looking at the mirror
even if not apparent
there is another image
another world, another half
on one side, the fanfare
the other, the silence
resilience amid despair
on one side, all I hear
the other, all that is left unsaid
and I still insist
to remain conscious
apparent
in one hand, nurturance
in the other, discouragement
absent
transposing every moment
that I still stopped
silent, talking
looking at the mirror
even if not apparent
there is another image
another world, another half
in one hand, the missing
and in the other
too.

As stars reflect the knowledge of the sacred,
The boiling seas of the cosmos churn acrid.
Upon the nurturance of Venus' passionate quivering calls exclaimed,
The essence of God's wrath so lovingly made tame.
As the chariots of love, upon the courtships of epic virtue, possess,
Our goddess sisters, import the specialty of rule, for which the governs obsess.
As Boreas' trumpet sounds a euphoric ecstatic bliss,
Rosicrucian passion bells hither, to a faint swaying and hiss.
As the murmuring embers of the divine, left receded,
Hour of humanities past, no time of present, so subtley defeated.
As upon death, a mummy spreads its rein,
Crucibles of knowledge, all for not, in vain.
The seduction of fertility and the mysteries left to relish,
Though made bitter upon showers of mourn, to embellish.
The disillusionment of our fathers’ petty immortal opportunity made solemn,
The wisest of men, why, amongst the true, made golem.
Take precedence, then and now, when upon your throne of pride,
As the winds of wrath call upon, our savior’s passion tried.
In due notion a precedence of time, without respect,
A fulfillment of God's love, our souls to resurrect.
As dragons drew the chariots of night with profound duration,
A coward’s sword in hand, his skewer's elation.
As stars reflect the knowledge  of the sacred,
Humanities, why… derision for dole, left shaken.
As prophets emit, as seen thus…
When stars do let fall the Sun,
Pray thee, a heavenly Venus.

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You tuck your tummy
You wish it is flat
You neglect its wishes
All she wants is listen
And give her dire attention


Your belly
The seat of creation
Find the chakra of passion
Expanding to the universe so designed
Feed her with nurturance

It gives you butterflies
It constipates with unease

Ditch the girdle
The belly jeans
That which constricts its breath
Celebrate its roundedness

Walk and be proud as tall as a tree
Honor thy Womb.

Can't be at ease in the comfort
Of fuzzy untruth this is only a
Slice of reality and I have no feel
For its limited nurturance
This cup of coffee isn't my cup of tea
Missing the edge of purpose
Needing the pull of importance
Isn't within me I am but a tool
In creators tool box
A fool for the thrill of ultimate
So weak and crumbled when dust
Settles in my cracks
I need to see within further beyond and
Out of this world
I need to feel the warmth of your
Souls breath
Embrace your pain
For mine was ever lonely
Always dropped by another
It was too heavy they say
Cast iron it seemed
Nice to rely on its heavy duty
Wall of patience
I got used to it
Direction lost in a whirlpool
Today
Limitations everywhere I turn
Reality reflects little of me
Little of the world
I never knew where I belonged
Only in this one on one
Staring void of all else
Gone
Shaken by the waves of
Their tormented natures
And life is beautiful
In the high pitched
Whine of a violins complaint
And I know no other way
To keep my livelihood
Than to be this joke of a savior
That is how I save myself
If I don't explode or run from life

I stood there with my hands out begging for forgiveness
She gave it but I wilted, until the sun help me to stand
And together we grew on common ground
Understanding fueling my defeat of grief
Leafs budding from rooted truth
We healed with what we both knew
Time passed by, I loved her still
Her freckled face, her sheer will
She was the brightest flower I had seen
But her brilliance became less green
She would take the nurturance we once had shared
She started pulling at my petals
Telling me I wasn’t bright
Saying things to make her light shine
And sneaking all the sun
I let it be, I let her have her fun
I took it every time
Knowing she had once took mine
Thorns took place of soft vulnerabilities
And she stung instead of happy memories
What happened to that flower?
What happened to her power?
What happened to the beauty?
When did you get so *****?

