for Angelique, who found it (at) last,
and who, loved it best
--------------------------------------------


first, I read,
thus educated,
became addicted to
the musicality of word~notes,
enamored with
the artistry of
singing language,
the power to
lift, imagine,
evoke, touch
your skin,
so far away, yet
mine thru smoke,
scribed, now
mine to stroke.

explore, uncover,
the secret interiors of
what was placed
inside of
each of us,
at inception,
without exception.

the keys,
the word picks to
unlock the freedom
to be fearful,
yet courageous.

we, start, all of us,
at the same
starting line,
we, all feel
we, all believe in
the primacy,
the rightness of
I.

but then, one must
began to
observe others.
crossed over the boundary
of mine own
preemptive prepositions,
superseded the need to be
superman,
saw different truths
in the eyes
of others.

listened to the soul songs
of the R&B; breezes of
scented strange,
coming to open
ears, nostrils,
eager to learn how
wind chimes sound in
Nepal, Berlin and the Florida Keys.

standing up, stopped lying,
both up and down,
committed to be
uncommitted to the unjust
accursed ego,
rejected the sophistry of
solipsism.

then changed directions.

went back inside
to relish the passion of
pleasure of both
affection and hatred,
receptors on wavelengths
that varied, in sine,
in in side in in the
co of mr. me.

that the only way out,
to responsively accept,
that to close
the distances within,
to realize real synapses
of words,
there was only
the pathway of
the existence of
outward bound.

kindness, warmth
and generosity,
or
cruelty, inhumanity,
utmost selfishness.

needed to choose.

made my-choices.

thus provisioned and endowed,
voyaged to a place
where there was
no cover, no excuses,
only mirrors that exposed
what lay neath every artifice
conjured up by man to
mislead, deceive, and obfuscate.

There, this place,
where I was
neither the smartest,
bravest, saddest, or wisest,
I sat down and said,
said out loud
words directed to
give yourself away,
myself and anyone
who cared to listen:

”my tongue and my eyes are
one and the same,
my fingertips and my voice,
interchangeable,
my combination of words,
special even if not original,
they are as original to me
as the first prior writer and
the next,
who will create them
anew one more tme,
after he, like me,
leaned to
write them effortlessly,
and to
give yourself away...”


with out fear,
I selected a single word,
a solitary glance,
saw the poetry of an
open window's enchantment,
a head lifted momentarily
from a pillow,
then struggled mightily,  
wept for days with no
verbiage to effect,
make visions entrancing,
no skills,
butterfly net
to capture
the magic of
your loving
my signs.

disgusted by mine,
mine mediocrity,
with the greatest
of effort,
mine,
yet, yielded no results

except scraps of phrases,
that I retrieved
from crumpled sheets
that decorated the
wasteland of my first efforts.

took those phrases,
ran them over my tongue,
over and over again,
intrigued by
their lily lilt,
their unity,
the sensuous pleasure they gave.

how one word
coupled a tune,
the notes of this
new contiguous,
contagious alphabet
rang truer than most,
and moreover,
led me to another that
somehow phrased forward,
sallied forth in rhyme,
like those wind chimes,
now making perfect sense
with the one that followed,
from varied places
so distanced, but now one,
and a couplet was born.

of what did I write?
of what I knew.

no complexity,
nor trickery employed,

no matter that plain words
are my ordinary tools,
with them I scribed
the small,
the little,
what I saw.

grabbed the middle,
held onto the
gravity of the center.

simplicity my golden rule.
write they say,
about what you know best.

rely on and in the
diurnal motions,
the arc of
daily commotions,
in which
do we not all excel?

this poem flew
off my fingers,
twenty, thirty,
maybe sixty minutes,
in the skies above
these United States
of mine,
on American Airlines.

one of my
chiefest blessings
that luck threw onto
my punched ticket,
being born here.

was it effortless?

If you sat beside me,
what would u have seen?

flying fingers urgent unbidden,
neither struggling nor stopping
for the chimes were mine,
once I heard the first verse.
but first ringing was give
unto me by a reimer,
asking how,
I write so effortlessly?

the question innocuous sorta and
sorta knot,
a challenge to
my poetic essence.

