Like in an elegance  
    
i
wake up
have my black coffee
through the window, i see
the pine green,
the Morninglories,
the jack fruit trees..the sky,


blue a lil black a lil purplish
i imagine a voice- feel the breeze
thoughts intact,
of an indistructable Being
I
find a reason for living..For
God knows by heart,
what the source is

My
just one desire
to be close
to the end of distance.

I am the black and white.
All the violence that exists.
The fight in you, or flight of them.

The heat that blood implied.

So never did I think my hate,
would fashion itself well.
Shake me with my soul to slip,
to loose let claret drip.

That kept within a box,
with transparent chains.
Fixed to glassy walls,
hitched with failing reins.

Is my own eye through wich I see
rebirth upon repass.

For this anger does ablige.
This tunnel of no light.
With not a chance i find thee love
As darkness does amass

For pity has not voice in me.
Quarrel or appall.
The child has now gone away,
So up and down i fall.


For If I choose want of greed
The better unto me.
And time much better spent
With all such reapings heed.

So is it then a soul undone?
Most do find it bent.

"my own will'', my choosing time!
With furies made to vent.


thoses yearning  hearts will never do.

They will often sink.

Slink away with time,
And dance to there own tune.

"So Would I then find thee well"?
After this our play.
Wish thee hell and hope again
We meet another day

so to then, you never find
a broken  warreng heart
Will  i find, ii put my hate
Black as coal and unforgiving,
Indistructable.

The thought of you,
The good with flaw,

The me who cannot stay.

Is not the man I wish to be,
And ever cast away.

When these days of ours given
mathematical geniuses astrological beasts'
likenesses - to predict a year's character,
which this moment is burdened with
upcoming supposed hardships

like oxen upon the growing fields
(though that animal has known nothing
but to tend its fruition of fertile soil)
we focus with worries interpreted to toil
upon dreading portents from paper place-mats

at East-Met-West dives, eatery-cafe-chinois-cheap
"Which animal falls on your birth year?"
Entertained for a few minutes' read
then emotions in currents associate
horned Two-Thousand-Nine with End Times

Leaving stuffed with after-taste of distractions
day-planner thoughts sifting preparation
and possible aftermath birthdays to come...?
Eyes half-minding the drive home
on interstates turn into a hybrid drone

blank face unflinching - a pondering on doom
wondering how soon?

When our days intersect and collide with each other
almost to the point of not noticing or fugued
Deja Vu - Hindsight blind
because we are engrossed in our daily grinds
disappointments, disillusioned in disbelief

where did that indistructable kid
with mischievous imagination go to sleep?
where did youth misplace its charmed slipper, flee?
Left it behind chasing after Midnight:
dragging and pulling pumpkin seeds with them, mice

hoping for another ballroom
dance with regal dream come-true,
a future prince choosing you - having endured
being good even in chimney soot
and life cat-naps at our desks

employment heavy on our weary flesh
fantasy consumed at lunch in an hour's time
forgetting and ignoring traffic
signs - bright stars or skylines,
eyes wide asleep in living, in sunshine

When our days become half awake
still wide asleep - our vision not quite seeing
how HD crisp beauty slows on dew
or love of life - in radio tunes imbue
days will fly like circus knives

on spinning victim sideshow act
knowing the truth is matter of fact
no better time to live than to feel your moment:
a drop of rain in your hand

Now
wake and be
where you stand...