Spilled directly from my heart and soul
To you
From some year
In the past
Something
I just need you to know

I'm but twenty years of age
And I know nothing
Of the world
And nothing
Of living
Except
What I do know
Which is close to
I admit

Nothing

When compared
To great lives
Lived many times
Longer
Stronger
Greater
Larger
And even
Shorter
Weaker
Lesser
Smaller
But I am
Who I am
And, again
I've only lived
A fraction
Of what is considered
A
"Life"

But lately
I have an urge
Not really and urge
More of a
Want
But a strong
Want
And that
Want
Is
I want to raise a child

Strange
Yes
In times past
I'd be considered
A man
I'd be expected
To have a job
That paid well
And
The built-in
Instinct
To fight for
My life
And the lives
Of those I cherish
Deeply
But
On the inside
I know
I'm but a boy

I am not a man
By any stretch of the imagination
I am not a man
By any means at all
But
Out of nowhere
Over the past
Year
This sensation
Has been getting stronger
To have a child
And raise it
With someone
I love
A burning love
A simultaneously
Firy, cool, encapsulating, enrapturing, hexing, invincible, forever
Kind of love
And to raise it
With their best interests
For the future
And to impant
In them
All the love
In my heart
And have them know
That
As long as I'm around
Everything
Everything
Will be alright
Everything
Will work out
The way it's meant to

Because it's true
And I know it
It's just one of the things
These twenty years
Has taught this boy
However
I wish to give
This child
Everything
And
All
And
In order to do so
I have to establish
What I need to
Find an adequate
Source of monetary income
And
As hard as that seems
In this day and age
I will
Somehow
I will find a way
If only
For the life
Of my future
Child

I shaved away the edges until there was nothing left, but a dream of what could have been, and so with frustration i accepted the jagged.

A common law of common flaws, as my face morphs into mask.

I still wonder, when it all will collide, building up inside ...
So much.
Too much.
Electrified in the the allure of my ruthless retorts, as i struggle in futile resistance to the inevitable.

The feeling is incredible, when you let all just go.
As it gently flows from the empathy into ecstasy, learning to love thy enemy, even as they are metaphorically stabbing me in the back.

Euphorically to react to the sensations in my lap when shes next to me.
Hexing me in a shellacking smack to my mannerisms
Her summer dress to address my cynicism, as it flows back from whence it came.

Detained in her image.
Restrained, in questioned worth.
Worth a thousand words.
Words never heard but seen in synesthesia.
Synesthesia saving my amnesia from forgotten verbs that be-heave us, in forgetful stumbling of the loving mumblings before the kiss.

The kiss dismissing the winded blue lips from the fumbled wits of love.
Love drown the fires ablaze as it spirals away.
Away from the journey.
Journey of the uninterrupted.
Uninterrupted in the hunting of my comforts.
Comfort in the squiggled lines.
Lines that pack a little comfort.
Comfort in the blinds, as i sacrifice my obedience for a little bit of expedience on the smile that awaits, this toothless face.

Bludgeoned stupid, as i pace at half mass, blinded in the tall grass of empty lands amassed in colors unseen with tunneled eyes that refuse to defy gravity.
Gravity in your roads chosen.
Chosen in the glow of abodes ablaze.

Amazed in starlit eyes.
Eyes to dream.
Dream of better ways.
Ways to clean the bad away.
Away with my wayward words.
Words observed in zero.
Zeros the point in which i met her, blinded in the blur, as im pulled to her.

Confined to the minds barrels,
trapped inside four white, wooden walls
that wash me with light;
creating eternity. An eternity
where your face is forced forth
with splintered teeth, wood grain whispers.
Air evades my lungs
breathing in, panic, locked
away. To stay and rot. My tongue
may become a meal; I don’t need words in here.
This chambers grand design
is an endless emptiness.
My mind’s faced with this shameless
white graceless space which
aggravates my dark creativity.
This great sin in me is great and willing me
to spill the hate hidden deep.
The rays rebound perpetually. The silence
perplexes me. Perplexes me. The silence
confined to the double barrels.
Your face, perpetually, stretching its imprint
across these walls. Blurring, screaming terror.
Eyes open, burning, comfort in the darkness
learning the eyelids inner charms.
Not the vastness. Eyes open. Terror.
Tear away these fantasies;
isolations imagination identifies with my demons.


