The walls screamed poetry disease & ***
an inner whine like a mad machine -
dropped in a
cave of roaches
or rodents

The Computer
faces of the men

The wall collage
reading matter

The Traders (dealers)
~~~

I am a guide to the labyrinth
Come & see me
in the green hotel
Rm. 32
I will be there after 9:30 p.m.

I will show you the girl of the ghetto
I will show you the burning well
I will show you strange people
haunted, beast-like, on the
verge of evolution

-Fear The Lords who are
secret among us
~~~

Leaving the phone-booth, I was
Struck by a whiff of
the weird.
Insane old country woman
come to nag the haunts
of town
Hairy legs w/open sores.

From what swamp or under-rock
did you crawl to remind
us what we choose
to leave

Jee aur aieee k sadme k mare ** jte h anjne anokhe unvrsts k hawale,nya clg nya jgh nye dost sb kch hta h nw nw,clg k strtng s hr ksi k dil m hta h rgng ka dar....2nd yr m cnr bnne ka hta h sbko gurur,frnds kai grp m bat jte h,hr koi dkhte h nye luks m,3rd yr m sbko ati h apni jimedari ka ahsas aur fnl yr ata h dston m fasle bdhte h...rah dkhe the is din k kbse,age k sapne saja rkhe the njane kbse,sb bde utavle the yhn se jne ko,zndgi ko dusre trke se dkhne ko....pr njane aj dil m kch aur he ata h,piche ja k waqt ko rok k apne andr sare lmhe ko samet lne ka jee krta h....at d strtng f btech kha krte the bdi muskil s y 4 sal bitenge lkn kse pta tha y sb chd k jne ka mn ni krga...na vulne wali kch yadein reh *** o yadein jo ab jine ka sahara bn ***...na jne aj q un palon k yad bht ati h jin baton ko lekar tab rote the ,aj un palon ko yad kar bht hsi ati h....y sch k ankhein nam ** jte h k mri tang ab kn kncha krga,m apne bton s kska sar khaungi,pranks ksk 7 krngi,ab mjhe kn itna jhlga,ksk smne ntnki krngi,jin dst p lakh kurban whn 1 rupye k ly  kn ldhnge,kaun rat vr bina soye bt krga,kaun bina pche 1 dusre ka chj istml krga,kaun nya nm rkhga,bina ksi bt k m ab ksse ldhungi,bina ks tpc k fal2 bt kn krga,bkws q kn krga,xam k ek din phle o tyri o rate,kn rat var 7 jag kr pdhga,kn fail hne p dilasa dlyga,y hasin pal ab ksk 7 jiungi....yad ati h o rec k choti si cntn bar bar jhn kch v ni mlta mre yar fr v na jane q hum gye hnge so bar...tum jse kmine dost khn mlnge jo khai m v dhaka de ayen sale srs mtr ko v joke m cnvrt kr de,par fr tmhe bachane khud v kud jye....mre hrkton se nakhro se jid s prsan kn hga ,ksk 7 brng lctrs jhlngi..bina mtlb k ksko v dkh kr pglon k trh hsna,na jne y fr kb hga....ky hm y sb fr krpaenge....bdy clbrt,ek h rm p bth k 1 dusre s wtsap p bt krna...rat k 3-4 bje khna pkana....bina ksi mtlb k rat ko chilana....mlk pina...pgl jse hrkt krna..mlk ghumna....kaun mjhe apni kabiliat pr vrosa aur jyda hawa m udne pr zamin p lyga....mre khusi m sch m khus kn hga,mre gam m mjhse jyda dukhi kn hga....keh do doston y dubara kb hga....dil m ek kasak hoti h jb hr ankhein nam hti h,fir mlne k wade se hm ek dusre se juda hte h,kv na akle rhne wle dost bas yadon k sahare zndgi bitate h....lkn jb v y clg k din yad ate h ankhon m hasin aur ansu ek 7 late h...engnr bnne k khusi v ansu rok na pai ,q k njr aa rai t doston s judai...ab jo hna tha o ** gya akhir m sbse juda ** h gye....aj v un palon ko yad kr k ansun rok ni pte h ....nkl he jte h...aur yuhi lkh lkh k apko pka rai hn....char sal yu he gye hmri beet..ab khn mlnge wo dost wo mit...dua krt hn sb k ly race y zndgi k jao tm jit....

