Hanging her head into depths of an oubliette,
the toilet bowl grieves inside muddied ruin.

An early avocado and piles of bile simmer
inside porcelain wastelands. Her face, a dark fillet,

fat like a flea questing on skin. Fingers joust
her drawbridge mouth. Cavaliers cannot rescue.

Tiny talons scratch the back of her throat,
distant organs heaving during the battle

of the bulge. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.
She tastes it twice. Flecks of spit singe cheeks

like undersink chemicals. Her imperial
belly wails, a damsel distressed.

I'm just thinking of the man with his flawless rhymes and carefully calculated poems
And of the most poetic boy I've ever known
Wondering why I associated both of them with the color green

      ~       ~       ~

Green eyes
I've always wanted green eyes
Green is money
Green is growth
Green is spring
Green is life
But I've seen too much death
I've touched too much death
I've caused too much death
I've loved death
I've chased it, begged it, taunted it
Death is around me
I suppose that explains the blackness of my eyes

But your eyes
Oh the eyes that take away the pain
Those warm comforting eyes
That belong to a man I love so much it kills me every time I have to say goodbye
The man who I so desperately want to share everything with
The man who protects me
Who saves me
Saves me from the lies I tell without even speaking
My best friend that I can never keep
He is only on loan for brief moments
The moments I truly need him
The man who gave me love
The man who made me greater than myself

But your eyes
The hypnotizingly icy eyes of the boy I wanted to desire
I desired more than I was allowed
More than he allowed
More than they allowed
More than I could have
I lied lies he didn't believe
I guess that proves it
He was always smarter than me
A boy with eyes that could ****
Held his kindness close to his heart
He showed it to me in fleeting shadows and whispers
The boy who let me take a breath, though perhaps I held it in for too long

I am the dancing queen of all the eyesores
who sprang to the stars from one of the seesaws
in the moody playground where heaviest rain pours-
there’s no compensation for what the gutter endures.
When I fell back to Earth, I landed on seashores
between the horizon and an endlessness of moors.
I saw a single seagull take to sky and how it soars
and wonder about other things one usually ignores
until I seek out scuttling ***** carrying their claws
to protect them, I imagine, from the way the sea roars.
I saw a small wooden boat missing both of its oars-
that must hinder the rower wherever he explores.
After some time watching the bigger outdoors
I begin to feel sad about ceilings and doors.
But thunder comes in echoes of rumbling applause
and I don’t feel a part of it. It reminds me of wars.
The war is what happens while we do our chores,
or sit close to a mirror to examine our pores,
or pass away a rainy day completing jigsaws.
We are mutually something that the war ignores.
I skipped some stones and didn’t keep scores.
I tangled with questions of consequence and cause,
pondered my way back from fossils and dinosaurs
to a creaking house with long narrow corridors.
I wake up when the **** crows and the crow caws.
The Cheshire Cat smiles and licks invisible paws,
'We're all mad here. You think that dream is yours?'

Derelict, decrepit,
Just a waste of space
A relic from a different age
One who'd run the race

An eyesore
Gives the place a name
Represents a time long past
It's no longer in the game

A stiff wind would take it down
It's not worth a single dime
Take it down, demolish it
It's enemy is time

A single pane of glass is left
Cracked from side to side
In fact it's cracked the whole way through
As tall as it is wide

The others are all boarded
Keeping out nothing at all
The only thing the wood does
Is act as canvas to them all

Graffiti covers every space
That is left standing here
It used to be a factory once
That made a local well known beer

BUT ON THE OTHER SIDE....

Inside the building squatters sit
Derelicts, wastes of space
The building is their home for now
Away from the rat race

Eyesores, hidden in plain sight
Humanity at it's worst
That is the image given them
Because of addictions thirst

A stiff wind would take them down
So thin and frail are they
Protected by a building that
A storm could blow away

One side thinks it awful
The other, thinks it's good
An eyesore and a fragile shell
Of old bricks and glass and wood

But...for one plain window
Separating worlds apart
A crack runs through the window
It is the buildings heart.

