2 better days
of better ways
too bigger dreams
in better words
to the express
of my renditions
in wish-less missions
to infringe in fantasy
as i write out the years
of fearless tears
and scream
in happiness
and chant
of the blasphemers
laugh
in the murmurs
of drunken
entrepreneurs
admiring
sewer structures
plucking
the sutures
of my missed maneuvers
clueless
in my bruise-less
cutsss
toofwisss
and still strutting my luck
in abrupt
catastrophes
compliant
to the clause
of impunity
to rhyme-less scrutiny
to sooth the dream
for today
bolstering
the blame
of melancholy messiahs
playing pariah
on xbox
they gonna fry ya
through savvy ****** talk
with their mouth on your ****
but their ears on the block
to fulfill the onslaught
of a distraught
goofball
in lock
about to drop
calm
in happy bombs
of debilitating
shock
you cannot
talk
when you are
smiling
you cannot galk
when you are
smiling
violently
happy
with ******
knives
fixed to enrich
the lives
of the many
i have plenty
in the trunk
just bend down
and look
ill blend in the boom
of bass
thump
ding
the second thump
closes the trunk
strap up
with me
be blunt
don't want
a ninja on the run
in the sun
of reputation
1 finger away
from
nation-less
the mostest patientest
lyrifi$t
a bu3ro$hit
to 0bl1terat3
the glUt3nou$
of thy most muTtonest
of ch0ps
i cropp3d
the plopp1ng rainb0ws
of raindrop$
and Stopped  .
thE hoPped up ho0ligaNnry
of my N1njary
in my socks
sometimes i rock
but mostly not
i wont stop
until outlined
in chalk
until the froth
from my lips
blinds me
in trips
crossed
with a 5th
into thine own
obscurity
from the groan
of maturity
and the **** flapping
of insecurity
i try lyrically
to be free
and stop rhyming
at least stop whining
just trying
to do my thing
dost thou heart not sing
when im plowed
within the silver lining
devout
with a little shining
came hither
to where the sliding turned to slithering
delivering
my ministry
of infantry
infamously
into comedy
applauding me
in my idiocy
its daunting
in simplicity
marinade me
in a massacre
or a major disaster
watch me blow my ***
in haughty claims
of clogged
alpha/beta waves
enslaved
to a pre paid card
and charged
for helping a man up
in a corrupt
city of butts
entrusting
my paychecks to the *****
of never was
im riding the short bus
until she blushed
and brushed
the *** from her mouth
im gross
a little weirder than most
i boast
in defeat
i facebook
over tweet
as if there be a choice
as i crumple
the invoice
and rejoice
in knowing
i know nothing
i'm [Esc@ping]