A home filled with warmth and nurturance
Where you don't have to bluff yourself
Because no one judges you

A home full of consolation
With people you can lean on
Through thunders and joyful times

During pitch-dark days
With no direction to move forward
Powerless,misery and mournfulness
Falling down from cloud 9
Their hands always open to catch you
They never wane from your sight

Family is everything

-Lakhana

So many bumps in the unfolding of a day,
a month,
a year,
a series of eclipses
brought me to an inner caving

to become reunited with the fact that i am on a path going somewhere, i do not know;

desperately trying to retain scraps of the past
in the efforts of a sense of longevity,
my life has become absorbed by the feeling that i lack it

its a nice try
but you can't really force anything
its no longer for a reason
it wouldn't be your past if you were still living in it

elements still remain the same
but you don't listen to the ramone's anymore
or watch horror movies and existential dramas on a daily basis

that energy though, that desire for that energy
that release,
that expression
is still there; its just transformed.

you didn't lose anything,
you just went to the next level.

its just this need to be so extreme, still
the need to busy myself
to fill up the time w/ new things.

why not just embrace the coming and going?
the subtlety of it
why does that have to be "death" as we know it?
the going of the old and coming of the new

after ever having never been a beach person, i now realize that it is a setting for the embracing of the state (event) of transition

i guess that's why i've been being attracted to it, and the moon;
to water.

theres so much ebb and flow.
the being "ruled" by "something"
"something" so much larger than you
but i am brought back down to the imagery of the here and now,
of my basement,
to the need for me to cast my life out like a fishing line;
to stop eating the words of others in hopes of sustenance.
to stop eating their poison,
depression;
illness; inner decay

to take the sins of others off the menu.

Can that realization be enough?
that i don't want to devour anything, anymore

Learning to not devour worlds as a life lesson.

and knowing that the world i want to be in
is the one of reminding myself that it's okay to wander,
a world of nurturance
of feeding and being fed.

untimely death sentence ordained
approximately six months prior
to mother dearest celebrating
her seventieth birthday,
though the last three years of her life
impacted courtesy hysterectomy
to remove malignant growth,
which severely limited
mobility of once vivacious
former Arthur Murray
ballroom dance teacher
when she exuded youthful innocence.

The remaining lines comprising
following reasonable rhyme
crafted quite so many moons ago
exhibit exemplary codified cobbled attempt
to communicate belated filial declaration.

Test teasing prophylactics embarrassing
purchase never made at local drugstore
unsurprisingly, obviously, invariably...
birth control taboo subject, best to ignore
subsequently ******* awkwardly coordinated,
consummated, completed extempore
hence bun in the oven bon jure

yielded unicellular spore
while in utero ~ early/mid
February I ain't exactly sure
nineteen hundred thirty five - dirt poor
Harriet Harris, fourth, last born
fetched vicinity Coney Island offshore

by stork, became favorite progeny begat
courtesy Morris, and then swore
celibacy forever more
Rebeckah Kuritsky heretofore
harbored inchoate genetic fore
boded, encoded, inscribed
deadly mutations housed,

fetched, dispatched and bore
flawed BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes sketched
affecting circumscribing her allotted mortality
orbitz equaling about three and a half score
unknowingly, unsuspectingly, unwittingly,
her biologic fatal demise indelibly etched.

Breast cancer first brush
sounded death knell
Harriet approximately clocked fifty plus
underwent grueling radiation
plus chemotherapy
carcinoma eradicated allowed,
enabled, provided breathing spell

reprieve accentuated, galvanized, punctuated...
newfound zealous zest almost
nothing could quell
significance pray tell
new lease on life to sell
lib berate cherish, relish, whish

each precious moment
thwarting pell mell
adversity with bon vivant elan
and gusto to issue rebel yell
kickstarting, making breast
livingsocial aye bell,

especially after despite... er... well
her double mastectomy,
she looked fabulously swell
courtesy silicon implants
slight downside reconstituted
racked ***** *****
susceptible to ooze gel.

Many years post remission telltale
diagnosis, viz ovarian,
despite requisite hysterectomy
emotionally did impale,
she instinctually, intuitively,
invariably, yet quiver and quail

against impending demise 24/7 did assail
guardian angel(s) of no avail,
nor did yours truly proffer nurturance
resentment smoldering within this male
red hot poker anger lambasting me
peppered with ultimatums to vamoose,

never got resolved ensuing estrangement
deterred reaching out to embrace,
hearing raspy fading breaths exhale,
miserably tethered with tubes,
when she did severely pine
silently beckoning sole son
never knowing extent she did ail

and after seventeen plus years ago
still grievously, necessarily,
and unquestionably bewail
corporeal essence ashen pale
awkwardly, helplessly, stupidly... I stood
formidable grim reaper foe whisked mother
to Elysian fielded dale.

