ever upward
the heady windows
framing portraits
of endless replication
offering the amenities
of the vain comfort
found in ghettos of
soulless high rises
and the billowing
gray perspective
of blanched out
street cafes
brewing $9 lattes
and big box
boutiques busy
busking the
latest rage
of sweat repelling
yoga mats and
wearable apps

America’s Mayor
Giuliani paved the way
he arrested all
the squeegee men
confiscated their Windex
dumped it down
the sewers and filled all
vacancies at Rikers

a year after Sandy
rolled up the Hudson
breaching the banks
of West Street
licking the streets
clean of urban
flotsam the
surging boom
bloomed

Bloomie bankrolled
a red carpet
for his global
fraternity of
plutocrats
unleashing a
tsunami of
shekels

washing away
the fading
memories of
Captain Sully’s
cool headed
lunch pail
heroism proving
that 727’s can
walk on water
was now passe

Lou Reed
left town
the wild side
monetized by
the belching
banality of
Urban Hipsters

millennial
babes in toy land
embarked on an endless
shopping spree
where credit limits
never expire and
giddy narcissism
greased with entitlement
orders up room service
as the next course
in this endless
movable feast

Music Selection
Philip Glass
The Hours



9/8/13
NYC
jbm

within my own vicinity
i search for simple serenity
tending to my own tendencies
mending without amenities

sick and twisted remedies
a bitter sweet identity
my slit-wristed entities
the enemies of my memories

Concrete walls
Solid foundations
High-rises
Rarefied air
Epic elevations
Cornered lives
Distant views
Modern amenities
Unaware neighbors
Plush condominiums
Soft beds
Weary eyes
Deprived of sleep
Lonely hearts
Sleeping pills
Soothes nerves
No dreams
Only hallucinations
Constant fear
Of going down
Alien grounds
Will reclaim

So many politicians here in
My well-beloved-and-endowed country
Ought about to be donning
A dunce's cap for their foolery.
That we are still as a well-blessed nation
And especially in this 21st century
Here--when many with determination
Have been leaping forward in prosperity
Of their country's soul, body and mind,
Advancing in different walks of life;
While we're yet groping, straining to find
Like a drunk the orifice of his wife--
Is shameful. Amenities are a far cry;
The well-being of the populace be yet
Poor; maternal mortality rate is high,
Besides other diseases that cause death.
Politicians vain many a title flattering
Love, as well as to be singing their praises
For doing and achieving less than nothing,
When plenty souls daily poverty dire face.
To other well-marshalled countries do travel
They and see how things there be better run.
I, like many, wherefore do often marvel,
Why they can't situation around goodly turn.
The monies in Nigeria that are  being looted
Be beyond sufficient to fix the decaying
And nonexistent infrastructures. Well rooted
Is corruption, the chief cause of our pains harrowing.