The blank space is filled with cacophonies,
agony, smiles in the emptiness stretch beyond capacity. Silence.
Whispers, these wood grain whispers splinter my eardrums.
No matter how I try to pick (axe) them out,
this imaginary pencil doesn’t dig deep enough.
I hear no calligraphy. No beauty
finds me in here, this box of light
holds my plight and creates a world where I know no night.
I hold no right, I cannot wrong,
there’s nothing left, I hold no rite,
there’s no day to escape for sleep,
no knight to bring me dreams, no left to take me to the right place,
I am so bereft of time. Am I dead?
Dying? Lying here in wait, lying  to myself,
declining in health. Declining life.
The silence is hexing,
dissecting each piece of what’s left of me.
The canvas screams, it wants to know my nightmares,
to feel their bloodied paint on its flesh.
I’m the worm in the water.

here's a neat trick:

evry time you have to say my name

replace it with RADIOHEAD

"RADIOHEAD has been staring at rooftops again. i'm worried."

"RADIOHEAD just walked into my kitchen and took all my matches!"

"i'd like my hexing stone back now, RADIOHEAD."

"RADIOHEAD, have you been drinking?"

anyway

you should try it

i'm not quite sure what will happen

but it's gonna rain no matter what you do

as a matter of fact
the last time you struck me
right across the chest
i vowed it would be the last abuse
you'd inflict on the living
so you spent your time
hexing the tombstones down the street
because you must have you talons
submerged in the flesh of something
living or dead.

Golden sands, oh take me
Forest green moon, don't forsake me
Glass blue sea, underneath me
Ash, stone, and blaze now surrounds me

Destined lands that were taken
Stories we made gone and shaken
Oh my lovely drifting memories
Couldn't protect them, so I must set them free

Desperate plans
To make them
Soon chilled by the sight of lights dim
Trials and
Tribulations
Send me softly to vacation

From your hands, you may save me
Come, please, be soon, will I soon be free
There are stories and revelations
Calling curses hexing desperations

Sing while I can
This will all soon cease
Lost
and choked
Forgetting how to breathe
Sing me to sleep, but softly, please
I've lost my land
And now my mourning...
.
.
.
.
.

Speakers load destruction, hexing the seem teathering tens of thousands of telepathic men and women who dont know that thoughts we read like books mine one like gold.
Rectify strife stricken knife swiftly puncturing wounds subdue the day that restrains truth with proof aloof becoming gaint higher passing altitudes.
Smoking clouds.
Smoking ******* clouds with the piper.
Spittin truths.
With young mother ******* piper.
Blast, an Aeon shell hit pierced dashing dearest.

and today he said I was his soulmate
so I told him everything I hid
I told him about the hexing,
the loving, the rituals, and the nails,
the gris-gris and the oil,
and the way I collected some of his hair

I thought he would be disturbed
I thought he would be creeped out
but instead he gave me an ear to ear smile
and I'm not sure if that's concerning or not

But I do know we're in love
and I do know he's mine and I'm his

Manifesting is a source of thought and needs that are wanted by the person who will succeed in the result of the demand. With ears listening and reporting to the devil, growing each and every time you want something to become true. Manifest it in your mind, and it will become true. Only it comes with a price of loosing your free ride, to wherever your white destination once was. Manifesting stains the white with each drop of blood you have lost. Feeding the manifestation into more than a thought in your mind, because its the only thing your forced to listen to. No matter what you try to do, once you manifest something the devil will consume every last drop of your white and burn the words into ashed smearing them onto the white walls in your mind. Resulting in the loss of your soul because someone wanted you to fall. So instead of fighting for your future, the only thing left to do was write about your past while the voices stop and whisper. Because that's what they are born to do, demanded by their master to keep you from praying for forgiveness and turning around. They follow you around with every single memory of the past, and using them till you pass the torch of remorse. Feeling nothing after the date, that was manifested for your fate. ******* everything out of you is what manifesting will do. Starring off into the unknown will cause your troubles to be known, by everybody who listens just wants the attention. Deja Vu means experiencing the same memory in the exact same way while being in the right place at the right time, but if its the right place and the right time then why can't we remember the first time. If it's right and right then what is left and left? Left time and left place. Opposite of Deja Vu is remembering the wrong place and the wrong time. If we remember the past so well, then why can't we remember the familiar so well? Manifest for unlimited and it will never seem to end, and only grow and grow and grow until the limbs can not point in the direction of the Eastern sun and grow to the direction on the sound of the silent manifestations. Pointing their limbs with cruel intentions of hexing the called upon with green live twigs turning the oxygen into carbon monoxide to thin, green turns into brown dying with a frown. Once smiling at the leaves, the manifestor kills the bee.