It's like a jungle sometimes it make me wonder 
It's like a Forrest sometimes it help me flourish 
It's like a desert sometimes I find myself exerted 
I don't know how to word it, so I gather up a excerpt 
My momma always used to blurt it but since I always heard it , Things didn't make sense until it hurted 
Unjust situations did a service , I can't remember the last time when I was nervous
I tried my hardest not to become heartless 
In poverty stricken and drug infested apartments 
They raised us in the slums 
So we raisins in the sun 
Get to the league then our fathers come and try to bake us when we're done 
Already came from out the oven 
Already clubbing and already loving
Been making mistakes 
Got seasoned without his marinade
He never made us a plate 
Forced to be a renegade 
He never made us feel safe 
We're out running from everything 
Then don't know what to do when we make it on base 
Flour for the chicken
Flowers in the vase 
Gun powder in the smith &
Baking soda for the base 
I can't stand the rain coming through my window and we never had drapes 
Slim fast was our ******* so fiends never got in shape
Rent was only $50
So we never had space 
Halloween we had the mask but we Couldn't afford the cape 
So it was only fly if you sold super weight 
God's gate or cell 5 gate
Was our only escape
No DNA 
But we had to share a sub sandwich 
Waterfall a club soda
That's why we relate 
Dozens of "cousins" 
Saw each other everyday so that's why we debate 
It's like a ocean sometimes it makes me hopeless 
Marco Polo never get played, it's real
We dying by waves of violence 
It's like a battle field sometimes it keeps us crying 
Retaliation celebration 
10 years of frequent, but temporary triumph 
It's like a jungle that's why today I'm humbled 
Try to stay away from trouble 
Lost a lot of brothers, so the ones thats left I muffle 
It's like a jungle with tigers, apes, and snakes 
We pray everyday not to become prey 
It's like a jungle 
Only enlightened by thunder 
The trees help us breathe 
The trees bring a breeze 
But the trees is like a tease 
Disable us to follow our dreams 
We can't see the nearest sea 
So we just hunch by the tree stomp 
It's like a jungle 
At times it keep me thinking how do I keep from sinking 
It's like a jungle sometimes it makes us a believer that we gotta have fever just to meet our diva 
It's like a jungle sometimes it make me crumble because the crumbs feed the hunger 
It's like a agglomerate sometimes I forget when the last time I ate 
It's like a collage eventually I can't picture if I have a future 
It's like a jungle where
Lumberjacks never stumble 
Allow our dense vegetation 
To cloud our inspirations 
We come from jungles 
Get older and just want a happy huddle 
And a warm cuddle 
And finances to bundle 
When we make it through our rubble 
From a jungle 
We wonder 
That's all we can do is wander 
That's all we can do is juggle
That's all we can do; is hustle?

Love... Quite edible one could imagine.
Some may be famished beyond imaginary boundaries due to his or her own taste.
From sweet kisses, to bitter love, to varieties of flavor that spices up our lives.

We drink lover's spit if we care enough at the moment we see them, the edible ones because,
quite frankly the taste is so grand...

Only through time will we be seasoned to find perfection,
Until then it lingers, as our taste buds crave for more.
Something so tasteful that...
a man would swallow his pride,
a woman would eat her doubts,
a new born will sip it's nourishments,
a free food that no one could ever get full from...

Yet if prepared in the wrong conditions,
love could spoil and poison you, harm you,
destroy you...
So make the best out of the ingredients that you have,
To make it a grand feast that lasts,
before it all expires and goes to waste....

Let this marinade... Before it becomes your food for thought.
Let your cravings state that you are what you eat... lovely soul food.

I am a gingerbread
   sweet tangy ******* head
addicted to making
   marmalade sunsets
playing funeral organs
    cooking grass
on my BBQ
     I stir with
olde english
     marinade with you
on a bed of roses
     on our hill
growing wild sassy
          cooking stews
of parsnips wild onions
     marmalade you and
the morning dew.

There is perfection in the perfectly sauteed shrimp,
pink and plump and juicy.
Marinade clinging to the gentle curve of its back...
specks of lime zest and tarragon...
slide slowly down the sides,
a hint of tequila,
of honey
curls their way from pan...
to proboscis
and I smile.
Then...
gently with tongs...
turn them over....
...
...

i marinade my fingers,
banana pepper juice, hot wing sauce, sriracha,
i beg you to come close enough so that
i can burn every inch of your lukewarm skin

i'm not looking for revenge
i just want you to know what it feels like
to be set on fire and live to talk about it
when the sun blazes tomorrow

i drank enough whiskey for ten men last friday
and followed familiar footfalls,
i held myself up on barstools and good friends
and watched the door, waiting,
confusing look alikes through blurred vision

when you finally sauntered in
i saw it in slow motion,
i felt absolutely nothing
except hammered and free

Ingredients:

suitcases
photo albums
quick wit
a  new space that is comfortable to breathe in, raise other beings in, and nurture pets and your spirit in.
Sprinklings of humor to shake on it all when it gets to be too much. Mason jars of self-appreciation and worth to open in an emergency, if these qualities are forgotten and old patterns resurrected.

