Never have I wanted to kiss a boy so desperately
since the last time we saw each other

That was  almost thirty years ago;
and as I'm approaching fifty four
with a family of my own; two beautiful
girls with bristles of fine gold, eyes so
arctic you can catch a cold,--

I realized not much has changed
since I've become an antique
always on the go.

Your lips were puckered up;
reminders of the silver linings in my
life.

Your body trembled beneath mine,
both my hands at your throat like the gnashing
of wolf fangs.

We never got past our soiled clothes,
never stepped beyond our comfortable homes,
never straightened out those fine folds...

I often look back on those days
as a long and hard lesson. You just
don't choose who you'd like to share your body
with; it could be your best mate, his physical features
reminiscent of a porcelain doll; so pale.
So sick.

I took care of you the only way I knew how.

By filling your head with lies.

I was taught by my mother
on a quiet day in November.

I was cleaning the dishes,
and I dropped the
precious china her Godfather
had bequeathed her.

And in the gentlest voice she could muster;
she whispered

It's okay, my dear, we can get another...

And from then on
she threw me into the wilderness
with not one word uttered;

but by her one and only departure.

With distance
the distaste only grew ,
with time and foreign lands my tree of wisdom only grew
from the confines of meditational winter sprung forth with the seasons change a fresh spring
that led to summers bloom and now with autumns orange face upon us i find myself back where i began ,

where i ran , it seems i was running back
where i thought i had no map , there was something pulling me to a home of sorts
more than one , too many to name , in people who live and in places that breathe
where i roamed , where i broke down walls triumphantly pulling the bricks and letting the river flow through the once more
no more ****** damns to hold back the floodwaters

i had an inkling i was running off borrowed time
or at least credit
death on credit
death in reverse
birthed rebirth
again and again

yet here i am still in deaths ruptured flow -
the unconditional love ran out mother ,
it ran out and you used it up
you used it so , i know you needed it
so from my child’s heart uninteruppted i let that one go
i held it aloft so you would know that no matter what you do , you are loves loved love

you are loves , loved love
but , it all came crashing down around my ears and around my throat a noose with no name
but a holy ghost escaped my lips in angry overtones = this argument for arguments sake
and tears hot on my cheeks filling up my mouth with anti-septic salt water drops
that doused my locks and you said “come back to me when you can speak without crying”

tears are but distilled wisdom and i am your teacher
i am your child - for a reason , i learnt much from you but how much more can you learn from me..
for i am not you - but a part - apart
and the smoke fills my eyes blurring the lines between reality

but i had enough , respect is intended - always
but i have respect in myself and that’s what you taught me.

That’s why i smile at people on the bus and talk to strangers ; because
everyone is reaching their own goals, shining their own light and love is shared , mother , love is shared.
and i try to love
but love seems to be distant
i love

four men

one - island man
two - island man
three- island man
four - out way somewhere i don’t know , never have graced , hope to grace and maybe touch his face ,

is this wrong? is this why i sit up at night with restless dreams
because whenever i see any one of them my heart turns to shreds
and i recall what that love is one more time
one more time
on more time

one - touches and lunch
two - dinner without touches, yet.
three - cheesy beans and laughter lines
four - astral planes baby ,

it’s raining again .
i’m siting under a tree in holloway
next to a knoll with hot chocolate , passport photos and cigarettes

are they not all one and the same
whom would i devote my entirety to , would you take it?
would you take it?
could you take it?

where do we stop?
why not stop..why stop. stop. what? stop loves riptide ?
not likely , not by chance , but by simplistic design
no i will not go
i will stay

please, please.. please.

i want to dance , with you who are you?
an enigma of epic proportions

i read somewhere that if a poet falls in love with you then you will never be forgotten
forever imortalized in their sonnets
and yes , it is true

lover why so shy? why so elusive , who is your soul
won’t you quietly tell me of the bruises won’t you tell me your secrets
and let me smooth down your shorn hair

two.

this world was made to share
and so is my love
so it is my love ,

we are wounded healers
and my , have i never heard anything as poetic as that.

but i cannot stay lone with all this love as it burst forth because it is mine. mother .
it is mine.

so.

dinner.

When you set out to make
an omelette, you have to break
an egg.  Now what
do you have?

A broken egg.

Unless you planned ahead
and caught it in a frying
pan.  There are other factors
at play as well.

Plans go awry.  Ask
Murphy.  It's the law.

Lawyers can't be trusted.
That's why they band
together, taking sides
like shirts and skins
in a pick-up game.
i don't like basketball.

Trust is tricky.  You
can always trust a liar.  
They always lie.  It
is what they do.  
They are junkies for
their own stories.

Stories are for humans.  
That's why dogs are
man's best friend.  Dogs
can't talk.

Humans think they are special
because they can talk, unlike
dogs.  We talk about thinking,
doing less so we can
talk about it more on
television.