Lyrics written on Church walls
Bashful lurking Lucifer,
Carved glazes of canker crawling on the mead
Drinking vile torments of men
Lucifer hath angel been
Spread wings of human fate
guided men on burlesque dives
through historic and futile rage
Drawing on lost and regained have never been thy aim
For jeopardy in art's name is nothing but a lost game
God and man and Vinci guise
And letters of un-earthly paradise
And decades of poetry sinned
To unmask man through lyrical films
Morte, life, determining naught
Empty pages of science and draught
Realms of here and realms of there
Realms that thy heart found rare
Antonym of fright being scare
Is not what man learnt through time
And there as courage behooves and
Life draws you to her
Death seems close in the arms of beloved
Pain, man's secret armour
bellows courage with a fake accent
Coming of seasons and dawn and light,
Poetic romance fretful sight
World naught ready to love and cherish
Human cans't broil feel
April as thy knows
A heavenly soul of a year,
Brewing rose, carnations and dew drops in time
A certain cotillion towards the other,
A light breathing when eyes met
Beyond the language of the celestial walls
Eve and Adam through bright colour meadows
I see as thy eyelids quiver from haunts of past
And as night descends the maiden shy
With light prance of the lion he prances
Flesh by flesh swoon by temptation
Drops of naive lies
promises of eternity
Battles of Brunanburh
Horses line up to a steady flame
Fishes swim in fleshy rain
Draining mouth of Paris gates
Writing pages of descent
And on with thy fire of the month,
November rose in the wild grass of beams
Battle lost and won it seemed
On another hill a maiden swept her hair
Through rosy gleams and eye of glass
And smiled like the forbidden apple of fate
Jumped like the lion
left in dismay
songs of despair
An orchestra of pain
Nightingale of death bellows of wind
On sunday the fifth he had sinned
she had cried and shown the rose
cigarette and smokes
of nothing proposed
Flesh be thy crime
heart be thy muse
Naughts had been reflected
in thy abuse
Stricken the horror bladder
Rose with dismay
And to **** the canker
in whom the ***** played
Alone within thy celestial walls of God, Goddesses and fate
Questioning thy holy spirit
the mistakes thy made
Entrusted with athenian history
Women bearing dagger
Human sentiments are evil
Lucifer is the rightful dowager
It's him who sheltered blue
Evil is romance
hardly to swoon
The right and wrong and sadness grief
If they see world of poverty
And happiness a myth
And now trumpets of war
And experiences blithe
To see the world anew
whom is right?
If Lucifer the fallen angel saw
what was yet to see
God is a liar and heaven's a greed
Thy stealth steal within bosoms canker
hate, ****, juvenile crime,
Crime is the way
to drive horrors in time
Human history baffles thee!
Social etiquettes and manners of glee
Whom to fool and whom to wrought
The lamb, the tiger a hated must
Angels, demons painted square
whom to whom the battles were?
The right of man to sin and begone
are fated dramas of life and forlorn?
Brew the evil and feed thy good
Awake! Arise! never be fooled!
And sadness a step,
sudden and dark
Thy unending stairs to heaven abased
Lonely as autumn arises and leaves gather
Memories of child and man
Memories of fated hand
Thy walks through
Matured, mind of steel
Anguish concealed
A heavy sigh of a grown mind
Scorns the happy girl
And laughs over her dead pearls
Mind of a grown self
Visits Celestial walls,
The temple, the bed the wrongs
The right is a foolish girl
Inside her body the birth of a new world
the falls the laughs the pain the demands!
The gunshot of life
The circle of hope
And nursing and growing the cherub of flesh
Is they mother nature with a man of crest
The moon as it shines, shows horrors no more
But in thy heart, a maiden sad
To loose all she ever had
But to gain life
and knead love
To love love and to grow above
Lucifer reads bedtime stories
God saves the crown of glory
Life smiled and played along
Death for death
and finding songs
Growing up in lilac storms
She learned to battle and grow a home
Keen on her *** to bottle dreams
Milk and bread is new it seems
Tyranny with a ****** sword
Knives it's prey as it creeps from it's door
But in white she clad and drew the sword at hand
Tears as bows it drew
Battle of ages seen never so shrewd
The good plot for her
The evil shined
Who art evil or good
She painted blind
She called her demons risked her God
She became human is sad of all
Thy maiden story once again read
The man who left
Evil has no name
So good naught trust
for good is thee
Good is evil
That had been set free
Whom to whom
And what to name
Should haunt the grave
or visit a pray
For to pray is a prey
And grave is a paradise
Questions she darted
With wide eyes
I showed thee card where black and white
Rose to fame side by side
God is lucifer
heaven is hell
Man made tricks on walls
For stories to tell
Man is mortal
desires are innate
Soul is thy spirit that lies awake
Death of life is a soul that plots
Stays on Earth in shallowed knots
To be beyond and to see the light
Have naught done that
Life is a sight
Not seen to man, if realised is beyond
To trust in fame is all that is done
Meekly shown courageous sprout
To do good or evil is a judgement about
The religious amenities made by man
To shun Lucifer is yet in thy hand
To pray him is a choice thus
But to prey pray has been man's lust
Again memories squint of thy maid on the meadows
Flesh on flesh haunts thy skin
Shallow breadths and mortal eyes
Rise beyond skies they speak
What sky what ground
What lava and heavenly abode
To grow old in folktales
Aside dusky shores
Man knows all
Man knows good
Good of man
Is a questionable truth
Man knows evil
Man knows crime
Man knows nothing
He is lost in time
Man knows man
is what tale they should
Write on walls instead of evil and good
Evil might harm
And good might ease
But man does both
And later he grieves
For grief hath no church nor temple nor mosque
Grief is inside man's chest
Pumping through his *******
Of Eve's fool and Adam's greed!
Of the canker of the holy grail
Of the lies he feed!
Who art to decipher life beyond life
When life is tormenting
even in it's sight
Who death, desert or leaves the soil
Who plants and grows in thy turmoil
Who loves and cares and makes thy life
Who saves who draws and pushes knives
Who grows and finds peace in thy self
Who plots and fails and satisfies and helps
Who prays and begs and trust in him
Who prays and begs and trusts in sins
What the sins, what the truth
Human beings are born aloof
To end to grow to die or to be born
Man hath no power to tell of or scorn
Man is a flick
Man is a pride
Man draws wars
Man lies
Man brings flesh
Man grows thee
Man dies tomorrow
Man is me.