Preparation:

First, sit quietly with yourself.
Breathe deeply, as many times as you need.
Fill as many soul cups as you can with confidence,
and pour them on yourself, until they sink into the
soapstone of your pores.

If needed, tip back your head and open your mouth,
in order to have a more direct inflow.
After that, take just as many cups of calm
and pour them in, slowly and with generosity.
It is okay if you overflow; you may need extra serenity
later, when you are in the midst of action.

Let the two ingredients mix, slowly, until colors as yet unnamed
are formed in your solar plexus, spilling
throughout the entirety
of your body.

Take a break and blow bubbles, for lightness.
Yes, you may laugh like a loon.

Marinade:*

After the laughter has subsided, take a big dose of self- love and rub it all over yourself, drizzled like fine coconut-scented oil. Do not miss a spot, even on the parts that you have a problem with. In fact, give those extra love.
And now, for the rub*: This has been simmering for a while. It is time to push it all into the oven and bake it. The heat is rising, so be quick.
Take all precious memories and sew them into the pockets of your coat. The ugly ones, burn, quickly and thoroughly. Scatter the ashes into the wind.
Hang new pictures on the wall.  Splashes of nature you have photographed. Mandalas created by a precious daughter. A platypus wishing you goodnight by your little flower imp. A cheeky photo of your boy, to remind you of inner sauciness.
All of these strengthen with love.

Finally, rest your head upon the new pillow and inhale the scent of freshly laundered springtime. For now, the ordeal of your winter has ended.

Time for a long, languid, luxurious dessert.
A new life!

Bon appetite!

young trees
gaze skyward,
their branches thick
with a visual feast
of floral shish kabob
prepared in sunshine
with a rain marinade,
a treat
of the season.

My love talks to herself in her sleep
commanding an enormous kitchen staff
preparing a meal from what dreams are made of.

"GaaaaarlicK! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"
"Cheeeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"
"Mor­rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre"
"Cheeeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"
S­nore "sages ...Morrrrrrre...." Snore "sages"

Then a simmering silence for a while,
and just before I fall asleep myself,
the kitchen boils over again with activity.
Now the helter skelter pace is incomprehensible,
a mumbling crescendo then finally some silence.

And I am left to dream
my dreams
in a full and satisfied sleep
leftover of a day
that wasn't so crummy
though slightly flaky and not worth repeating
without a healthy supply of zantac.

Five more dossiers slam down
beside you, bosses look stern
and flick through to spite you,
crossing off task after task:
appraisal target attitude,
shred your worries and feign
a false sense of gratitude,
scribble a signature, pretend
that you won't work here long.
It's just a stop gap, well,
one of two, perhaps after this
you'll be hired by another few.

Ten minute lunch, more bitter
than ***** tabasco juice
but ****** Mary and Jesus,
keep your mind on the salary
and you might get through
tapping and typing away
for a parasitic conglomerate
who barely remembers you.
Wolf down the freedom,
spark a fossil fuel fire on
your tobacconists’ anti-stress
breathing flute, clench
fists as you trudge through
the muck and the mire.

They laugh as you slump
over your desktop, under
the fifteen thousand word
count a day, hundreds
of calls and email favours
still you get payed for less
than half of your labour.
One look to the surroundings,
the folks in your office, step
back from your desk and hand
in your notice; sell your assets,
share your amenities,
cut off your phone-line,
don’t pay your licence fees.

At the door, the postman
struggles with bills and notices,
pushing and prying
more and more letters
the poor fellow moans as
you almost clap his efforts.
Gathering dust, your post
gets pushed up the stairs.
Knocking out your wellbeing,
this builds up in piles to
the height of your ceiling
until one day you awaken
with no gas or lighting,
nothing to quench or feed,
your rumbling stomach
near delirious being.