Nancy Grace is running
reruns of the Natalie
Holloway case.  This is good,
it means all is right
with the world.  No other
girls have disappeared or
are presumed dead.  If
they are dead somewhere, they
live in our memories.

It isn't a circle of life,
it is a sphere of existence.  
Everything is specks of dust
floating inside a water
balloon.

And now i'm in your head.  
We are humans, and
the rent is low.

good bad girl. fight like a boy. tsunami driftwood. raincloud no silver lining, where lightning strikestwice. bare feet hot cement. kidnapped girl in the polaroid. let me check my schedule. curiosity...cat. eggshells. prescription candy. thru the looking glass. holden red hunting cap. tyler/jack. why ophelia never learned to swim. hold my scissorhands. Drucilla. natural disaster. scartissue love tattoo addiction pain dissociation association. carrie bradshaw's evil twin. holly-go-lightly meets courtney love. wednesday adams grows up. marla singer's song. bad dreamer. caufield's *******, cobain sympatico. makes sid viscious look tame, e. edward grey esq.& miss. holloway synthesis. the white rabbit. igby. anti-heroine, captain jack's sparrow. temptation/seduction/truth cliffhanger. ticking sleep bomb, roman candle(lit). spilled milk guilt. poppy field dreamer. cafeconleche. waternymph/siren/pixie, hideandseeker. riotgrrlchild. fallen angel-demons beware. blindfoldedandbound,if swallowed contact doctor immediately. good veins. contagious, mixedbreed badmanners. moodswinger. shadowboxer. wrong side of the tracks. superlowrisepunkass. theonemamawarnedyouabout, chaoscalamity&charisma;, irresiatible&incorrigible;, neverlearnedmy lesson. kneehighs and runners thighs. handlewithcare. klepto-crinalin and hypno-medicine, tomboy/schoolgirl. skeptickeyebrow. *****-flirty. cherrybombpocketpacker, hardcandy. sociopathsister. victim of my own past. hunter/hunted. bootstrap-trapped. is that my blood? just a minute while i reinvent myself.

i’d like to meet:  
everyone i have forgotten and everyone who has forgotten me

by Walter V. Holloway**

When the trembling East is beginning to blush

With the rosy red of morn,

And the World holds her breath in a solemn hush

As another day is born.

I am startled from sleep's illusive dreams

By the factory whistle's imperious screams,

Which seem but an echo of yesterday --

So soon has the short night passed away.



A child was I in my beautiful dream,

In my old home far away,

Where I strayed on the banks of a laughing stream,

Through the slumb'rous summer day,

And gathered the flowers that blossomed there,

With never a thought of work or care.

While the birds above in the murmuring trees

Poured their joyous songs on the perfumed breeze.



Why is it, I ask, that the birds are free

To flit over vale and hill,

While I a life-long slave must be

In a noisy, squalid mill?

Does God love the birds, and hate me so

That He fills my life with work and woe?

Or can it be that there is no God,

Save the factory master's cruel rod?



But God, or no God, I must be in my place,

When the heartless wheels begin

To turn the machine in its tireless race,

More wealth for its lord to win.

From my hurrying hands, with a fiendish roar,

It snatches its food and shouts for more --

"More food, more food, for my sateless maw;

More gold, more gold, is my master's law."



No matter how weary my arms may grow,

No matter how numb with pain,

If I slacken my pace the machine seems to know,

And shrieks in its wrath again:

"More food, more food, for my sateless maw;

More gold, more gold, is any master's law."

Till the soul of the ghoulish machine, to me,

Seems to laugh at my helpless misery.



All day the demon laughs and leers.

Till my heart grows sick with fright;

And ever the taunt rings in my ears --

"I will have your soul to-night;

For my Soul and the master's soul are one,

And I'll come for your soul when the day is done.

More food, more food, for my sateless maw;

More gold, more gold, is my master's law."

bloodless now from lack of sleep
listen to my ears ring,
my heart beat.

count them again
against the clock
54 per minute span
solid now but soon
she'll stop

on stopping day I'll be laid down
there'll be no measure
of compromise
empty throne and
hollow crown
hollow headed
sacrifice

hollow is an empty
place
full of hope
for hoping's sake
forsake what's real
for a better take
better take you on home
better
if I stayed gone

How?
It got started in surrounded by truth and myth.
But true lies in that Berry Gordy III started it.

William "Smokey" Robinson was the voice of hits from 1960 to around 1967 for others along with his fellow Miracles.

Mary Wells, Temptations, Brenda Holloway and more.

The changing of the composing guards of songwriters shined.

Holland-Dozier-Holland became the starts of the show of writing.
From 1964 until 1968 before departing.

Four Tops and Supremes hits reign on the charts making both acts major stars.

Sure hosts of others contributed Ashford/Simpson-Richard Morris-Sylvia Moy-Paul Riser-and Stevie Wonder.

Then raging roaring from the storm took over in the hands of Norman Whitfield/Barrett Strong from 1966 to 1974

But in between, we had Johnny Bristol-William Stevenson creating hits.