Fluff and puff,
water plugs,
power plants,
paper over eyesores,
paint it matte,
pink as salmon,
pack the homeless
into the Bird's Nest,
ghettoise Moses,
bleed the Amazon
down to size,
moor the battleships
to Yamuna Bank,
let white elephants
run riot on warm Black ice
over those who won't
play ball in our
electric garden
free your head
from the rails
for what?
roti kapda makaan
or BSP ki maya?
be buried or a sport
let laal battis through
ab bus, stop
blaming it on Rio
don't you know
how India shone
in October 2010,
or that Russians love
their children too?
So what if they don't
believe in modern love?
Potemkin villages are
built brick by brick
by BRICS,
Red, Yellow, Orange
kilned to Black.

The dusk smells like the dank moldy parts of the basement, old and decrepit. The days are short, like lives of butterflies. Only stray cats roam the streets after dusk like men in trench coats looking for your children. This is where the buzz of sports games fights through voices like car accidents, wafting through the air with the liquor that fuels them. The mix of rotting seaweed flesh and burnt cheerios intoxicates the wharf, drunker then the teens in their parent’s basements. Anyone can tell you where every **** store and Tim Hortons lies, where bass and basket ***** echo in the roads of chicken wings and blizzards. ‘Beautiful River’ you are where the hearts are strong as bison and tongues sharper then sabers. Yet among the old eyesores you'll find the hope of a city. It screams through the rusty and cracked windows; negligence made mosaics. Based on a pride that runs deeper then it's waters, the strength of those who reside in this urban Crayola box crown and shine like the tips of the waves cascading past the falls.

and the streets breathed
as crows rose and took the sky
crying in anguish.

Broken Fence

Possibly the strangest way to start a piece and its ultimate purpose is to cry for our country it has so
Many elements let’s start with the innate gifts it provides it’s a story of history when this fence was new

Washington Jefferson Adams and the other founding fathers were plainly viewed stalwart strong not
Perfect but principled and within this rough hewn wood that had plenty of eyesores but such is the

Material God uses I don’t care to look back in a romantic or sentimental way but with the clearest eye
Demand of our selves honesty that will not lead us into unreasonable thoughts that will only weaken us

More but allow truth to work its constructive influence a movement through our conscience that will
Find in us the same store house of power that lead our fore fathers to face ridicule and stare death in

The face and not waver courage forged in battle that rose from the heaps of dead patriots that saw a
Nation of free men not minions of soulless weaklings paying tribute to someone else’s twisted fanciful

Schemes they looked far into the future and did see pastoral scenes where broken whitened fences
Were the collective places where wild flowers grow with breath taking beauty where gentle breezes are

Born from the inward souls of free men they carry this view by flowery fragrance it wafts far a field
Giving joy and pleasure as free men and women toil under a golden sun of opportunity through good

Honest hard work the land will endure and produce bounty for untold generations but it is going to take
A people who will engage in the battle and it will have to take another revolution to remove the

Quagmire that cripples political will and leaves everyone at risk of losing such a treasure that was  
Bequeathed to us at such great cost this is not an endorsement of the tea party or the occupy

Movement but somewhere beyond their feeble stumbling steps the answer is there as it was in the
Beginning it will take each of us searching and giving our all to find it we will never find it crying for

something so grand and asking to pay nothing for it

The only gift my father ever got me was a pair of dark blue roller blades

He dropped them off at my stuffy apartment
and away he sped on his motor cycle

I stuck my feet into the holy grail of our relationship
and it was a size too small

my father is no devil

but riding along the burning asphalt, ankles screaming in pain

I cursed him down to hell

when I got home I cast those eyesores out of heaven

to rot in the shadows of my closet

those **** roller blades

I'd always preferred skating

Eyes can be deceiving
In recieving that which we do not wish to see. Optical illusion creates a delusion of something more pleasing. Blinded to pain and misery. Its calculated in the sensory. Knowing this vision isnt seen through rose colored glasses we make believe. Looking only at the beauty past the ugly. We camouflage the eyesores. Blinking just once to change the perspective of all things in sight. We hide behind closed eyes to avoid the view of the world as it is. We overlook just so we dont have to see. Its only when we realy look do we find the truth hidden behind blue eyes.

