Elusive moon beckons dark currents,
     sand's sparkling pageantry  
             drifts out midst frothing tide,
submerging lover's imprints 'neath
     the realm of alluring seascape illusions

I hope nobody trusts you again
like I did you

I pray you never hurt another person
like you did me

You carved into my soul
And have taken peices
They will never grow back

Dont ever say that you want to help
because you will just hurt again
you will destroy
and you will ******

This is the perfect story
for a broken heart

you made me feel good
and I just dont understand
how you killed me

I told you everything
and you continued to destroy what was left
and turned me into this

a grumpy
unwanted
suicidal being
Who you illusioned
believing all was good
while you tore me apart
and extracted my heart

I hope you never have somebody
like I thought I had in you

I hope you get what I got in you
because your time is due
you earned that

I hope nobody trusts you
because you will hurt them too

You will tell them what they need
and when its time for you to work
you will never be there

Give us that fake smile
the one that used to push the clouds away
but I know now
that the tornado is coming our way

you make things seem okay
seem liveable
just to gain your unholy power

Hurt is a childs dream
compared to this terror

I have lost all hope

you told me you will help
the only thing you helped
is to ****

Never talk to me again
I cannot bare your lies

They dart with illusioned purpose,
I alone, am distant and far.

They speak on trivial affairs,
I alone, speak not of the obvious.

They delude intelligence,
I alone, can say no more.

What it is I feel,
Never could be construed.

I can offer no consolation
for those tied and unwilling.

This blind expansion of
unnamable multiverse
weighs heavy, might I say.

Empowered Manager, your Rules beknown
I'd rather you Teach how we must Behave
Or, filter these Concepts to his Reknown
And coat this Script for his role as a Knave
So what's new? Long does this Method wear
For the Centred Market your Profits invest
Though, we Illusioned, squeeze each dareful tear
Close his Next-Door Gates for an Open Contest
To be Fair, dear Sir, if we can afford
To pay for that trite, unsubstantial fee
I suppose his Skill to waters accord
Reward by Harvest; A Hero as he.
So yes I'm aware for such tweets I send
Were not his eyes for your mouth he'll depend.

The sun
gold and radiant,
                                                The boy
                                shy and ambitious,

the warmth
that shone brightly,
grew weary as man took flight  


                                            the tower,
                             an illusioned prison,
    held onto the yearning soul tightly

the god
that loved mighty,
the echoing of the lover silenced

                                                  the lover
                                  a tragedy himself,
                calling out to the gold fiend,

the fiend
that mourned nightly,
the golden star shined not bright

                                              the tragedy
                                   lost beneath blue,
         mourning the fiend and himself

What is hoped trickling between
splintered crags of hard matter
as between slabs of sliced I
like water through the desert crust

the beginning-end fusioned whole?
it resplendent through the cracks?

What might be enough
for its time being
might be the first loosening
a knot’s dissolution  
beginning

unwrapping light and breath
deep underground  
after prying like suffocation
the thing loose, never budged,
still you yanked, pulled,
screamed, spumed, more than

frustration through your fingertips.
For the brain, don’t be fooled,
s’more the psychedelic fruit
than just saying apple computer

the pulpous embryo of imagination
feeding

what seed, sprouting tendrils,
protracts without desire
(but causing desire)
ever outward, growing, clasping,
(hinging on unhinging) meshing
an electric net
and collapsing a shock they say

until the taste of its taste
is so succulently pungent
that after hours of dull mumbling
its projection upon the mirrors

it bursts in puffs of screams
short tense contractions
[image fizzing, over-heating].

Like a cracked computer reading
an animal program: Alpha Beast
of the Ill-Illusioned. Or: Runt Wolf
of Gaia, the Undarwinian Survivor.
Software ones and zeros digitizing

the command:
Must do the act cannot be done.

Till it breaks. Unimagined.