I can always hear them in there laughing,talking,living.
There must be
3 of them living in that
Small studio apartment.
Their room always smells of
Incense, pizza,marijuana.
I've seen them in the halls
19 year old latinas.
And where should my love belong now?
It is much too dangerous
For a man of 24 to have read
Sartre,Celine,Hamsun.
Ya know,
I often fantasize
About 35 year old women.
Although I have met a lot of
35 year old women
That don't know
****.
Where should my love belong?
Probably exactly where it is now.
But I hope
Not.

I went out and all I can do is think of her
Talked to a good friend she told me dont worry love with find you stop looking
I got lost in her eyes and lips told her who I use to be. I get tempted to fall into bad habits but I cant and wont go back. We shared our experiences I had more to say because im older. Im thankful she listened and didnt see me differently.
I didnt fo anything wrong I had nothing but good intensions. Ive been good not sure how to explore the world of relationships it just hurts me and I hurt girls unintentionally.
I miss my old life but know im meant to change be and do better not sure what though.
Im one who is constantly thinking of all the possibilities. I need a job I enjoy I dislike ppl that make my **** job worse then it already is.

The desolate terrain
Of yellowing book paper that was once pristine
Of blood, sweat, tears, and innumerable cups of coffee
Is sad and lonely.

Yet I can only hope
That I will be enough
To stay here.

Truth, they are all dusty.
But they are the best.

I have done it again
I want to tear at my skin
I want to feel clean again
It coats my skin like dried nightmare induced sweat
yearning, reaching and shimmering
just out of my reach
It is a mirage
A trick on my mind
that sends all rational
out of the gaping, broken window
the shame-inducing sensation
fill my lungs with concrete
a frozen breath
unable to escape
the pain is a sharp distraction
acting as a reminder every time my sleeve brushes against it
I need help

I hear the world is full of pain,
Flooding, terror, acid rain;
Music, theatre, laughs and art,
Whiskey, coffee, beer and darts,

Rainbows, glaciers, hiking trails;
Rare Pepes and EPIC FAILs,
Overwatch and Pokemon Go;
Donald Trump and Bernie Bros;

Dreams, and Drugs, and Rock n' Roll,
Dharma, Love, and the eternal soul,
The Holy Quran and the Higgs boson
Tajwid in Geneva, QFT in Tehran.

Yet day by day I sit and type
Edit, grep, compile, pipe
All  that a system smoothly might run
Ashes to Ashes, Zero to One

'''
npm install; grunt &; restart nginx
docker run -d me/interests; pkill sleep; pkill ***
nice 14 nutrition; rm /etc/cron.daily/exercise
pkill -STOP judgment; scp foodler:'**/{burger,fries}' ~
'''

It's rather ironic that this metal you see,
Seems quite a better multitasker than me
Whereas It stops its world to switch one task for others
My open descriptors always overflow my buffers

Whereas it take new patches with a simple 'apt-get'
My resolve for upgrades I quite often forget
And when its health checks fail, we regrow the ASG
But my self won't reboot. et memento mori.

You're cute
and you're beautiful, and while these may be mere words, they are true.

I want to hold you and squeeze you and kiss you forever. My favorite place is wrapped in your arms and my favorite plant is the one you gave to me and my favorite kisses are the ones you give me and I'm not sure why I'm saying this. Maybe it's because I haven't today, or maybe it's because I'm aware that I have an audience. I know you'll read it and I know Kota will read it and Liam will read it and so will Chloe and so will strangers in Florida and strangers across seas.

I want someone I've never met halfway across the globe to know how much you mean to me and how sweet your kisses taste.

Handbags
She adores designers labeled handbags
Lavished herself in Paris, New York, London
Approximately millions in RM
She had handbags
Louis Vutton, Paris Hilton, Channel etc etc…
Just name them…
Close to 3 thousands I guess
some she bought
some were given
Certainly Not ordinary people
Like you or me
Can afford to buy…

Some years on
All collection are still kept
Collecting dust in the closet
now the only
use for them
is to be stored
away to rot

why were they
not sold?
Imagine the lucrative profits
Can feed millions of poor kids
Send them to school
Make them learn ABC instead
Just another example
of how poverty
is shortchanged
by greedy elitist minority

Lavinia were you walking in the park?
Arm in arm with that pompous chanticleer
Singing in your sweet ear, a Sonneteer
Tongue-teasing rhymes told by that knave Petrach
Your ice blue eyes bright lit by sudden spark
Even blushes on your soft cheek appear
As if you found his every word sincere
Repeated in his carriage after dark

Master of dark magic hidden in verse
Your velvet rose virtue is your treasure
Lock it away from enticing word
On that vile poet will I set a curse
Venus come down and thwart all his pleasure
E**specially, I beg his days be numbered.