soft like the moss growing on a warm day
between hard brick and asphalt -
we are still left to pave more of this ****,
what was written in a bible over broken ribs,
with an image of us cooking them in an apron.
we are taught to grow softly and tacitly,
not to make a scene or blow fuses in outage,
a complex dance of stereotypes and structure,
boxing up traits of passivity and ruthless nurturance.
we only know what we've been taught -
pinning gentle arms across tense virility,
to thank them for protection and armour -
which has only caused confusion and dissonance.
i craft my words wisely here, hiss for answers -
because anything more would make me too much,
they try to box me up, but never find one big enough.
our femininity does not equal vacancy,
empathy or vigour, neither gender-specific -
but i sometimes think we got different tools,
a baby doll, a kitchen set, i've learned to care
because i had no other option but to.
i've been wearing pants, paying the bills,
and still making time for dinner.
i still feel none the wiser -
sometimes i wish i was just handed a puzzle,
but we'd still have to thank them for the opportunity.

1935 - ~ May 4th, 2005
(untimely death sentence ordained ~ early February 1935)

I trot out a poem acknowledging birthday
of dear ole mom, who succumbed,
lost lease on life
nearly two decades ago,
who frequently asked me,
but never received acknowledgement
during her livingsocial years did abjure
(as the sole son)
communicating HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

Test teasing prophylactics embarrassing
purchase never made at local drugstore
unsurprisingly, obviously, invariably...
birth control taboo subject, best to ignore
subsequently ******* awkwardly coordinated,
consummated, completed extempore
courtesy the mythic sheet with a hole
through which prudish  
maternal grandparents supposedly copulated
hence bun in the oven bon jure

yielded unicellular spore
while in utero ~ early/mid
February I ain't exactly sure
nineteen hundred thirty five - dirt poor
Harriet Harris, fourth, last born
(interesting enough shared same birthdate
with eldest sister twelve years her senior)
fetched vicinity Coney Island offshore
by stork, became favorite progeny begat
courtesy Morris, and then swore
celibacy forever more

Rebeckah Kuritsky heretofore
harbored inchoate genetic fore
boded, encoded, inscribed
deadly mutations housed,
fetched, dispatched and bore
flawed BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes sketched
affecting circumscribing her allotted mortality
orbitz equaling about six months shy
of three and a half score
unknowingly, unsuspectingly, unwittingly,
her biologic fatal demise indelibly etched.

Breast cancer first brush
sounded death knell
Harriet approximately clocked fifty plus
orbitz around the sun,
she underwent grueling radiation
plus chemotherapy
carcinoma eradicated allowed,
enabled, provided breathing spell
reprieve accentuated, galvanized, punctuated...

newfound zealous zest almost
nothing could quell
significance pray tell
new lease on life to sell
lib berate cherish, relish, whish
each precious moment
thwarting pell mell
adversity with bon vivant elan
and gusto to issue rebel yell

kickstarting, making breast
livingsocial aye bell,
especially after despite... er... well
her double mastectomy,
she looked fabulously swell
courtesy silicon implants
slight downside reconstituted
racked ***** *****
susceptible to ooze gel.

Many years post remission telltale
diagnosis, viz ovarian,
despite requisite hysterectomy
emotionally did impale,
she instinctually, intuitively,
invariably, yet quiver and quail

against impending demise 24/7 did assail
guardian angel(s) of no avail,
nor did yours truly proffer nurturance
resentment smoldering within this male
red hot poker anger lambasting me
peppered with ultimatums to vamoose,

never got resolved ensuing estrangement
deterred reaching out to embrace,
hearing raspy fading breaths exhale,
miserably tethered with tubes
when she did severely pine ail

and grievously bewail
corporeal essence ashen pale
awkwardly, helplessly, stupidly... I stood
formidable grim reaper foe whisked mother
to Elysian fielded dale.

I actually thought this ****
Voices were encouragement
Deserving it
That flourishes
With nurturance
And purposeness
A worthless word discourages
But jesus returns the world from
Murderous
Destruction
Of governments
Corrupted greed
And people without words to fit.
The urgent times
That emerge from surface looks
And ownership of
Currency
You think determines it
You still feel worthlessness
No matter earnings
Or status. Terms of searching
Left unfollowed
Untill your emptiness resurfaces
Its head is like an urchin
With a body of a life built on
Self esteem determined by purchases
Never returning love
To those who've truly earned that ****.
I speak as if I'm perfectness
In fact I'm pre determined
To emerge as being
Neither perfect
Nervous. Entitled or worthless
In a sea of certain defeat
I emerge a beast.
The mirror image of
Plural need.
My girls a freak.
My boys a beast.
In between is dreams.
Of worldly peace.
In earthly scenes that shoot like solar flares as time and space unfurls
Against a blackened sky
That hides its hurling mass into a further speed.
So free and in her perfect dream