There is an immensity of life between us
in the cracks of the tar lining the streets of the new and the up and coming
in the cement foundations of  pieces of history torn down to make way for condos
in the luxury of the innocent
in the opulence of the well versed

(I was never brilliant or oblivious but I understood the weight of it still)
and still
there is life here
in the filthy river water we use to cleanse ourselves of modern day idealism
in the pedicured grass of the only wild space left in the city
in the eyes of the people who go unnoticed for years
in the hands of the business men devastating and deciding the price of our humanity
we swarm
we collect
we nest in this hive
we levitate and gravitate towards new heights and new highs
vowing to go up and over up and over until we revert back to the way we once were
nostalgia
a pretty word for dissatisfaction
tearing down walls only to romanticize their restriction ten years later
we build up to break down to reenforce what we already know
but yet there is a beyond
and yet still there is more
still there is life in the existential
still there in the thoughts between sleep and waking
still between the jump and the fall
still
and even still you take your forearm and run it along the curve of the earth surrounding this city
this coal eating monster washed with the dreams of a thousand drunkards looking for some other body to call home
and we call it home
with the austere buildings and mirror images reflecting bricks and soot
reflecting breath and sighs
reflecting life and death
and between it all
there is so much life
yes between us
there is an immensity of life.

fine Furhman's Funeral Home
used the best alchemy money could
buy, to keep her flesh fresh

and a master seamstress
sewed her wicked wounds so not
a single soul could see

she was stabbed forty times
from her rubicund cheeks to her
pedicured toes

Furhman's was the best, above
the mediocre rest, in gifting mourners
with a pleasant view

when I got their bill in the mail
it had an itemized list, which included
a charge I had to contest

not because of penury or pettiness
for I am a wealthy weeping father, but
I couldn't see spending a red dime

for crimson polish they painted
on dead toes, slid in slick hose, and
hid in patent leather shoes

my wife said write a check for the
full amount, crying this was not about
what we the living could yet see

Baton Rouge, April, 1989

A pure treasure since she was born,
Deserving to be delicately placed on velveteen pillows.
Looks like that are lusted after
Like line after line of ******* in an upscale bathroom.
But all the pretty girls are like that.

Their red lipstick and lacy lingerie,
Cocktail dresses and long legs.
Swift movements and carefully crafted bones.
They feel their beauty really sink in with a needle full of ******,
and a high that knocks them off their perfectly pedicured feet.
My God, they are so lucky.

All the pretty girls do drugs.
And all the pretty girls get high.
All the pretty girls smile and wave in their size zero glory.

I am a woman
But there's no need
For me
To roar

You can see
The very essence of me
As soon as my pedicured toes
Hit the floor

From the gloss on my lips
Down to my painted fingertips
You can see
That I am very much so
A woman

Not to mention
The glide in my walk
The femininity that flows from my lips
Whenever I talk

Take once glance at me
And you can surely see
That I am indeed
A woman

A woman at the height of ******
This is where the poem comes to a howl
suddenly, the poet hold his breath

He remembered a time long ago
When her well pedicured feet caught his eyes
and not her mind: that fetish duck..

She could have let him touch up her pedicure
Instead of playing with her heart strings

You understand the cycle of generational trauma, birthed from hurt to cause drama
You understand communication styles that dip their pedicured toes into ***** waters
You understand the impact of microaggression and discontentment

But you don't know what love is
The examples you had only you taught you how to be toxic
Birthed patterns within me that restrict me
Anxiety reaching new heights as we reach the peak

Sleeping with you closer to me in cause a sudden dream prompts you to leave
If you love something set it free but what if you don't return to me
Emptiness I would feel because I never knew what love was
Until it was too real and I let my fears dismantle what would've been soulmate love.

I want you but then I don't
I Love you but then I.......

Wont lie

I'll never stop loving you
Not even when I "stop" loving you

A garboil frenzy stirred up in me
From our first encounter
You shot my guarded with ten feet brick walls heart down
Exposed me to something new
The more nights I spent on the phone with you
The more my feelings grew

Don't let me physically see you
That's  a different story all on its own!
One deserving its own poem.
Hey, I'm just being honest
We're all grown!

But anyway
You've got me swaying to your beat with your harmonious words and graceful flow
Dazed and paralyzed from my curly haired head to my pedicured toes
With this infatuation for you

Wait nah, even though this is new
I know it's more then pash puppy love
This is real

We are real

No matter how many times I push away
My feelings will never budge, or stray.