I live in Chemical Valley.
It sounds horrible:
Better you than me.
Perhaps.
I grew up here,
Where the southern sky burns
Bloodstone red,
Mixing colours with the evening suns.
The St. Clair carries Huron's ghostly horns
Past the flaring refineries,
To Detroit's waters.
We have stop signs
And other amenities
Small cities are proud to maintain.
I heard the housing market
Is sustained on the divorce rate,
And not the petro-chemical industry;
We're closing another high school next year;
And there was a gruesome woodlot-****/******
Last week on the Reserve.
Maniacs living out some sick web-site.
But the soccer pitches are full,
And our Mayor is the longest serving one in Canada.
Just around the corner
(everything is just around the corner),
Our flag flies over the bones of our second Prime Minister,
(he's from Edinburgh, Scotland);
I've walked a good stretch of the fifty miles
Of beach we have running north,
Past cottages, parks, camps, etc.
We've way too many ***-holes;
And for many years,
We were featured on the ten dollar bill.

But the new houses!
Who is buying them as we move eastward,
Away from the lake and river?
Newly minted single moms;
Rejected men.
We lived in one house,
Once,
One house.
We now occupy five.
Two of which
Are too far away
From Chemical Valley.

Deluded kid
How does the steel feel
Tightly biting your blistered wrists
Were you prodded or pushed
To your hard, lonely bed for the night
With the only amenities being down time and
A mirror in which you may contemplate how far you've fallen
These ***** walls are reserved for fools who confuse
And exalt their own pithy ideals of love
Over and above the real thing
Easy as that is to do
You've really done it this time
So you'd better guard your heart
Though it's almost turned into ******
Hear me
When they open that door
And tell you it's time to leave
Turn your nose to the south
Take measured steps and follow it
Into the badlands of Mexico
Don't turn back, no, not even once
For if you return
I will stretch your death out so long you'll beg me
For swifter justice
Deluded kid, your game is up
Remember this week as the most mischievous of your life
And as days in which you made the biggest mistakes of your life
Mistakes that will eventually cost you your life
Deluded kid, soon you will be enlightened
Deluded no more

the girl

again and again
until she is born

-

this, too, we miss

ahead

-

here is how I know
I am harmed:

somehow
there is no door

not even
a room

yet I am
trapped

-

I understand why guys say muscular, fierce.

they think in wolf pups and they think
in dog

whistles.

Upon those streets the blood did run
children playing having fun.
The soldiers came cold and callous
their hearts filled with malice.
Nobody was immune no mercy shown
seeds of hatred were sown!

That day was but another in their fight
to see the next morning light.
Food a luxury all amenities destroyed
with their lives the army toyed.
Oppression and misery all they knew
surely a reason they were due.

The bombs rained down on the meek
their bodies increasingly weak.
Resistance grew the houses crumbled
and the ground rumbled.
Their faith through adversity not shaken
though many loved ones taken!

This scenario has forever been repeated
their spirit can never be defeated.
Nothing changes in the history of mankind
always the aggressors and maligned.
Centuries have passed the coffins filled
forever the innocent killed!

The Foureyed Poet.

My imagination, no limitation.
I welcome in positive vibration.
My brain is a grand central station.
Swept away like the waves, call me vacation.

A notion about waves in the ocean:
They travel across continents, in a constant motion.
Watch the power approaching.
Realize the wave is one energy,
That never lost its devotion.

I welcome in new positive energies
Like amenities, a necessity.
I'm an attorney attesting on
Life's incredible journey.
Join me, but warning; I prefer soaring.

My torus is lush as forest.
Living like an alien tourist.
I insist on artistic visions to guide me,
Not living for pride or vanity.
I'm just a human, grooving, celebrating earth inside of me.

Chiming on with Nature's charm.
Living my life, devoid of harm.
I can do this a lifetime long,
With nothing to lose, none to alarm.
I wear a badge of peace upon my arm.

Come, the Dark lady to my new age Will,
you, my female evil that knows no time.
I try to forget; my dreams you are still
and once again I am forced to the rhyme.
Intertwined story with the greatest wright,
I sit here thinking of our sorry plight.

Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,
yet there she is again when I see you.
You, the only one who makes me cower,
as the winter tides return all I knew.
How oft when thou my music, music play'st,
and you, my muse, the source of this play list.

To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell,
this not foreseen in your gypsy-like cards.
From the lost and beautiful past I rebel
and not continue the path of the bards.
And yet by heaven I think my love as rare
as those who brace true love, hence my despair.

Although I swear to myself alone,
to you, this love I shall never admit.
Together we speak in a hopeful tone,
But to speak the truth I shall ne'er submit.
To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace
and perhaps this one day, I shall embrace.