A wreath of skulls
you want to hang on the wall.

I don't want to
lose the skin.
The land was bleeding.

Mars mission. A very
lonely flight, pulls me down.

Do you have a
pearl knife?
Small talisman, you used to wear
when you were a child
to ward off the evil spirits.

A buttonless chest. The map
you drew on the torso was tense.
The woods were nowhere. Only
the dry sands.

I wanted to make a slit in the stone,
to release the holy water,
but it was only tears―

The birds, the bees, the flowers, and the trees;
we are all of these.
We are nature- the creative wonders encompassed in a dark world.
We are the free flying hummingbirds whose wings flutter ever so lightly.
We are the bumblebees always in search of pure gold dust.
We are the flowers that bloom each May and die every December.
We are the roots, the leaves, the branches, and the berries of the trees growing in your backyard.
                                                       ­                                                                 ­                 We are all of these,
                                                                ­                                                             how long we were fool’d.

The planets, the galaxy, the stars, and the cosmic energy;
we are all of these.
We are the universe- the owners of rented space and borrowed time.
We are the spinning planets giving glory to the sun.
We are the galaxy sharing the same name as our favorite candy bar.
We are the stars that are wished upon by countless hopeless romantics.
We are the force, the colors, the radiance, and the chemical reactions of the cosmic energy your soul emits.
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                    We are all of these,
                                                                ­                                                                 ­  how long we were fool’d.


The rusty bridges, the flooded valleys, the polluted air, and the sketchy back alleys;
we are all of these.
We are eyesores – the blemishes surrounded by the unexplained beauty.
We are the bridges blistered by acid rain and pigeon waste.
We are the valleys, lost in wondrous mountains that are immersed in water.
We are the air filled with gaseous atoms that hide beneath cumulous clouds.
We are the homeless, the litter, the stray cats, and the flickering lights of the back alley in your glamorous city.
                                                                ­                                                                 ­          We are all of these,
                                                          ­                                                                    how long you were fool’d.

We have embodied the good, the bad, and the ugly.
We have embraced the magnificent, the imperfect, and all that is in between.

Adolf ****** may have been an evil *******...
In fact he was without a doubt.
I don’t need to remind us all but the things he said and did is kinda what this is about.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s imagined....
What if ****** and the Nazis won?
What would the world we live in today be like?
cos the powers that be have still got us under their thumb.
Some say some Jew called Rothschild has taken over,
But like a 4 leaf clover,
I’m not going to let that conspiracy get to me
cos I already worry too much about my own life
as stress can sometimes cut me open
and feels just like a blunt knife.

So getting to the point....

I have no issues with America and her people,
I’ve been to Montana, Washington, New York and even Seattle,
It IS a little too big for my liking,
But that’s not the point in this rant that I’m writing,
I do wanna cite though that for the record I loved Obama,
Despite the air strikes upon Syria he ordered he didn’t cause too much drama,
Maybe certain Americans just love starting wars,
Who knows? maybe cos of their ridiculous gun laws
Every country has their own patriotic flaws,
and eyesores in the dilated pupils of foreigners.
I tell you what though....
Satsumas...
I look at those differently these days,
I used to love the taste of them but now they just remind me of a certain pig headed face,
Calling him a disgrace is an understatement,
it seems like everything he does is just for his own entertainment,
I can understand why the red necks voted for him,
cos he knew what to say to get his puppets on a string,
and the thing is
is that this all feels like a Hollywood movie,
Rudely perverted, ****** and *****,
with no happy ending,
bending their laws
Of what is right and what is wrong
we’re either longing for another saviour or the end of the world,
at least for now