We're not together yet and that's fine
Cause you don't know it yet
But you're already mine.

My days are focused with serving Jehovah with my whole heart and ability
The end of this system is coming fast
So i make sure to walk in the right path
Continuing to always please him in his eyes

But Jehovah knows my other inner desires
He knows how I want to share my days with a lifelong partner

Title me passion *****
Love burns my fire
We were built with abounding emotions
A longing to share our tender affections with another person
And I'm no different, almost ready for that serious commitment
To share my world with an outstanding christian witness

You fit that description..
So with his blessings my dream will come true
And with his blessings that person will
One day be you

Gold, silver, platinum,
Check off the little box
So you can
Find just the right thing,
That costs $50 or more.

I keep mentioning, as you keep moving closer in
On me, and my thoughts and my personal space,
"This isn't about me. It's not about me. I don't want to draw attention to myself."

And you say, over me,
"But look at this one!"

And you ogle over the shiny things
That I could give less of a **** about.
Because the real thing I'm excited for,
Is spending time with him.

I'm excited for being part of his life,
In this way,
In a way that kind of matters,
Because I want to be stand with him
And it makes me really happy,
And my heart all fluttery,
And my chest all warm
And I don't understand.
It's so corny.

I'm getting attached.
I knew I would.
But how could I not?
Maybe I always was.
Red strings of fate,
Well,
They're tricky little *******,
And will fool you for years.

So while you
Look at jewelry now for yourself on your phone,
I'll switch the ring you put in my cart
Out with one that I think suits the occasion
And him and I
Much better.

You'll think it's cute,
Whatever,
Blah blah blah
You won't get the sentimental value,
The fact that it will mean so much to me
If he smiles when he sees it.

But I guess that's the thing.
You had shiny things
And sparkly things
And green paper
For so long,
Much longer than I did.

I've learned to rather enjoy going without.
There isn't so much pressure.

And you say "It's not about our difference in tastes,"
Your tone implying that yours is still better,
"it's about looking classy and right for the occasion.
"It's not about your taste, it's about the occasion."

I start to see red,
And I go off for about six minutes,
A little longer than usual.
"How many times today have I said that this isn't about me?
"How many times today have I said that that's the reason I don't want to wear something like that?"

And I tried not to say it, but I did anyway.
"I'm not some type of ****. I don't use people. I refuse absolutely to give off that impression."

Because I know girls who do that,
And I know they wear things like that.
Extravagantly thin sparkly diamond strings lacing up their throats,
And rings the size of lollipops
Glittering their knuckles.
Manicured nails that could cut your face off,
Pedicured toes that could shank you in the stomach.
Hoops or chains glistening out of their punctured ears and tangling with long hair.
Purposefully too-tight too-short dresses to show too-much cleavage and sky-high heels that end in a point sharp enough to puncture your spinal column with ease.

I'm not supposed to look like some shiny barbie doll that's been weaponized.

If anything, if I got to choose, I'd want to look only vaguely threatening and positively ethereal and mostly gentle.

But then you go on and on and on
About manicures
And pedicures,
And I interrupt your rant on designs
For nails with
"Black."

"What?"

"Black or blue polish. Nothing else."

"You don't want to get fake nails--"

"Hell no."

"Extensio--"

"For my hair? **** that," Cue another sarcastic comment about weaponized barbie dolls.

This shouldn't be so stressful.
And I can feel myself crying,
And my breathing is a little shaky,
Because I don't think anyone understands
That I legitimately care about my Bluebird.
This isn't just about it being fun,
About time being fun with him,
About how easy talking to and being around him is.

It's about caring to the point of my chest hurting a little when I think something might be wrong.
It's about caring to that same point when he smiles, and being able to see it.

I know, I know.
Corny.

But still,
I've been so okay lately,
Yeah I've had a few bad days,
But he didn't run off when they happened,
And that means a lot.

Even writing this,
I'm tearing up a little.
I don't understand.
I know I shouldn't fight this feeling,
But I kind of think I might have to.
Just for a little while.

[Insert keyboard smash]
SDKLFJSADKLFJ
**** it, whatever.

Feelings are insane,
And they make me all choked up.

Unchristened,
I circle the sun
Clutching books of darkness.

Each page, a starless night,
A devil's duel for the soul.

An orphaned *****
Shackles my ****** thoughts
And to her drums
I beat.