Hippie van, pew pew pew
In the shed, bonnnnnggggg
In the garage, dance contest
Just a few memories of you, which will now never be forgotten, now that you are gone

I parked the car in downtown
San Pedro
I stood in the rain outside the
Cabrillo Hotel
The people looked awful
Battered
There was a homeless punk woman
With face tattoos
Staring at me from her dry corner
A 50 year old woman spilled from the bar to the street
She reeked of wine
"*******! Some ******* dropped me off here and left! Can you give me a ride? That *******! My husband's a doctor ******! My son goes to UCLA! Can you give me a ride?"
She reeked of ****
A small ***** old man sat on the bar
Steps
Smoking Buglers
He shook his head at me
"Don't do it son, she's outta her mind."
The landlord finally came down
Showed me Rm. 101
It was a 30x25 space
With a mini fridge, closet, the mirror
A sink to **** in
The landlord said "You can see the downtown from the window."
I looked out
A trash can in an alley.
I just kept thinking about
Fante's Ask the Dust,Dreams from Bunker Hill
Bukowski's poem How to be a Great Writer
I hoped they were right
"I'll take it."
The first night the couple next door
Had a fist fight
And a fat cockroach crawled up my back in bed
The drunks ran up and down the halls at 3AM
I was not happy
But Rm 101 toughened me up
Very well
It became my oasis in hell
I have everything I need
Coffee maker, air mattress, radio
Beers in the fridge, big stack of books, most importantly
A place to get away
From the madness of the people
And when I finally get out of this
*******
I think I might miss it

when the tree bark snags my winter coat
and tall light posts flicker coded pleas “come
home, come home”
a police cruiser surges onto the curb
lumbering tires spit loose gravel and leaves
“JUST DON’T FREEZE”
megaphone boom from a crack
in the door, ka-chunk a boy proves
he belongs to these bricks
with a clever piece of plastic
clutched in fingers of leather gloves
squeaking tight against the
heavy metal door handle, heavy
boots tramping snow from the soles
my head pinned to the earth by a half-globe
of knotted tree branches and scarred trunk
(KJ + DL, fuckGETpussy, rm 122 4 ****)
clawing me back for old obscenities
i wish my crossed legs under this cold-smoothed
picnic table could stop knocking to the beat
of the third floor’s 3am rave, knocking to
come home
ka-chunk, you belong to these bricks.

We started off as colleagues
At that time, working from home was something
That was almost unheard of
Yet, we met only once or twice
In an entire month
Because you stayed really far away
Moreover, you had a family to run
We'll come back to that later
Anyway, when we met for the first time
I found you to be warm and friendly
And I said to myself
"Here's someone I can trust
Without a second thought"
I also loved your dedication to work
However, it wasn't as though you were a workaholic
On the other hand, you were quite lively
And ensured that our spirits were high
Even when there was a lot of work to be done
As I had mentioned earlier
You had to take care of work
And manage your family
At the same time
A daunting task, without an iota of doubt
Especially when there are kids involved
As well as in-laws!!
However, the way you handled the pressure
You almost made it look easy
Though the reality was vastly different
Moreover, we had some great times
I remember one occasion in particular
When we had a team lunch at Canto
The pizza we ate was extremely delicious
And full of veggies as well
Another thing that is impossible to forget
As far as that day was concerned
Was the fact that it just kept on raining!!
It was really good that you left early
Because it took me three hours to reach home!!!
I always enjoyed working with you
Because you somehow managed to find a way
To keep boredom and stress at bay
Especially that RM-Wealth mandate
On which we both struggled like anything
But you ultimately managed to close it
Hats off to your dedication, patience and perseverance
Then the pandemic struck
While I was dealing with work pressure
As well as the cloud of uncertainty
That hung over my indefinitely postponed marriage
Your words of wisdom helped me stay afloat
In those troubled waters
Meanwhile, you took a sabbatical
Thus, I missed you at work
But felt relieved for you
Since you finally got the break you deserved
After working so hard, for so long
Nevertheless, I was glad when you returned to work
Because you are not just a colleague
But a really good friend of mine
Of course, we haven't met in the last three years
Since you've permanently shifted to Udaipur
However, a friendship with such a strong foundation
As ours is built on
Does not require proximity in order to survive
Coming back to work
Just about a month ago
We were working on a huge research project
Which was extremely challenging and stressful
Yet again, you were a source of comfort for me
And ensured that I was able to keep my wits about me
And complete my work on time
Without letting pressure get the better of me
Moreover, at the same time, you did a great job yourself
Once again, hats off to your dedication, patience and perseverance
Just be the way you are
Because you are a friend to treasure

