When I look into the moon I see the only dependent part of me that still exists. Its as if the silence in her vocal cords spoke words of solitude. I gave her the only bio mechanical part of me that mattered.

The gears in my chest keep turning like clock work.
I count seconds into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into days. I keep thinking time is standing still while im still standing still.

I'm waiting, waiting on patience and as unjustified as it sounds I'm impatient. Dreams are just your natural thoughts heavily sedated, a sub-conscious reality based off the feelings we cant display them.

I don't consider myself a writer, I see the constant flow of words and as a kid it left me inspired. I'm more of the sub concious reality type. I drink coffee and outside of that I really don't have a life.

For me writing is self exspression without being judged by others.
I opinionate my feelings and organize them in ink. The papper is my empty canvas, my thoughts are my judgment, and the pen is the deliverer.

Sometimes writing is the only thing that can stitch my wounds, like the words curved inside my brain penetrating like the needlesof a tattoo. I wonder what will become me, in what paradox will I redeem the sum of me?

I just hope this bio mechanical heart ticks away. I hope people continue to be people with different mindsets and open steeples. I want love to be found and dreams to be created.

Kalvin Moon

Quacking ducks
Dung throwers
Degenerate, opinionate

No plea for serenity
No chance for reverence
Only less politeness

Survival of the fittest
Hegemony of the crudest
Twitter for the *****

Cracks run through you, doubt has overtaken; in a blighted show of this modern world
Faith, no longer enough for those with razor minds, 'though all of us make a leap at some bedeviled stage

For life, 'tis not knowable in its entirety
One needs to opinionate themselves to a world view, slick reasoning giving way to crunchy ideas that rot the soul
A faction; to alleviate lonliness' in dogma

In this age of logic
We have lost our heart

they receive, interpet, discard, rehydrate, delegate, redistribute,
brook no, smile stupidly at stupidity, opinionate but never lecture,
never hector, rarely curse unless it is essential, tell good jokes, abhor verbosity, act on instinct, admit error when instinct stinks, sharpen
their teeth, their tongue, and their verbal reciprocity skills

in case,

life becomes interminable intermittently intolerable when other creatures impose, flagellate, pontificate, render the impossible as quite likely, reveal things I wish I never heard, detail the details of the inexplicably intricate uninteresting with prodigious force, and an unlimited absence of periods, commas, or breaths taken,

and escape
impossible for some meetings require good manners, first dates the remote but not trivial possibility that a false start has or can occur,
(see The Pleated Skirt poem) and the incidence of really good books in very poorly designed book covers…ditto the men variety of same!

Dial tone.

Cell phone or land land telephonic

Ring a ding / fax machine singing

Digital data lines

Most during this time of the day

Lagging behind just enough hours

To have them at dinner

Tucking in the kids

Most during this time of mine

Pacific western sunsets

Around six ish

"It's not a good time"

Most declare, if they dared pick up

But 8 out of over a hundred calls

Succeed

The rest are answering machines

Hanging up

My computer's got your number

Disconnected no longer in use

Learn by repetition

"Can you spare any time?

To answer some questions"

Customer satisfactions

Answering machines never had

The answers for this survey

In front of me

I recite verbatim

To fill the quota

Just need one every thirty

Or oneself to

"Feel"

Opinions opinionate

"Leave something brief after the beep..."

Hello can you hear me?

Are you complete?

Firm, feisty, and for real.
Black women matter and many aware of this.
Vocally opinionate.

Able to adjust, adapt, and survive history support this fact all the way down the line.

To a child black mothers matter.
To their significant black women matter.
To their employer black women matter.

There nothing like a black mother

Don't say I change?
When this is me?
Opinionate-this is me.
Loving-this is me.
Caring-This is me.

Don't offer your suggestion?
To make me into your idea type.
When you knew full and well from the beginning?
This is me.

Why do others know me better than you?
Or have to been holding onto hope to see something different.
When this is me?

Willing to help anyone-this is me.
Willing to go the distance-this is me.
Even go places that I rather no be.
Please realize before you stand the truth.

So when others cry pretense?
And I come back with that phase.
Tell them-this is me.
Or that just him.

Don't be too direct.
Even on hello poetry they try to block.
But poetry are opinionate expression.

So leaves a powerful impression.

Some in our lives get offended.
All because you gave an opinion.