Immense
her beauty that I ever wonder of.
In silence am drowned in illusions
only to the hope that I shall  see her in the shortest time possible
©†Bröñ™

If I ever get where I want to be,
I'd like to be forgotten,
To never be recognized;
To just exist without an existence...
So that I can feel alive where I stand
With every breath, sound, touch;
So that I can witness the world
In all it's entirety
Without standing behind a screen of an identity...
To taste the colors with my eyes
And appreciate the eternity of the world
Without a barrier of an illusioned existence--
*For I won't exist any more,
And all barriers would, therefore, have been forfeit..

Alas, is there truly no excuse for me?


(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXVIII)


Take icy cloth's embroidered linen's sense
Of April's warmth to task for darts, as hale
Pink butterflies weave paths to yonder's bail,
And what is stylish now is red, deep hence
With snappy blue in patterns I've tossed thence
Aside as "not my taste," and oh! t'avail
How Valentines' tricks out most ads' detail
With hearts in tow, where I've none in defense.
Remember how our heavy kissing's tour
Of things I'd never tasted, left me too
Far Dis-illusioned in betrayl, as poor
As all that, and I miss the violets dew
In silver droplets used to kiss as twere.
So flowrs are knit on linen while none woo.

01Feb18b

Don't cry,cry the poor Indians
Don't ask,ask anything,for
You will be certainly hand-cuffed, and
Then, put in jail,put in jail.
Planned by ill-will misled we are
Misruled,oh! friend patriotic.
Cricket is rickets on nation's body
Youth is illusioned to spoil India.
Let Lord Krishna dance again upon
Hoods of snakes polluting life source.
Not our vote for note-bundles
Vote for chosen future splendid.

A black man souled me my religion with his silhouetted blues and glit'ring worlds

Carved my faith with an old fashioned mic and tilted cap

I was a product of societies blue eyes and blonde hair

Trapped behind the funeral veil being poured into our rivers from the polluted pipes of reality

I watched God's eye as they scanned the deserted souls of our landscape

Wept floods of sorrow through our illusioned damns of hope

Leaving us alone to tend to the graveyard of our dreams

Questioning the mimicing raven, that can only give the answers we never wanted to hear. . .

But crying would be fruitless if we could see what's coming

Like fishing in the mutated waters of society

Shocking, but expected

Then again leaving the hook and closing the window would just make us irresponsible

So we slip into the sleeping game of time, sliding under the covers of trust

Hoping to find a shield from the boogie man in the sheets

Only to find that the boogie man rest here too

Puts good night kisses in the pillow cases to poison my dreams

And along with these realizations comes the drying of my faith in the old fashioned mic and tilted cap

Because the black man that souled me my religion forgot to mention that all that glitters, is not gold

swirling clouds of exhaustion wrapping themselves around my brain, colored ever so closely to those of funeral shrouds. i inhale fumes & hold them in my ribcage, hoping for cancers to form, praying for a physicality to the sickness in me, for a tumor i can point to: "there!" i would say, "this is where i hurt." but my cells only hold my bad memories as fibrous proteins. they clutch condescending looks & carry them in the illusioned hope they will motivate me forward: to prove them wrong, to rise above the insults, to use the weight they hold to propel myself further. instead, I sink beyond previously charted depths. my toes know the silt of a sandy bottom (rocks so broken apart they aren't even considered pebbles anymore; insignificant alone & incomparable heartaches uncounted or uncountable together). i anchor myself in this remorse, this hurt i can't point to. i yearn for selfish suicides & scoff at salvation.

some love starts fiery red
burn furiously
no end in sight
illusioned feeling of safety
the fire cannot ever burn out
but all fires die eventually
leaving scorched earth, surroundings devastated

some love start slow
patients lots and lots of patients needed
but over time the shrub starts to grow
soon when no one is watching
a gorgeous massive strong tree stand
tall green with endless potential
even if it dies of old age it will give life to whats left behind
the cycle of life continues

then there is the love god blessed you with
you cant choose, you always love them but not always get along
you don't always like each others, but always love
they say this crawls where water don't run

i choose the one that adds over time slowly
never subtracting just multiplying

Wind, weather, and gain
Closure, vision, pain
Blood, intrusion, rain

All of them

Collect to connect
for intersecting
that leads to dissecting
of those thought provoking situations
that wind up choking
their creations