No more in awe, frightened
to express your distaste
for nine to five slavery
you pile a large steel cylinder
with technology and clutter;
letters and junk-mail literature.
Lighter fluid marinade you
feel empowered like
the folks at the gas board.
Pull out a matchbox
strike to a major chord.
Prepare for the roaring
of bureaucratic nonsense
burning and fizzling.

Strike one, the phosphorus
occupies your nostrils,
how sweet the smell
of keratin, and butane,
kerosine and hydrogen.
Strike two the match ignites,
the wind breaks your bindings,
you relax with such laughter
that the flickering orange
flame blows into a cinder,
smoke pining. Rig the pack
and pull out your portable
lighter, the whole box of
matches sets joyfully on fire.

Like witch over cauldron
you cackle and crack up
toss in the phosphorescent
rectangular prism to
the concoction which kept
you imprisoned for month
after month; year after year
you’d forgotten to fulfil
that dream, pull out your
mobile and text your queen
‘Let’s move to the mountains
and bask in the heat; revel in

rebellion. Reject, neigh, defeat
the notion that we must sit
at computers like digital sheep
that we can’t cross an ocean
on our own two feet.
We can grow our own grain
and cull our own wheat’
Whip out your tickets and jump
on the flight here lies a path,
come forth and fulfil it tonight.

I poeticize, proselytize
Punctuate and pontificate.
I write couplets and rhymes
And I really do it all the time.
I exacerbate and exaggerate
With no desire to intimidate.
I make similes and metaphors
Indoors and even out of doors.

There’s cussing and discussion
And sharp literary impressions
Through diversions, conversions
Allusions as well as conclusions.
And with luck, no delusions.
Just syllabically deft fusions
Of some deferential references
With a deft touch of reverence.

I rhyme thyme with fresh lime
And cardamom with cinnamon.
Sweetbreads and shortbreads.
Chicken bones and licking scones.
Rhyming pumpkins with dumplings
And matching up filets with filberts
Just as cocoa goes well with Kona.
Marmalade can be a good marinade.

I rhyme chrome wheels and automobiles,
Freeway off-ramps and Tiffany lamps.
Cellophane and vintage airplanes.
Flapper vamps and streetwalking tramps.
Also Cinderella coaches and cockroaches,
Nothing is unfair game to a busy poet.
As well as RCA Victors and boa constrictors.
Since I’m a poet, everyone should know it.

I am often asked this question in comments, private notes and emails.

The short answer is: I don’t know.

I don’t know if there is an answer or if I’m the man to even try.

First, there are probably as many ways to write poetry as there are poets. I can’t imagine any one size fits all template. That is too horrible to contemplate.

Second, my method is actually a non-method. I will describe it, but I doubt it will be useful or transferable.

I have been a fanatical reader all my life. I still am. I probably read an average of three books per week. This has been going on for decades.

I have been reading poetry seriously for perhaps 43 years, including being taught how to read closely by some brilliant professors as an undergraduate and graduate student.

This has deposited an enormous mishmash of poems, sentences, images, phrases and fragments in my brain. Add to that mishmash decades of reading across disciplines, especially history, philosophy, religion and novels. Imagine that mishmash slowly marinading and fermenting.

From that random accumulation, without provocation on my part, poems emerge. There is no order to this and not much effort. I just channel what shows up. I do some retouching, but little serious rewriting.

And there you have it: my non-method. It should be obvious why I doubt it will be of much help to anyone else.

I can give a bit of advice, but only based on my experience.

Love words. Love to learn them. Love to play with them. Delight in them.

Read as much poetry as you possibly can. I doubt anyone can become a poet without doing this.

Be patient. It takes a while for the marinade to work. I’m 65 and I only began writing seriously eight years ago.

Find your own method and your own voice. You’ll know when that voice is authentic.

And then, sing out.

We'll always have...
Orion, there to cheer up any fight.

each other, since we've been together
and every. other. single. night.

the holy place.
and all it's mystical wonders.

I'll always have you,
I've since needed nothing other

than your soul
& mine together

No better time could be spent.