Lust stomping feet
Of pleasure and song,
Of treasures sunk
Betwixt a finger and thumb.

I turn the page
Engaged,
I turn another
To find a willing centerfold.

Pedicured pink on toes
Flung high
In steel stilettos,
A feast for hungry eyes.

The mind grieves
Spilling guilt like leaves
Onto a passing cloud.

A boy
Perchance a girl
The world shall never know.

Like stars unborn,
They whisper
In the wind.

~ P
(#LeavesUponAPassingCloud)
6/7/2014

Unsightly is a word that the dictionary defines disgraceful or unpleasant to look at or in other words just plan ugly. When the one you love calls part of you unsightly. It can leave the deepest cut in your heart. I never really noticed the moles until he pointed them out. Now that's all I see when I look in the mirror, that's all I see when I take a shower. I even start to count them as time goes on...1..2...3..4..The more I count the louder I hear the word unsightly with every number I repeat it in my head 10...11..12... WHY WOULD THE MAN I LOVE call me a cleaned up word of ugly? I thought he was suppose to see every single part of me as beautiful from the tips of my un pedicured toes to the top of my un combed hair. And with a smile he was suppose to say you are so beautiful. "I didn't mean it like that" he says. "I thought you wanted to get them removed" he would utter. Every time he would try to back peddle on the word he spoke to me the knife would dig deeper. NO you want me to get them removed because they make you uncomfortable. You wanted me to get them removed because you hated to look at them. But don't worry about it anymore. This face, these eyes, this body, my smile, this skin, these moles. Is something you no longer have to feel uncomfortable looking at. I will find someone that will love every single blemish on my body and more then you ever did. But you did leave me thinking how could I love someone who's heart was so unsightly.

Who are you to judge that which doesn't concern you?
Are you trying trying to plant your pedicured feet in tattered sneakers
or is it a twisted satisfaction your mind eagerly propels through?
A desire so sickening of emotional magnitude, you might as well
use your dainty fingers to reopen a freshly sewed knife wound.
Oh, that's not what you "meant" to do? It's not I you have to tell.

Continue to play the innocent card, it's what you do best;
An Ace you can't seem to stress, giving protection like a bullet-proof vest,
whereas the downtrodden can't fathom to use their resources
to unleash a slugfest you oh so request.
Ultimately, it's an oppression of border-line obsession
that conveys a weakness infesting your malignant mind.

What audacity must you have to belittle those who are persecuted;
mistreated by society and suppressed by privileged voices.
You must truly be afraid of Outcasts if you require silence
for their songs and melodies seek inner harmony and bliss.
It is these traits that are a forgotten treasure in the eyes of the entitled,
for they'll dismiss and deny its existence since it actually requires hard work

We've been beaten and bruised, disappointed and disheartened,
but we as outcasts will continue to remain defiant to your sinister pestilence.
We have a fire in our hearts that burns the brightest amongst the darkest of skies,
and that is something your fragile heart will never be blessed with.

And I have seen paradise before
It was a heaven of ideological
proportions
located
on the junction
of childhood and interstates
of man and youth, with marble floors
and distant speakers echoing drops off of
cell phone booths
and older people
selling things for us to buy
to find ourselves happy in the moment
deep cascading waterfalls

Is this heaven?

When a child it's all you see
the white and pedicured purity
of a waxed granite floor,
the impersonal monotony
feeling a soul in a world unknown
the closest thing to dreaming
Old T.Vs selling like hotcakes
buy it while it's new!

Gameboy games, pokemon on the tele
silent in the face of some strange musician
playing unworded tunes you'll recognize later
their focus-grouped chords left somewhere in your mind
for you to hum when bored

Everything was perfect, then?
was it?

Those same malls don't sparkle
no more

maybe it's just the grime of life
blocking the mirrored measure of my childhood soul
lost amidst the echoes
the sweet music of truth
bouncing off of the uncolored walls
a send-off of my youth

Maybe when we go back, one day
the walls won't be quite so grey
they'll be power-washed with light,
shine better than ever before,
nothing to buy but our happiness
somewhere in those hallowed halls
searching those windows into other lives
hoping to find the key to our soul
to leave this silly Sphere and
Roebuck
our boat back out the sliding door
-windows
back out into the real world,
no longer dreaming.