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
Two pillows underneath your blanket
of soft brown hair.
Your hair is what I admired
most of you.
The way it would waterfall
about your frame,
silhouetting your features in
chocolate cascades.

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
With your newest RM Drake,
and his short sweet eurekas.
You loved to read him aloud to me.
You would smile slightly in a
smile saved for when you
read one that particularly
struck you the way that
only good literature can.

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
Even though you never could
stomach what I read.
And I would get angry
because of the world's that
I wanted to show you
but knew that I couldn't.
You never shook hands with
Hem or Buk the way I wished
and wished that you would.
Sometimes your reading
was more honest.
Sometimes your emotion
was more true.

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
I would sit across from you,
analyze and seek to
emulate every word
while you would read
and only feel it,
in a way I never could.

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
Now that I have lost you
it helps me to do it.
I still have the word and
I still have books and the
world's I was left to travel alone

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
I only hope one day
you may read this and
smile slightly in that way
that only you do.

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Asterisks
because the search engines
and social media software algorithms
block out anything containing the ******* keyword
because god forbid we have some safe place
to talk about it
share our scars
joke around
wallow
ask for advice about how to
best debride
necrotic tissue
without furthering the infection
without being preached to
or told that
it gets better.

Because we can't go to doctors
and we can't go to friends
or family
or anyone.

And because people who have never done it before
or maybe once or twice in high school
with those banal ******* symbolic wrist tattoos
ask us just the stupidest questions
and tell us that we shouldn't display
our scars out in public
because they might trigger some hypothetical person.

My addiction is not a keyword.
My body is not a trigger warning.

****.
****.
****.
*******.

But why did you let her to the torture?
You allowed the queen to have fourteen bruises
To be stabbed forty times, by the butcher
Is it for her love towards You, Master
That she had to pay the price to a traitor?
The saint who loved You and was alone
Did You walk with her along the pasture?
Why did You let her to be killed and thrown?
Is humiliation Your divine crown?

But when the lonely saint's body mangled,
Could You hold her live soul, as You promised?
Holding did You stand by her side enthralled?
To welcome and hold her hand to be kissed
Or did You leave her alone in the wild?
As her life blood oozed out to the road side
As humanity ran away cold and chilled
Leaving her body numbed to lifeless fold
Did you stand to honor her faith profound?

Who that sent her alone, is responsible?
Am I not liable to give a reply
Being a part of His tabernacle?
All saints are lonely, even as they die
Is it the pay, the price of staunch disciple?
Yes people run away from those who cry
Even the best comrades are changeable
In times of prosperity swarm like flies
In hardship time they run away like mice

Was it an omen that the bus got cancelled
Cancelled the trip to scheme the ritual ****
Near the Snehasadan convent she smelled
The plotting to end her at Nachanbore Hill
For cold blooded slaughter a seat will be held
The bus named Kapil decked as a hearse
The murderers three had venomous blade
Broke a coconut and teased her to rehearse
The ****** with multiple maims with curse

If she were like a lamb of meekness
The sacrifice would have ended in one stroke
But she was brave, like a lone lioness,
Like David she was in a woman's cloak
Being a nun of virtuous righteousness
The devil had to inflict forty knife wounds
Fourteen bruises to shut her call to Jesus
She definitely fought like lioness

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me
He anointed me to preach the Good News"
Wasn't she following Your decree
Proclaiming  release to the debt ridden natives
Giving of sight to tribal community
Setting at liberty those oppressed captives,
Proclaiming the acceptable year of thee?
Does the path of sainthood cost such hefty fee?