And God! I can't stand it


    So let me expand
Let you understand

We have been gifted with elements
and our elemental understanding is that the basics are not good
not enough
not for us

Not when we have pried open vaults that are not our own -
to follow a nightmare
illusioned as a dream with wings

but we loosened the seams
and now we sing
of a broken thing; the noise
doesn't quite drown the screams

   And we're losing
On this planet

! And the broken, they were born
In view of world still torn, forlorn
They've met scorn
as intrusive bodies situate themselves in a momentum
that doesn't require their skills
And the monster roams free
as the people cry "help"
in this place of mine
because they see

The response is a little too late.
We let the quiet soothe
And don't have to choose
When the rain chains their fate
and washes away
the entire State




I've been told: "You're gifts and talents are enough"
But it's never enough
and tear drops will roll

I'm begging for love to brush this soul
and sometimes I wonder who's in control

*And I panic

When i first said yes, i had butterflies in my stomach,
i had streams flowing in my belly,my mind captured
with words to paint my love for you.
at first i did not know...yet from you i learnt.
you loved me to love, embraced me to embrace and smiled
at me so that i can smile back.
When i was only a bird trapped in my fears, u patted my feathers,
you placed me on the palm of your hands, encourged me to fly.
When i would smudge lipstick on my chin, you wiped it
not  as a spot but as just a deflection to my God given beauty.

i would then listen to you in my heart every second as if you were
pacing with my heart beat, i walked on streets with confidence
because i was sure of you by my side, as if you walked with me.
you would swear i was illusioned,who cared?.

i loved beyond my ability to love you. i loved till you were no more.
How then does a day become life, when everyday you appear
as one i once knew. All laughs i ever pulled,just echoes
of the time that was. You walk as if we never were,dreamt nightmares.

in agony i still love, from a distance i still love,
in your absence i love you more, in your presence
its out of control.
despite all you made me rise, how i wish i can soar with you once more.

Having the same old conversations but adding nothing new. You've had enough of me and I'm ******* done with you. We just fight and you cry and I feel like the bad guy- then we start again. I don't even remember when we were friends.

You get so off track and I try to pull you back. But then you act all sad, and it makes me feel bad. Settle down, why can't you just calm down? What can I do to make you come around? You're spiraling out of control. You're not making any sense, you know. If I'm more a hindrance than a help I'll have to let you go. On your own.

I'm gonna punch you in the face if you won't shut up. Dude, I've had enough. Yeah you know we've been having the same old conversations and adding nothing new. You're getting fed up with me and I'm so **** tired of you.

Say it again, I know you'll say it again. You'll tell me you love me, you think maybe this time it will mean something. But you're way off, you're so illusioned and scoff- when I tell you your empty declarations don't mean a thing- to me.

You're so extreme, you're just a male drama queen. You drink and drive to risk your life, then brush me off and tell me you're fine. You're a danger to yourself and everyone around you. I don't know how to react when you're in these moods. Shut up. Just let me think. I don't know if I can pull you back, when you're reaching for the brink. I can't stop you if you're determined to sink. There's only so much I can do, before I'll be forced to give up on you. I'm trying so **** hard to save you but you're making it impossible. I can't fix you on my own, you give me no help at all.

We are all forever trapped in a prison of our own making. Hands tied and ankles heavy, there lie circlets where the kiss of our patient executioner's lips have left the skin stained red. It matters little, the poisoned despairing prisoner; it matters not the perilous journey, the illusioned destination or the immeasurable wear. Each and everyone of us is weighed down or tied to something-- a being, a duty or a cause. These, the cells we can never truly escape.