(C)

I just stepped outside and this is what I saw:
An armored truck brandishing controlled themes,
On a direct course head-on with a veiled rival,
Or so seen to be,
Malcolm X look-a-like strides with headgear,
Otherwise plugged in, turned up, and otherwise,
Shut down, turned away, failing to see on-coming traffic,
******* ******* clad and looking nervously around,
As the blaring eyesores turn hungrily around,
Nature is in quiet awe of the spectacle,
And the old madman squirms and twitches,
Taking long patient drags on his cigarette,
Knees swaying and with a look like he can't remember,
The last time he'd taken a ****.

I thought You up in the heavens
Heaven where you see it all
All of these eyesores
Our smooth world like the blade of a saw

Humans turned to beast with sharp claws
How about these cyber wars?
Shootings at the shopping malls?
Brutality with no remorse!

This world is in distress!
Hurricane, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions
Oh, Mother Nature has seen stress
Increasing population of the depressed

I asked Him who resides above
Can't You make us harmless as a dove
He said man has the power to make a choice
Forgive us all, pls hear my voice!

Take flight yellow Moon from west to east
Tint this sleepy town as you please
Turn ramshackle eyesores into haunted houses
Blight avenues into golden hallways
Rusted train tracks become shining silver trails
Dank , foggy horizons turn to mighty Windjammer sails* ...

L- let's round the table and rethink about Nigeria, when are we going to gain our freedoms totally? after the lawbreakers calling themselves law makers becomes a loser when the children of hunger show their agendas using foreteller as a barrier without a lawyer.

A- although our mouth is not as sharp as razor but we meant to be a commentator for you and your predecessors, about your administrator you being a procrastinator doesn't make us an accelerator for us to be an conquistadors.

U- under the administration of the oppressors they pressed our pressure so as to dismeasure  our treasure because they know we have no pleasures that's why they keep ignoring our eyesores .

T- to all we ,the children of masses may God shower his endless mercy  cos we know he is more merciful than wizzy and messi .

E- everyone is born to be great ,so stop competing with the mates you are not going for any race ,either in the way  or in the phase, unless you want to be an unfocused chase.

C- call yourself a name and let's see if it will  remain the same, whether you need to find a lane in the rain to  remained the main,for you are born to reign and same time  in the vain try to maintain the pain ,quit explaining the grains of the pains for your success is certain.

H- hello the oppressor how far about the pleasure? hope it will be last to be measure I think you don't forget your post can never be carry over and your life is reading like calorimeter , this life is like a chapter, nothing after your dismissal you being a miser or a cheerier ,you will soon be a divorcer.
The fragrance pen
     Wale,zee
      08137421416

Dear humans.
We’ve seen your twerking and “hoverboards”
We aren’t  impressed.
Dear humans
We’ve seen your people and their ideals.
Dear humans
Those same ideals that have gotten a “thing” as we will not insult the tiny humans that you call five year olds. The “thing” now runs your country.
Dear humans
We’ve seen your girl the one who would. In the correct term “meet me outside, what do you think about that.”
Dear humans
We’ve seen how you destroy your planet. (Now not some of you). And then complain about how getting things the natural way would leave eyesores like wind turbines. But we really do mean to ask you. What happens when your whole planet turns into one big eyesore.
Dear humans
We want to say
That we will never contact you.
We may leave you evidence the evidence that we exist.
But we NEVER want to CONTACT YOU.
Bye for now.
Dear humans.

Walls are similar to icebergs,

they are deceptive, having

the ability to camouflage as

chameleons in full daylight.


Many of them are constructed

borders, some are used for

sport such as hand ball alleys

squash or the likes of it.


People write on them, put

political posters on them

and as we all know echoes

never cease insulting them.


But walls are also like people

they are buttressed invisibly

they are reinforced to withstand

they are dams to retain opinions.


Everybody builds them but in

time they crumble, they become

superfluous surplus to requirements

eyesores, where evil ones go wailing.