I looked inward,
to look outward,
started where
all poems start,
in the quiet places
where you and
I think and thought.

unsure of the answer,
began to begin,
sing and sin,
my fingers,
simple secretaries,
transcribing lyrics
that those
selfsame wind chimes
tuned me up,
turned me on
simple thoughts,
simpler truths
herein recorded and
sworn before you,
most writ on this day that
the Americas have chosen
to recall another kind of
explorer, Columbus.

explore, explore
and then again
explore s'mores.
no matter if it is
covered ground,
covered it once more,
till you see that land
differently, colored so
no one has ever seen
them quite your way.

be an ocean pacific,
that cannot be pacified.

relish the chance,
relieve yourself
of that urge to burst,
put on paper,
gift to me and to
everyone else,
so someday,
we can say
together,
we saw *together,
through one
single set of eyes
upon a ship of
foolish words,
a real child born
in a mind!

new places re-discovered,
yet now storied stored,
living in our
Siamese chests,
to forever keep.

PostScript:

"With or without you,
I can't live,
And you give yourself away,
And you give yourself away....
Only to be with you,
But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for..."
U2.

Just now,

I sat at the piano.



I think I have forgotten

that the bench has been warmed up by so long a sitting

that the keys have been stroked with gentility and aggressiveness responsively

and that the strings have been telling the unsaid.



My brunette piano,

please stay loyal to me.

what stefan zweig mentioned -
of the 19th century’s inability of being
fond of its youth including robespierre responsively
in the revision invoking the polar dialectics of reconsideration -
i too can claim of similar recount
from the 21st century a fated twinning -
even though i lived in the last years of the twentieth
i allow myself very crude comparisons
to ease ageing.
sure stefan knew a thing or two about hölderlin
in the descriptive localisation, given that hölderlin:
being of those disfavoured remnants of engagement with eugenics
revived very little hope of a bored aristocracy, so that
nietzsche came along and militarised the priesthood
leaving the pope on a pulpit of celebrity power
in a pyramid scheme of posing queues kissing the foreheads of babies
with duran duran in the background shooting the video: toddlers on film.
but that’s how it all appears,
that the 21st century lost the care for the cares of the young
and gave them unto the gnashing teeth of the psychiatric
machine, diagnosing them too early with too much so that
when the poetic version of don mc’lean’s american pie
came with the opening: a long long time ago,
how that music used to make me smile,
and i knew that if i had my chance... but something
touched me deep inside the day the poetry died - it
was simply vowels in refrigerators and consonants in d.j. uplifts
for the aura of a monetary capitalistic saturday
of neons contorting mascara into afterglow of the oomph oomph
sick ‘em slick ‘em drumkit snare galoshes in puddles in electronic repeat on the dancefloor, added with
boom boom baby celluloid - flowers in hula hoops of disco sound  
and aversions with b & w western depictions of lassoed bulls convened
to remember corrida de toros (no one lassos an animal one milks) -
by then it really just turned into very apathetic mandarin on the count of two billion and the six billion english accents with the martians included in the 3 : 1 fraction, as if it was supposed to be
the final stance of the crucified & crucifying iconoclasts resolved
like with the neanderthals.
what we need... what we need... is a little bit of horror!
imagine me, doing the cricket dance in cobwebs as: bone daddy -
although fatter and therefore funnier, like it was worth picking the boogies
as if counting bones before kissing a hopeless idealism entombed in your heart.

What they come from
runs through all of creation
inside and out their is no difference
that way...

So within we be
We see it is as outwardly

and or it is actually so responsively
and or again how it knows us back again...

As we breathe so too it follows like the Great Tantric Being...

For once twas Ganesha...

Elephant trying to ride a Mouse
'tis now but a Butterfly upon the Nose of a Bear!!!

Many inputs say Mondays are common,
but one input says this Monday is uncommon.
We are to be the judge of that.