It comes in many forms, our personal Jailguard. Some wear them in metal: iron, gold, or silver. Some choose to be restrained by more delicate materials like a string of pearls, a measure of satin ribbon. The hand that seals the lock and throws the key may sometimes be ours or unbeknownst to the sufferer but it does little to appease the reality of its damnable existence.

No matter the material, the wearer, the cause.. Chains, like God or smoke or most anything supernatural... Are only as real as the faith you invest in its power.

cinnamon tea in a chipped
thrift store mug
a minute ago
it was too hot
and now it's too cold

here and there
fast and then faster still
it all happened so quickly

i barely had the chance to blink
it all happened before i even
had the chance to stop and think

but the red light on 6th street
lasts a minute longer at midnight
and that's where i usually
come into my remembering

sometimes revelations hit you
less like a brick and more like a burn
it's a kind of hurt that stings longer
than the bruise of the initial blow

i guess you never know
when the last time
becomes the last

it happened so fast
you forgot all the times
you ached so ardently
you thought you'd become
symbiotic with the pain

but the idyllic recollections always linger
like scalding hot shower steam
hanging around a winter room
you illusioned elation because
it felt better than the truth

it was the last time
but somewhere deep down
you already knew
you held the feeling in your gut
begging for countered proof

you've unfolded the understanding
became transparent with the pattern
joy is punctuated by brevity
the very reason it tasted so sweet
on the tip of your tongue

time follows a template
of give and take
the longer you live
the more natural it becomes
to see your fair share of loss

and you know everything ends
you know the swift current of this
breathtaking experience in space
is the temporariness of existence

but why does everyone leave

a minute ago they were here, now
the sureness you cultivated is ripped to shreds
and thrown like confetti in the wind
and love is carried away
like it never held any weight at all

the wheel spins,
the last time
becomes the last
and yet again
you become just another piece
of someone else's past

i am disconnected from
my body, my life,
the shattered pieces
bearing my once loved
consciousness.
i exist on autopilot
after the sun goes down.
my bones ache with
lack of purpose,
desire, compassion
towards myself.
i’m lying when i say
i hate everyone i’ve been
and everything i shall be.
in truth, i am just a hollow
unfeeling mass that one day
illusioned flowers will spring from.

I stand eerie befuddled on the bathroom floor, tickled pink with the mites in my hair, quietly humming my national hymn, grasping for glory but its nowhere to be found.

"Are you okay, is there something I can fetch for you," the mirror asked.  

I reply with a murmur to the sky, wasted; incomplete. Feeling defeated with plumb eyes and thorny tongue; castrated to the rear. Naked but dressed in a silk red tie; thoughts of suicide embedded in my mind.  

I've cried wolf before, so why should they come and help me now? Take blame and ownership for the chaos, which has been caused, but the river is so deep to cross. The light bruising are very visible.

Marilyn Monroe was found dead naked on a bed with white sheets. "What do I wear in bed? Why, Chanel No. 5, of course," she was once quoted.

Butterfly's happily dance above the white baby grand piano. I tossed back a shot of Grand Marnier, while enjoying a Acid Blondie cigar.  I mask the pain, illusioned with a smile.

Misery has appeared once again to celebrate my birthday. I hastily and angrily gave it the finger. I wore a sign on my forehead which read: Keep the hell away you *******!

I don't speak in tongues because I am bored and filled with deceit. I roam around in my own head aimlessly, searching for the exit sign. I stand eerie befuddled on the bathroom floor; darkness crept up!

"Are you alright in there? I need to use the toilet," the urgent voice exclaimed.

I mastered the art of silence, using it as a blocking mechanism to shield myself from annoying persons or things. I just hate loud noises. I just hate to be disturbed. To be left alone to my own devices.

I lingered around for a moment and finally opened the door to the devil himself. "Vous regardez surpris!"

Where are you now, deceitful mighty lion?
Laying over your bed of thorny lies,
Letting the barbs poke and pierce you;
Deep inside your illusioned mind.

You roar as the day grows bigger in size,
I zigzag through swaying blades, freshly dewed.
Picking pointed thorns from the flesh on your side;
Just a weak, skittering mouse to your rescue.