While yours truly sat here
at the desk housing MacBook Pro,
pondering his next idée fixe apropos
for gamut of anonymous readers,
he unexpectedly, noisily and effectually
exploded out rear end;
perhaps ye heard or felt
the ground beneath your feet tremble;
the missus didst not stir in her sleep
yesterday (May 29th, 2023)
when my troubles
seemed so far away.

Jog me memory I did
with a little help figuratively
nabbed, pilfering, ransacking, et cetera
compilation of previously written poems
which involved scrolling thru
screen after screen of feeble attempts
to craft some stellar literary creation.

Worm I going with this line?

Just by a fluke,
I came across a scenario
where humorous embellishment
will (clear as water) diminish credence,
but slight fabrication will help revival
encompassing an outing with then girlfriend,
who eventually became the missus.

Upon the first date (mucho decades ago)
not quite two score
and three and a half years ago
with the gal, whose troth
aye did pledge allegiance to wed
(anniversary inching itsy bitsy
spider like up to
seven and twenty earth orbitz),
we agreed to dine
at an avante garde Tex-Mex eatery

in North Wales, Pennsylvania,
where angels feared to tread
carefully scrutinizing bon appétit
the menu selection,
a touch of Latin lick QED
all American version sans
south of the border cuisine –
Quod Erat Demonstrandum –
translations spit out
in rapid fire Hispanic

by a beady eyed
pierced and inked kid named Ned,
whose couture favored a punkish style
with spiky gelled green hair,
piercings galore and necklace
with a genetically modified
sizable entombed glassy pricey jewelry
encased insect in amber lead,
which beastly fully intact organism
with a miniature grizzly bear like head
momentarily hypnotizing me

pray tell, yours truly nudged himself
out of trance sans this egghead
who made a selection
by randomly landing finger
on an item feigning to be well bred
unbeknownst choice promised
concussive radioactive fallout
squelched with utmost difficulty
nearly impossible mission
to avoid loosing buttuck blast

if belched out the posterior;
**** would have catapulted,
delivered fatalistic deafening roar
wreaking havoc to life and limb
costing countless lives
regarding innocent restaurant patrons,
whose arbitrary choice
to partake of their repast
at aforementioned *****
unnamed restaurant analogous
ending with tragicomic farce.

After this Señor ingested
an ample number of mouthfuls
of beans and rice
that quelled most severe hunger pangs
mine lower gastrointestinal tract,
felt a bubbling and gurgling sensation
played through impropriety struggled
with gaseous mounting perturbations,
what promised to be hot malodorous,
would induce an air raid

from this “wind bag,”
(whose puckered, preserved, pickled, et cetera
and stinky namesake
occupies a place
at the Mutter Museum,
whose saving grace erroneously divine),
when wallet of suede discover herd
visa vis tubby devoid of cash,
thus convenient excuse to beat
the tirade of volcanic eruption
on the cusp of belching forth
found me bolting out the restaurant door
fortunately not waylaid

and madly dashing
(like some fiery comet dancer)
performing a cheeky number
hopping on one foot than the other –
since forceful blast triggered kidneys
to be tapped, thus prancer two step
extemporaneously incorporated
while awaiting available ATM
only to espy debit printout slip
inadequate funds available
zero balance in checking account.

While expulsion of noxious fumes
from thine sphincter courtesy  
brought relief as aye nonchalantly
prior to strolling inside cozy diner,
and slipped into me seat disinclined
to relate eave vents to future spouse,
the ****** aeration and stream of *****
(freed to water secluded copse)
from me magic flute which,
amazingly synchronized
with the Maximus glute
after consuming food
triggered ***** to toot.

Nevertheless, shortfall of legal tender
unfortunately and subsequently found
yours truly shackled,
impressed, forced, et cetera
as dishwashing galley slave
dashed mine coveted
bowed need for highstrung Cupid
annihilating, detonating,
hexing, et cetera
opportunistic spell
to don and trumpet myself
as artful dashing romancer.

A whisp that shifts our relm again
These mornings soft with spring
The air holds you warm and cool
A gentle fever
Binding us with potential
Fresh comfort, new beginnings feel potent I turn to pity my winter shell
Blinding me with anticipation
In each step in each breath
You can smell the change
Feel the shift
Just a taste, hexing the senses
I wouldn't exchange this day for anything
Not when I feel alive again

Strange to enjoy the ache of feet underneath me
On top of the world
I wish I had the words
All I have is gratitude
For a forgotten feeling
🌱