This is the Monday when you appear,
as reader dear, ready to reason with ghosts
amusing each other with wishes doing pirouettes
as angels may be imagined doing on pinheads,
spinning, or kicking in chorus line choreography.

The elderly nobody imagines the scene,
and makes it seem a vision, something seen,
after the finest sieve - pulling pin wires

snipping whimseys, making mites for widows.

------------ The Government's about to change,
wanna bet, whose got money on whom,

leave the room… vacate the judgment hall,
we are all here, to judge me, last call
all the outs are in, all the ins are intimate,

and we have made all the seed we could,
in word and deed, and we chose to leave
the edges un mowed, so critters can live,

when we can understand our own words
and read other languages using them,
these words are as living things imagined,

said and known, at once, in Housie or Hindi

whatsoever we can envision and project,
we may elect to try to do, or we may do
using words alone,
we think as one
mind,
so now we is I, we is not royal,
we is eloheemishical. Us big good being.


Watcher what of the night?

----------------------
Two geriatic puppets duke it out
for the FOOTBALL
News is all reruns.
Making war for pay,
money makes it work,
gotta love it, gotta love it.

Any reason for killing for,
gotta love it, real deal love it,

steal from the rich to become
richer, Lord knows, war's reason,

come now, let us reason together,
let us cogitate clarity of conscience,
with science standing in for knowledge,
the whole truth, once told, whole knowing

all things working together with reason,
for those in the blooming gnosis realms,

where augmented intelligence forms
teams of knowing hidden reconnectors,
citizen band geeks in the olden days
breaker, breaker, let the learned agree,

we lived just in time to see it all work.

In older olden days…
Messages were carried, at current
stretch of the imagination speed, by slaves…

Writing letters was…
different, I suppose, or
propose, positionally different,
sup and pro posals posed as statu'es,
forms of former founders of the orderly
clusters of human compliance called nodes,
junctions and interchanges, whither all roads lead.

Edu-pre-gogy-ology **** bang,
mechanical thinking in the subconscience science
used auto responsively,
finger aiming quick **** experience, wired below
the will, deep down to predator macrophage stage,
running id scans on the ego accepting wedom hero role.

The sole survivor, from ten thousand stories repeated
trillions of times by now, exoterror faces esoterror,

children led to mindless aliegiance to the flag,
and to the given republican form
of labor management,

had the heros of history
had my tools, perhaps sense had been made easy,

but this is the future, tense
I have, for a modest sum, any course of andragogy,
mankind mind leading, post child mind pedagogy,
- repeat not in vain taking my name, say true
- memory for song is long as all that

among canine species, we see breeds.
among human species, we see types, types for tasks,
intuitive doers of certain things magnificently, once

often, relatively, often
in the process of time, unique tasks.
Ever canonical, global and beyond, true wow
Onesies
Single mortal lifespan tasks, centered self aware tasks,
rockstar, base baller, foot baller, tackle, center, guard,

sergeant major, permanent noncommissioned officer,
loyal to the letter, let us assume, a military mind,
holds all response react ready reading inclination
to check for polisemy snuck in under humor heresy,

whose spirit is stirred up when fans are frenzied,

where do the emotions go, after the connection
to the whole aspect of prowess in team leadership
leaves the bubble of we the fans, become me,
alone and unwilling to ever cry wolf again…
-que sera sera
my side won, my times done
being, as a man with no real job,

they pay me for surviving crazy,
that's how this magic pen is driven.

Of course, in the course of human events,
this stage of peace enough and time enough,
shelter enough and sustenance enough,

centering, any whole self requires more knowledge
than had been made plain using words
in agreemental treaty
form, easily entreated,
as wisdoms are,
so you know what the adverse position is, and why
or why not, good or no good, workable or not,
doable or not, whatsover we agree,

as touching anything,
in all the sense ever fit
to touch, the initiates recognosis
sense the essential lies all being judged
in your heart,
gentlest touch, truly superlative softest

Public heart, common stander at the anthem, hoo yah
rah and all, good citizen soldier ever ready, to imagine

your part in the billions of parts is perfect
for one task, Life given, your one deed,
who says? Fate from the exoterica available to boys,
and girls who seem allowed to mind wander, some how

reading children, book reading children, in homes with
gigabit wifi and
dads and moms and
grand parents who lived
through historical moments.
  