But lord You promised even the good thief
Entry to join You in heaven the same day
Then how much You would care for her belief
Who talked Your words in life and walked Your way
Suffered fourteen bruise and forty wounds of knife
How happily You would usher her way
Having taken her among the Blessed Saints
To pay layman's thanks and prayers to say
On earth too she inspires those who admire
And want to follow You Jesus our Savior

i have absolutely no idea why this world is built
upon the stagnation that good
is equated with being stupid,
and that evil is prime intelligence...
or primarily so.
take the retards away,
and what you're left with
is what democracy challenges....
democracy is a kind of politics
that allows for crimes to prosper...
take Jimmie as an example
a belief in strength is not a belief
bound to rebellion...
democracy breeds a faith in rebellion
and the distribution of injustices,
where everyone can suddenly
exclaim: NOT MY FAULT! hands
raised flapping, the innocence plea...
the dodo's: i shouldn't be dead,
but i am, nonetheless, here i out-flap
the attempts of pigs at flight!
so too the chickens croaked,
and didn't coo like pigeons;
so too the Krev Ørn:
na ma hyrna jar! ska hurn sad nah!
and then death followed -
hi sfaldnjier ga'rm!                  d + n + j = ð
                           dneerie... or ~, or quasi....
or nearer -     knee earned ear -
harpoon tagline ooze!
knock knock. who's there?
onomatopoeia. onomatopoeia who?
echo! echo! echo!
                 so spoke the chastised pigeons
when hearing the morose croaks of crows.

Ma has a new
Saying
When I drive down to visit.
I sit in her kitchen
And she says
"I didn't know what I was doing. I just wish
That I had been
a better mother."
I wonder if it
Is my face
Or what I came to be
That makes her
Think about that.
"Well...its tough out there, you did your best ma..."
She forces a smile
Then looks down at the tile.
I drive back home
Doing 65 in a 35 zone
Blasting Hank Williams
While all my fellow
Mexicans
Frown at me
From their
Car windows.
I walk into
RM. 101
Crack open a pint
Inhale
Stare down at the tile
Sigh.
Someday
I'll be
Somethin
Ma.

wanted:
Rm w/ a Vu
of U

Tw: Self H*rm

I double guess myself, when you’re not around.

I need your voice to fall asleep, because of a secret you gave my soul to keep.

I hear her say “I don’t want to play that game”. The sound of her cries bring me back to mine.

The scars you’ve caused, will go deeper than her skin, reminding her that abusers always win.

Maybe she’ll turn out fine, or maybe she’ll continue the line.

Like an artist going mad from their own work. Never seeing something beautiful enough, so deeper she goes.

Another cut, another cut

They do say beauty comes from within, don’t they?

Ngayong Nandito Kana

Ilang beses nang nag-mahal
at ilang beses nang nasaktan at umiyak
ngunit patuloy na lumalaban sa sakit na pinag daanan kapalit ng kasiyahan

Ang dami kong piniling mahalin
ngunit ako lang ang nagka-mali
hindi maipaliwanag ang sakit na
aking pinag daanan sa mga taong
ginusto kong mahalin

Ngunit "NGAYONG NANDITO KANA"
hindi maipaliwanag ang saya na
aking nadarama
hindi maipaliwanag yung
saya na meron kana

Ang sarap pala ng ganito
ang sarap ipag-malaki
ang sarap mahalin nung taong
mahal ka den
yung saya na ayaw mona matapos
yung pag-mamahal na ngayon
mo lang naramdaman
yung ngiti na kailan man hindi mo
naramdaman sa mga taong minahal mo

Nag bago ang mundo ng mapasayo
nawala lahat ng takot ko
nawala yung pangamba ko na baka
isang araw iwanan mo din ako
nag bago ang ikot ng mundo
yung sakit na naramdaman ko
yung mga luha na pumatak mula
sa mga mata ko

Napalitan lahat ng saya at ngiti
eto yung pangarap kona ngayon
ay nangyayare na

Laking pasasalamat mula sa
may kapal dahil NGAYON NANDITO KANA
salamat din sayo at ako ay minahal at
pinag malaki mo.

rm: Handog ko ang poetry na ito mula sa mga taong ilang beses nang nag-mahal at paulit ulit na nasasaktan. Hope you like this. 😊