I hear the rhythmic clapping
And feel the pounding of feet on the ground
As dust swirls and dances around
While I sit facing the sun
In all her divine beauty.
Encased in the wood of the red gum tree,
I am at peace.
Burnum carves my totem outside
Surrounded by holy men,
Loved ones and ancestors.
This is my signifier and protection.
I am Miki the moon
Recently returned to my tribe
Heeding the call of the spirits.
My people mourn deeply
But know I will come again
To be at one with them,
First I must commune with the great creator
Rainbow spirit of the sky
For now is the time for dreaming.

Ano nga ba ang pag-ibig?
Nakakain? Naluluwa? Natututunan katulad ng aralin o nababasa katulad ng mga maiikling tula?
Nanggaling ba ito sa mga kwentong banyaga at kwentong matatanda?
Siyensya? napaliwanag na ba niyan?

sa totoo lang di mo yan napag-aaralan,
kusa mo kasi yang mararamdam.
di mo rin yan pwede ipilit,
para kasi yang tao, kusang yang pumipili.

di rin yan nakakain katulad ng paborito **** chicken
o ng paborito **** pansit bihon, miki o canton.
hindi rin mahahalintulad sa mga palabas o mga kwentong wattpad na mababasa mo sa libro.

at para sa iba, sabi, pana raw ni kupido ang dahilan
tinig ng sirena naman ang kwento ng iilan.
di naman dahil raw kasi sa naaakit sila sa panlabas na kaanyuan.
hahahaha kalokohan.

Wala pang nakakapagpaliwanag niyan.
siyensya? pwe, di lahat kaya niyan patunayan
basta para sa akin, isa lang ang alam ko diyan.
Ang pag-ibig ay regalo mula sa langit.

di mo na kailangan pag-aralan,
di mo na kailangan pagexperementuhan
di mo na kailangan ng kahit na anong katibayan.
tandaan mo lang. Regalo yan ng may kapal.

kaya bilang tipikal at praktikal na estudyante, wag kang magmadali,
darating rin sayo ang mga bagay na ganyan
Di mo lang alam, matagal nang nakasulat sa tadhana mo ang kwento na nakalaan sayo.

wag **** pangunahan!

imbis na pairalin ang tibok ng dibdib,
subukan paganahin ang isip.

MANGARAP! MAG-ARAL! MAGPURSIGI!

wag muna maglandi!

pag-aaral ang unahin
para makabawi sa paghihirap ng mga magulang natin.

at huling pasabi para sa lahat ng kabataan
at basta paalala sa lahat ng umiibig,
wag **** hayaang mabihag ka ng kalituhan ng mundo
protektahan mo sarili mo.
yakapin mo ang puso mo.

Regalo ng may kapal,
Pangalagaan mo.

to my Madolyn, Rob , Soliana, Malak, Pinkpearl, Daniel, BJ, Miki, Jules, Willow, Poets Rain, Her, Ashan, Billy, Katelyn, Kirstens, Leah, Emily, Liz, Skyler, HB, Danielle, Robin, Lynnie, Veer, Abigail, and Fawn

We haven't been here long
At all
But your support has been
overwhelming
...to us at least

We haven't written masterpieces
At all
But your responses have been
overpowering
...to us at least

Know we notice you,
Know we recognize you,
and try to get to know you
through the words you present

We could never repay you
At all
But, please, don't forget
we love you
...to say the least

We are honored
We will always work to honor you


Sincerely yours,
A&T (seriously not a ripoff)

P.S.
I can't handle anymore people so you guys are going to have
to help me ****** anyone new coming over. I'll pay.

Now picture this... I communed with chaos and conjured up an ancient conquistador by the name of Quetzalcoatl. He called me a chickenshit coward before grabbing me by my cranial consciousness container; and with a chiropractic crack, just like that, my chakras connected and I channeled the grizzled ghost of Ol' Ronnie Reagan. He gurgled a “Hello” and grumbled “Just Say No” ... “Did you know my Nancy fancied fucktarded fantasies, or that she believed in batshit lunacy like astrology and necromancy?" ***** better know, it's bros before hoes cuz this ghost with the most is about to get gangsta with my ***** Miki-G... "Yo, Gorbachev, you old goblin goat, wipe off that **** stain on your head and tear down that muthafuckin' wall.” After guzzling a gallon of ***** Putin ****** in, he gave Ol’ Ron a wink with a glowing goat eye of iris framed rectangle dark... lowering his headgear he ran slowly while singing a slurred ***** polka rendition of possibly a ***** Riot song. The chorus went something like "******* the Bolsheviks with 11 inch strap-on *****" to which Ronnie replied, “Ewe can dew it to Nancy too!”, as his horns hit cement setting off the biggest supernova block party this side of the galaxy. When the dust settled, everybody was gone and all was right with the quarks and the gluons. The quasars aligned and spun in a symmetrical dance inducing this trance that gave me the vision of which you are reading and the bliss about to unfold here on the shores of Château de Event Horizon, my own private island. As I watch the goblin goats manufactured from the genes of Gorbachev graze the galactic grassy knoll, I’m soon seduced by the song of a sidereal siren... KA-BLAM a ******* shipwreck I endure. When I came to, at the end of my rescue, by whom I suspect to be the same starry-eyed saboteur. She whispers somniferously that to be saved I must partake in her hedonist holy communion. “Drink this neutron star wine in remembrance of my taste, distilled from grapes grown on gamma ray vines representing the lust-laced blood of salvation.” I, a blissom blind bavian obviously, find myself beneath an altar awaiting with bated breath and baculus bombé, bewitched by this bathykolpian beauty of absolute perfection, it’s made clear from my enormous ******* that I’m eager to worship betwixt her exquisite bombosity. “I come to you… er... and on you... with this sacrificial offering of byssus ******* and baptismal borborology... but before I implore... first, hit this baetyl of brume and breathe in a Big Bang **** hit of some killer cosmic kush grown on Kepler 452…. *******?”