Selah, long breathers, long now,
times proof recollections written
on the tables of my prayer's heart,
I prayed for one of the kind that works
instant in prayer, ask and eventually, find.

The process of time, see, seems invisible.
Perfect, facere specifically just right to be you,
dude, man, joker, street wise desert gawker, you

lucky, you live in a world where words are animated,
via actual Starlinking thinking come to pass
in proces of time since I was
preschool, a kid, child from the escaped goat clan,
mindshapers begin at the ******, confusion,
is common enough for first borns, nobody knew,
really, you can imagine, the cravings,
but confusion is not disconnection,
and no disconnect to knowledge
becomes immortal hell zones.

oh, my god, why, and
then, an elderly man with mottled skin,
sun squint wrinkles around slit smiling eyes,
bemusing the unbeguiled
amused at his appearance, a'knowledges knowing

With a re-coknowing Nod, to the east,
we are so far from where stories start forming leaven,
we merely imagine many long unthinkable things,
habits lost in ritual performance, character act-or,

no need to change a thing, that guy, that person,
that could be me, I have done that same dumb thing,
or watched it done while doing nothing
time and again, get lost in genre and find myself
wondering in wonder land
wonder woman world  of my own
imaging, imagining
living words between us, intimate, most in, inest most
crowd of witnesses,
reading right minds left letters better left than right read
clunk chunk
encoded news from the superlative zone, grand canyons
filled with technical debris and useless superlatives
clicks from children who know what discern means
are subsiding,
slipping under the wave,
trending sense first your worth,
before you accept a bid for your attention,
if you know this line of reasoning, having been
this far
before, as a thought, forethought
-breathe knowing now more than ever
knowledge inside intimates attain
to thorough patient word
redemption and restoration to full
polisemy parallel -all el, par excellence, a we
awe
form. Wind shapes form of spirits, tried, true.

Mind thing first reading each letter,
finding the evolved pen much to my liking,
fluid forms meander, and sigh, and sometime,
puddle to ponder surface reflections,
seeing some wishing for simple,
while we all know we are a ways after simple

this is sub-limity. Lowest ever so far. Look around
nothing needs to be secret at the bottom of it all.

Mercy me, Mercy see,
She's the one who wrote responsively
Mercy please, the company teased
So I'll **** you all at once, don't plea.

You made me a slave, Mercy.
I made you each a grave, perfectly
In straight lines like Madeline,
I dropped the shovel, time to get inside.
Don't play me like a puppet,
String me a long and tell me to love it
Miss Mercy, you made your decision,
Kindly get in position so I can tell you
Exactly where to shove it.

Mercy see,
You and all the others will never break me
I don't fight harder, I fight smarter
I earned respect and then you ask to barter.
Don't bother, in response to your letter,
Keep your policies, I can do better.

Sincerely,
Yours.

dry hexagons sometimes pop

their honeyed cysts.

discarding paper mache masks,

cursedly cratered on forest trails.

to redraft the barbed crosshatching

of stingers.

huddled to the ****** warmth of

their queen, who winters responsively

to the name: Morta.

If I am to become the envy of the torch passed,
in my ability to want it .
(bare of implicating  its own abilities to influence me to do so)
-An objective of raw anticipated pride,
it's from atop pedestals cap that we glanced ,
    -False peddlers in stride-
down upon wandering weary
cavalierly.
We're peering into accommodating waters .
my hope is to keep it till the morrows destination is the end, in which i expect it to ride.