Run and hide, before you eat me alive.
Run and hide, before you eat me alive.
I hope I die, so you can't eat me alive.

-SLuR

My Black Black Man
The Walls of your Mind
Beckon only a Unique kind
The Love of a full Woman
An illusioned witness to
the Truth behind You
and your fettered prime, can
Be more black, more diaspora than
thee. Educated with sight
Yet conflicted by societal rite
And a King in every Troubled Stage
Unable to Fight
Can or cannot Love right?
My Black black man.

Break away from the things
that change who you are

Pull the reigns
on your recklessness

Ride through your days
back upright and shoulders straight

Look ahead
squint and let your sight
pierce through your horizon
the vision of your illusioned future
that's as blurry
as your
eye sight

but how stupid of me to be
tricked and illusioned into
loving the person i see in pictures
but not in real life.

How can she expect to live
Her life on her own terms?
When even water moves
Only in a high to low direction?
These chains will always
Keep her bound.
Never let her fly away,
They'll always keep keep her locked to the ground.
Having a life of total liberty
Once used to be her dream
But it was as perpetual as
A house of cards it seems.
Now she's grown up enough
To face the reality that
This road is too rough.
It'll bruise her feet as she moves
But she can never get up from the ground
Not ever.
Even winds dont blow on their own
Their direction, decided by the sun.
In this brutally practical world
Used to live a silly girl.
Who was illusioned that all her great dreams
Would, one day, come true.
So she dreamt on and on
Not realizing that all the hopes she had
Were nothing except wrong.
The world's full of paradoxes,  they say
But she wasn't aware that
Life could really turn out to be this way.
She has to survive and also die
According to someone else.
The poor bird has been given wings
But not the permission to fly.
She'll die one day, suffocated
But shall learn to be happy and content
And wont even complain about how
She was never given a chance,
Ever, to prove herself.
One day, she'll fly away with a smile upon on her lips
To live her dreams in heaven.
----x----

The green eucalyptus were in array
as I walked at the edge of the earth
consumed in the midst of the unknown
or was it just a figurative forced mist
illusioned on pictures in depths of mine
whilst the sun rays shone light
through these windows into my withins
and my eyelids were steady in the middle
at the centre where all the spirits awashed
and life vanished like an uncertain rainbow


Yet I was so young at heart, unable to see
and looking back, I can’t seem to understand
or even hold tight to that mystery angel
the one that brought me to the city of the sun
in another time, after another rapture
where psalms whispered of an eternity
and sonnets were effervescence and marginalised
and the questions were sought and internalised
and happiness became the solid I consumed
at the heart of paradise where it all fades

Come yee symphonies arise to the skies
above the sun each holding to the other
Let me just follow merry and nourished
hoping to be tangled in the lost rhythms of the sun

Toxic is our love, all tangled and torn
Poisonous are the words heard by these ears
Like a prisoner of war, all shaven & shorn
We are left to give voice to our fears

Toxic to the touch, laced with vindictive venom
Hands once caring, gentle are now groping claws
Tearing asunder, clawing through to the very marrow
Words uttered through once soft lips, now vicious maws

Toxic chasms of doubt, churning with betrayal continuously
Boiling, bubbling over with acidic intention to indenture
To move this past the once well intended intentions
Now exodus to darker lands, black, no place to venture

Toxic infusions of gaseous invisibility, rendering us inadequate
To the once, simple, easy flowing process of unconditional love
This to, now comes with ifs & maybes, a sad, lonely banquet
Of light never moving, where the dancers are left inky black

Toxic is the stench of this of this once fragrant existence
For controlled by lust for power, to be the ultimate one
To rule over all you deem to have acquired through pestilence
Lies, pain, twisted fates, destroyed dreams now in state of oblivion.

Toxic is your touch,
For you ask to much
You have taken everything there is, controlled it
Moulded it, to your perfect ideal of illusioned existence