I love you more than evil men
love having power, greed, and lust.

I love you there & back again,
until my heart feels like it could bust.

I love you more than I love loving you,
laugh at that if you must.

But the love I love, while loving you
is hardly enough love, it is unjust.

The way you kiss me
Reveals to me the kind
of person you are
Don't just jab it in
Be soft and slow and sweet
Use a little less tongue at first
Tease me then bring on the heat
Let me set the pace
Then you follow my lead
Slow it down this is not a race
Taste me ~ Savor me
Marinade me in your mind
Think of me until we meet next time
We can keep it going trying
as many times as we can
if it's not right change it up
And just start again :)

we don
our
helmets
boots and shields
now
i
ask
the
red warrior
planet of mars
to marinade
our
hearts
with
courage

This is immediate
Everyday, hour
Every time, every moment
Accompanying a lack of denial
Or refusal, is a confidence
My head is level
Eyes are straight
Heart is a little off beat
Even still,
Keeping possessed by this thoughtful nature and
the usher cast for a mind under clouds
Those chords from those organs
Equal:
My understanding
My forecast
My disbelief
My expected
My growth
My overthrown
My burn
My yearn
But I do deny what is known
from hearing the being
And seeing what I was hearing
Held my place for seasoning to marinade and stew in
A well rehearsed
And tirelessly versed
Can’t deny how much comes and
what is earned
is now learned
Forever renouncing any feels of the spurned
Laid this body down over puddles in storms
In a wonder what will form
That's the drive most important
Only the girl,
She's all that really ever matters, only this one

for her return

I am a cannibal.
I savor men’s fine taste
and snap up scrawny skulls;
Spent bodies left to waste.

But do not hoard your children.
Their flesh is far too sweet,
Innocently tendered and
Often curdling in the heat.

Age is my marinade,
It greases flesh like wine
Soaked and smoked in scarlet
With broken, twisted spines

And I am not alone.
Though they may feel otherwise
Since though I eat your body
The heart’s their only prize.

Do you hear me weeping,
Creeping during the night?
Sigh deep when I am sleeping
But you’re always in their sight.

It's not as easy as you think
It's really one big scare.
They'll tell you what you want to hear
In hopes that you don't care.
"We're not that dumb-
At least, I'm not.
Nice try, you get me here."
But listen, man, I understand
Sit down, let's share a beer.
Let me explain- I know it all
You can't hide from me anymore
And, actually, you know the truth
Their opinions make you sore.
Not only do they say it
They marinade it- give it a coat
They cook it up all nice and sweet
Before they shove it down your throat.
You have no thoughts
You're not you're own
You're the checker in their game
Let's show them who we really are
Let's show them why we came.
Secretly, they fight to lose
And they've never really won
But have you since been listening?
They don't talk just for fun.
See, they don't wrap it up
They strive to keep you waiting
Don't worry, son, it's not your fault
It's all part of their training.
Armies are built, families- lost
They've planned it all along
They know just what they're doing
And you must decide who's boss.
Which commander do you follow?
Is it freedom, is it lies?
Have you seen under that pretty mask?
Have you seen through their disguise?
It's time to fight- the war is on
The gear and armor ready
Pick your side, just take your time
We're here and holding steady.
So it's your choice,
You've got it all-
Fight or stay at home
Just remember what they've done to you
Let's make our presence known.

Oh, I want to tell you. Believe me, I do.
I want to tell you how much it all hurts,
and how I hear your heartbeat in the chorus of every song.
If I could only reach the depths of your mind you never let me touch
we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.
I want to scream at you, trust me, I do.
I ache to let my rage reign at full capacity,
and give you hell that burns eternally.

I'm afraid if I let these words marinade in my hatred,
I'll become far too bitter a person.
And what if your taste never leaves my lips?
I want to ask you.