Life is a series of experimentation
Tests based on multiple observations
Sometimes of the same thing
And yet I still have questions that still need to be answered
And there are no 4 options to choose from
And even if there were
The letters would have disappeared from how many times
I’ve shaded the circle
Just to erase it again
And sometimes I try to look for a quick summary
Just a simple short answer question
But there’s so many different variations
And none of them fit right
So I end up filling 3 sheets of paper
With just one answer
Just to get no credit
Because your teacher wanted you to
Summarize
What’s too much for you
To summarize

Once I think I’ve found a hypothesis
I receive some data feedback that
Doesn’t correlate
And so this idea
Of what this is
Of what love is
Of what life is
Can never be really answered
Like a webster’s dictionary entree
Or by anyone’s own experience
Because like time
It changes and grows

There was a story of a famous cobbler
Who was visited by a demon
And he was forced to make shoes for it
And when it came back for its shoes
It mutated between an elephant
A mouse
A man
A dog
I don’t know how to cobble the shoes that could fit
So many forms
From hooves
To talons
To perfect pedicured toes
That’s how love has always come into my life
And yet I have felt it so many times the same
Like a squeeze not on my heart
But my entire chest
But how do you cobble shoes
To fit so many feet
While staying the same

It’s like trying to explain why you hate something
To someone who has no idea
But you have that idea
Because of jealousy
Or something that happened
Maybe too long ago for you to
Really
Put words to it
But there’s that feeling in your stomach
And your brain is mashing the eject button
Whenever you have to be close
To this disgusting
Terrible
Ugly thing
That people would hate too
If they only knew
The feeling you
Just have

Until you
I didn’t have that missing link
And suddenly there are words in my mouth
To explain
The evolutionary changes in my mind
Of why
And not how

My Lucy
Knowing that you see the same sky above me
With me
Makes the stars diamonds
You are the reasoning as to why
I have love
Why I try to love
Why I live to try
To love
You are the clips in my brain
Constantly cycling through
The wrinkle of your jawline when you laugh
The way your shoulders bounce
The way you kissed me on new years

You kissed everyone else there
But I had to blame my sore stomach
Tying itself in knots
On the alcohol
But it was the butterflies
That you set a fire to
In my lower intestine
And they were crawling
Up my throat
Choking me
With their wings

And when you finally wanted me
As I watched you,
Wanted you
On the same warm rubber
Of the trampoline
In late spring

But the same rubber
Was cool
The night that I connected your lips to mine
And the look you gave me was
So confused
And distant
We were all so close
And the heat was radiated
Piled bodies pressed together
On top of us
Around us
And yet you managed to pull away

I wanted to break that distance
But that dark night was so bright
And so vivid
That in my mind
The look you had
Pulled away
Again
And again
And again
And in the yellow room where
Everything was so warm
And loving and hard
When it needed to be but
So soft
Recalling that time is
So hard
Because while the yellow is
So bright
It hurts
And photocopies into my brain
Like it was recorded over the same tape
That took in the image
Of you pulling away
The warm yellow
Cut
Again and again
By your face
Pulling away
Further and further
From mine

I cling to those warm images
Trying to think of just those warm images
Why can’t I just think of those warm images
The smell and feeling of you lingers
Like the heart beats I felt throughout my body
I think of you
And not just myself in your eyes
I don’t think of how sad I was
How much I wanted your attention
To validate me
Call me a person like Adam’s animals
Claimed with names like labels
That one has to live up to
I just wanted to experience
Your presence
And that yellow warmth
I just wanted to watch you
As a painter
As he would paint with such a tired, wise, skilled hand
And learn by just observing how you take in the world
And repeat it in your own imagery
Your own beautiful imagery

And I burn
When I think how people have seen this
And scrape at the surface of all you are
To present you dirt
Where tectonic plates should be moved
To give you the yellow sunshine beneath your feet
And swirl around your hair
Like a halo
Just to see how beautifully you reflect it
And when you came to me
With balloons twisted around your ankles
I wanted to hold you to the ground
And be your tethering rock to the world
I loved you too much to say the right words
To twist our fingers together into knots
And lock into place what we could be
So I turned away and let you be pulled back
A memory lost to gravity

To this day I can quote all of lilo and stitch
Or homeward bound
And still they sit on my shelf
Only to exist
When I chance a glance at their titles
And certain scenes come back
In vivid Technicolor
Playing in the back of my mind
And like someone had ****** with the tv’s color settings
Everything is just so
Yellow