Prison my heart in thy steel *****'s ward.
Why, warden of my heart, you not relent?
Why does my heart continue to be barred?
You continue to deny my repent.
The statue of thy beauty thou will take
and for you, serve my sentence with no slake.

Not once vouchsafe to my will in thine?
To once again live our moment of bliss.
To know for a moment that you were mine
I'd barter all, for the bad angel's kiss.
Make but thy name thy love, and love that still
can open your heart to the new age will.

Thou blind fool, love, what dost thou to mine eyes?
I'm caught in the mischief of cupid's game.
I know the truth, yet I hope you realize
that your heart secretly calls out my name.
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed,
for we both desire to walk abreast.

Her pretty looks have been mine enemies,
and my secret rival does not deserve.
You are worth all of life's amenities,
and you, the muse, to my banned oeuvre.
Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express,
that which my lips shall ne'er ever  profess.

But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise.
For what they see is your icy cruel veins.
My heart blinded, yet there's truth through my eyes,
and they cannot be fooled by my heart's feigns.
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
expel the ice so our hearts can abide.

But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
for there can still be time left in our song.
I'm tortured thinking of all that could be.
'Tis harrowing stars, with my heart they prong.
Yet this I shall ne'er know, but live in doubt.
I wish this, to you, I could talk about.

'I hate,' from hate away she threw.
The Hathaway pun I must bring to light.
Can you save me by saying “not you?”
Or shall you add to this murderous plight?
And death once dead, there's no more dying then.
So please save me now, or your feeling's ken.

My love is as a fever, longing still.
And I am fiending for her to embrace.
My female evil, the reason I'm ill,
despite reason, my heart shall ne'er efface.
How can it? O! How can love's eye be true?
Despite our past, I am in love with you.

Canst Thou, O cruel! Say I love thee not?
Do you truly wish to cast me away?
From the past, is the future truly naught?
All of these questions I wish to allay.
More Worthy I to be belov'd of thee
Yet my heart fears that this shall never be.

Her love, for whose dear love I rise and fall,
seen by my actions to master the dance.
I do wonder how our fate shall befall.
Our connection seems to be more than chance
To swear against the truth, so foul a lie!
But the truth, a sin of the deepest dye.

The wheel of fortune has spun our way,
we’re on Spring-break for 8 more days!

The transition to leisure was as smooth as oil,
without classes, he’s just a guy and I’m his girl.

For three weeks we’ll have had the suite to ourselves,
it has all the amenities, it’s like a hotel.

We’ve never been together, alone, for so long before,
it’s so deliciously heterodox, it’s like a reward.

Peter (my BF) observed, “This will be a reality check.”
Yeah, he’s a hopeless romantic.
“Sorry sir,” I said, “It's my policy not to cash reality checks.”

Nefertari
Amenities of the African lands
Indigenous black beautiful roses
Of the African soil

Dark and strong
In a black alluring archaic vogue
an amara in black woman

Sisters of samandzie
Balleting in a black dulcet rhythm
Of the African ancient song
With an
Idrissa desta
The power of Thee
Black Spiritus mundi

Brown eyes, Thick bones
Curly ***** afros
Dark is deep and strong
An authentic unique beauty of nature
Glows and Flourishing
From deep within

I like it black and strong

I'm barely at home
There's my wooden furniture
These my plates of chrome
A fridge full of nourishment
My marble dome
But I'm barely at home

I've barely a hearth
This a room of my choosing
That there my land on earth
My book shelf for musing
Amenities for mirth
But barely a hearth

I sold my soul
For a parking space
Mama told me not to
But I let it slip away

She died
Of the broken heart I gave her
Because I stopped calling
I stopped loving her

My love was for money
The quest to acquire
More
I live in a sea of amenities
Endless luxury and toys
But I don't know what fun is anymore

I climbed the stairs of success
Stepping on backs as I went
Leaving friends behind
Never looking back
I traded my best friend in
For a Lamborghini

Trophy wife
But I sleep with my secretary
Because she doesn't ask questions
Trophy children
But I've missed most of their birthdays
All they care about is money too
The shadow I cast shrouds their innocence
And one day
They will be me

I sold my soul for a parking space

congratulations on this special day

remembering the gain of freedom
from unjust monarchy
after hard struggles for democracy
and universal human rights

we also need to be aware
of new dependencies and tyrannies
that have since come among us quietly
and with deceptive lures of easy lives and riches
of glamor  reputation  millions of virtual followers
& other such amenities
try to persuade us that these are the only goals of our lives

the most decisive loss of independence
is when we do no longer feel its absence
and happily embrace the bars of our golden cage