Here we are, though.
I'm not speaking, screaming, and certainly not asking.
I'll drown my sorrows in something shameful,
and pray you care to save me.

I am a gingerbread
   sweet tangy ******* head
addicted to making
   marmalade sunsets
playing funeral organs
    cooking grass
on my BBQ
     I stir with
olde english
     marinade with you
on a bed of roses
     on our hill
growing wild sassy
          cooking stews
of parsnips wild onions
     marmalade you and
the morning dew.

I am ever so simply a woman and so I liquify from the waist down and on the eve of a disastrous morning, I use the tips of your your lips as marmalade and marinade within the notion of you. If I was to ever go mad, it'd surely be based on the mere idea that you once knew me as certain as you knew the difference between a prism and a square, just additions and subtractions of necessary and unnecessary lines.

This is so unexpected
What ever you are serving I am eating.
A steak fillet served soft, with the taste of your lips.
Green and red peppers seared hot,
Over open flame.
A special marinade blend, severed with wine.
I'm sure the first bite will melt in my mouth.
Grabbing knife and fork.
The juices filling my mouth, as succulent as you.
Crossing my mind with every bite.
Imagining you on the other end
Filling my mouth.
Unexpected that you'd call.
Are you more surprised that I picked up.
What ever you want to do.
What ever you are serving, I am eating.
Long as I'm with you

You and I -
Are like a flower
And a bee
Like a dancing leaf
On a rain fed tree
Like golden sands
And waves in the bay
Like a float of clouds
On a summer day

I am the icing
You are the cake
I am the spice
You're the marinade
I am the biscuit
You are the tea
I am the butter
You're the patty

I am the lace
You are the shoe
I am the prop
You are the cue
I am the move
You are the twist
I am the pout
You are the kiss


I am the grooves
Within your cheek
And the dimples
That hide and seek
You are the smile
I am the giggle
You are the laughter
I am the tickle.


You and I
Make a we
Some music,
Some laughter
And poetry

As I lay here on my bed
My soul is falling
Down
Into a deep deep pit

No

Not falling
My soul IS the pit
And I fall into it
I am not drowning in my fear
Rather I see it as a marinade
Of gasoline and gunpowder
I dwell in it, soak it into my skin
And wait for the match to light

As I sit here
My arms and head are heavy
Though my eyes leave the ground
They always return swiftly
I no longer can look into your eyes
With confidence
I feel I have failed you
More than the rest
More than myself

I see you
And my whole being shakes with envy
My stomach is twisted with jealousy
All that I desire in life
You have
I find no solace in slumber
No respite in my dreams
Night after night
Week after week
I dream of my failures
I'm haunted by the ghosts of my shortcomings
And wounded by your spectre of success.

We never flex..
we never rest..
I learned to live with no regrets..
like nahh I ain't seen them yet..
they never come over to visit..
I still **** wit my ******
Tryna teach something and roll something everyday..
willing to listen all ways..
from every direction we tryna get paid..
I am the master of my own fate..
no slave ships just yacht days..
whips and chains just to misbehave..
Runnin for gold tryna overcome the maze..
still blasting joy and pain..
like everyday..
balance ..
the weight I lift on my shoulders ..
boulders, a country and a couple mountains..
but who's counting ...
unless it's the money..
she said I changed when I ain't want the change on me..
let em have it..
it's good to be a blessing to those who don't have it..
cause if I didn't ...
I know **** well I would grasp it..
I'm tryna show time I am magic..
yellow Porsche carrera 911 package
wood grain and all black leather lavish
staring at the world in my rear view blasting  
On the gas mashin..
never ever crashin..
smooth sailing wit plenty cabbage..
she tell me slow down take my time..
I said I been Robbin all my life..
I think Ima take advantage of tonight..
DJ quik and some sprite..
future stick talk and hella yellow rice..
siracha in the marinade?
Nice..
we just livin life right?
We Can't afford to think twice..
so we got paid to think wise..
So we Chase our visions and sights..