We,
(as wanters , want )
will be short in our fall
if evolution to a 'getters' 'getting' is to be at all.
(Be it, or not )
in our daily constitution,
but to be seen as a want is the' got'
even 'getters' fret after,
-with tooth and nail fought.
What you want is nice
but can all be bought .
Being desire
-weather in person
or thought -
'That 'is the breast
beaten rightly !
1/2 with the 1/2 is a man in regards held highly .

its not enough to revel in our memories
they are not the reasons feathers flare .
but to flare and convey the makers where 23 and 3
Variably
endlessly still no answers
have yet to spare.
caring for some that do not have
-in hand-
a contracted guarantee...
also
no reasons have they  
to create a purpose to respond to responsively,
Neither do they care
or look back After they've used your love against you
until hearts are broken so many times its become crooked and black.
just so that they are not alone in darkness when then look back...

Now my life is vast in detail
Let me start at the beginning being a story narrated in sail
Growing up I was told that I would fail
In fact being born I was quite frail
So the beginning of my life at birth being uncertain
For me inspiration was only a word having no definition
My life was hoping for precision
The only presence was my own voice
I had no choice
But my words were direct like preach
I guess there was influence I wanted to teach
As I grew older I began to understand
But now I was an Adult Man
Thinking responsively
Taking life serious honestly
As I said earlier, I told you I was to fail
But follow me in the next trail
I knew deep in my heart I wanted to achieve
It would be Higher Education that I would receive
So I enrolled in college in meeting my goals
Behold, I majored in Mass Communications from CUNY, and graduated with a 3.0 GPA
Sounds bad for others who wanted me to fail
Perhaps the whole theory people considered themselves less of themselves
I guess they wanted me to be like them
But inspiration rang in and ability within keep striving on
I wanted the best things in life
I wasn’t expecting sugar and spice
I just wanted my life to be peaceful and nice
As my Grandfather would often encourage, “Be a Commodity”
Well that’s truth in reality
So I am living life in what it should be
Salvation made it all possible and people do see
Yet it is my daily prayers between me and thee
Church is my regular outlet that God can help anyone overcome
I am glad I have Faith from within being the Lord’s among
So there’s my life cut and dry
You see I haven’t asked any questions as of why
But my Grandfather was right, “Just Try”
There’s my life in efforts in gain, and continued living that shall remain.

45 has done it again
It’s time after time
Thank god you are genuine
Merciful and kind
Lord I pray for the White House
The President needs your help
He doesn’t understand the world in situations being felt
The President needs to understand his own transgressions
The United States is in a total mess
The world sees and would confess
The GOP seems to be scare of 45
Yet they should be thankful that they are still alive
The Democrats are trying their best with thinking responsively
The Powers that be have no commitment
Responsibility seems to be over 45’s head
He rather function on his accord instead
Now the National Security Advisor has just been fired
Now whom will replace being hired
The Citizens of Bahamas had a Hurricane disaster
Lord, please help them survive
Water and Food is of short supply
Help the GOP and the Democrats in seeing eye to eye
The world is trying patiently in watching and waiting
But being patient is of a short fuse
45 needs an awakening of recuse
I also pray of an agenda in Gun Reform
Guns, Bullets and lives
Many have died while others will never be the same
45 is just plain lame
Please Lord, organize and rearrange
Let your intervention, so the world can remain sane
This I pray Oh Lord, Amen

She's gonna think I'm crazy
Crazy I may be

But I took the royal risk
She responsively?

So what is the interest in a bus?
Why do I emphasize being fuss?
Bus inspiration becoming a reality
It became a lifetime hobby responsively
It started when I was a tot
It wasn’t like it or not
The passing of a bus and exhaust the plus
Buses simply caught my eye
Even today, people still wonder why
It wasn’t just the ride
It wasn’t the comfort that buses provide
Being a tot, it wasn’t a place to hide
It was the structural design and wonder
Perhaps not necessarily in that order
It was total buses throughout
If you are not a bus fan, you don’t know what I am talking about
Buses must be in one’s heart
That’s where I got my actual start
Mine bus interest was the impact in seeing the Greyhound
That’s my enjoyment was found
This is my reason to believe
Now I am so relieved
Buses found me, and my commitment is what you see.