“What if I were to bind you up with a sash? Byssus bound with blindfold, and belayed beautifully as can be. Blissom confinement is liberating when not meant to abash. Bestowing to you a masterpiece in *******, a most exquisite ligatured apogee.”

Exhaling miasmic veils of woven haze blindfolds she blows, until we are unable to see. Instead we let our lips caress each others flesh in search of the treasures buried just below. The ritual begins when I go down to taste your nectar of the gods, feel my fingers scrawl spells on your flesh in hieroglyphic haste, Anubis awakes when I invoke he to weigh my heart and become Osiris resurrected, manifested as broken pieces tossed and lost by the tempest of temptation. To traverse this tribulation and emerge triumphant, invoke Isis and find the 13 to complete the puzzle of my psyche. But if you want your toes curled and that shaking sensation, it’s 14 you’ll need to complete the capstone of my ******* obelisk. Then we can transcend by the touch of the tongue, ******* ritual recitation through unspoken glossolalia until we complete our journey to become the Gods of our own creation. Why should we not manifest through sensual sidereal sexuality? Orchestrating a galactic glowing mass of groans from groins grinding in tune with the pulsar powered music produced by Love, Lust, and Longing. Our libidos vibrate as sine waves in harmony with strummed string theory, for we are the Cosmic Conductors controlling this sonorous ****** symphony riding gravitational waves that will forever ripple throughout the fabric of spacetime. Cosmological carnal knowledge collapses and condenses our atoms, coalescing to produce photons of pure light to illuminate the encroaching dark void of loneliness which desires to devour it all.

Now picture this... I communed with chaos and conjured up an ancient conquistador by the name of Quetzalcoatl. He called me a chickenshit coward then grabbed me by my cranial consciousness container; and with a chiropractic crack, just like that, my chakras connected and I channeled the grizzled ghost of Ol' Ronnie Reagan. He gurgled a “Hello” and grumbled “Just Say No. Did you know my Nancy fancied ******* fantasies, and that bedlamite believed in astrology and necromancy? ***** better know, it's bros before hoes cuz this ghost with the most is about to get gangsta with my ***** Miki-G... Yo, Gorbachev, you old goblin goat, wipe off that **** stain on your head and tear down this muthafuckin wall.” After guzzling a gallon of ***** distilled through Vlad Putin's ego, he gave me a wink from a glowing goat eye of iris framed rectangle dark... then lowered his headgear and destroyed the blockade like a supernova midnight pool party for Gremlins and grenades. When the dust settled, everything was gone and all was right with the quarks and the gluons. The quasars aligned and spun in a symmetrical dance inducing a trance; showing me it was gonna be a great day here on the shores of Château de Event Horizon, my own private island. Where I will watch my goblin goats with genes of Gorbachev, graze the galactic grass while I wait for a companion to come. Another cynical cosmonaut to converse with through this and partake in this holy communion. Where neutron star wine made from the grapes grown on gamma rays represents the life force of beautiful bombshells of red, brunette, and blonde. Lust-laced blood we bathe and become baptized in; breathing from the baetyl of brume taking Big Bang **** hits of killer kush grown on Kepler 452. The haze making it hard to see, when we feast on the flesh force fed to each other; for we are the Gods creating our reality. Leading to a galactic gathering of groans from groins grinding in tune with the pulsar powered music called Love Lust and Longing. Our libidos sing the sine wave sounds and strum the string theory, for we are the Cosmic Conductors created from stardust now streaming the vibrations of this ****** symphony throughout the fabric of spacetime. Cosmological carnal knowledge collapsing and condensing, the coalescing creates pure light from new stars being born to illuminate the darkness dwelling within us all.

The golden baby
In the last slice of Mardigras cake

A half dollar
Well after they stopped being printed

A rare right sided conch
When most others are left

Are the rare treasures I find buried underneath

The glass bird
Dainty as can be
And the size of a nail

The miniature tea cup
A full set
Spoon and all

The Minni and Miki
Mouse holiday wear
mini collectibles

Miniature Kitty Kat
Pouches
In four different colors

Are the tiny bobbles I couldn’t bear to part with

The multitudes of dice
From classic six sided
To 8 To 12
Even dice in dice
More than can be counted

Erasers by the gazillions
Stingrays, baseball gloves
Eraser pencils with missing erasers
And a baby head detached from the body

Keychains, by the plenty
Sunglasses, Weapons
Dream catchers, bird’s with bells, all sorts
Of strange and curious oddities attached to a chain

Coins, many sizes countries
Fake, real
Dinar, Rupee, Euro, dollar,
Replica of ancient yuan

Jewelry-
Don’t even get me started
Necklaces, bracelets
Rings and earrings
Even though my ears aren’t pierced!

My hoarding tendencies coming to light in this
Curious collection of collections
Also known as
The objects in my closet