All of the men I've met
Have wanted to know me
From the bottom up
They start at the toes
Treading lightly
Tipping towards in a dance
That is beginning to feel like ritual
After they pass the achiles
The speed increases
Only swiftly caressing
My cut out calves
It seems they think I might slice them
Then there are the thighs
Here they rest and gain reassurance
They burrow as if they will stay for winter
They start to cautiously creep towards
The cozy meeting place
And then they ******
Suddenly I am full
A capacity I have been yearning
A community event  I am hosting
The buzzing around, the coming
The, I'm coming
Then, the going.
All of the men I've met
Have only ever met me half way
They never nustle into my stomach
Or hustle and then halt inside my heart
They do not begin to beckon
All that is living in my brain
(Meaning all of me that is living)
They do not synchronize with my breathing
They do not braid their hair into mine
They leave me slick
They slide away in efforts i can't match
My muscles strain
They climb and reach a shallow peak
And then refrain
All of the men I've met
Well, they've left me feeling plain.

Contradiction drums
Waiting and listening
I hear mellow hums

A warm piece of cake
****** in taste

I’ve described one or two
Everyday  
More than twice
Up all night

Always forever
I will see  
Maybe in R.E.M
Maybe in my sleep
Some of them are shallow
Some of them are deep

Contradiction drums
Waiting and listening
I hear mellow hums

Millions and billions I see
Many of them in the distance
Knowing there will be
Never enough in existence

You want your pickled herring
you want de jure
you want all the caesar
sections
gobbled up
pure
and shallow
waters
drip
from bellies
to replace salt
to preserve
the children's minds
you eat
while you
transport them
to the other side
of your soulless
empire
with no objective
existence
in reality.

I

Honor from that of a fowl heart
Crimson and gold-silver bells shrill
Fools delight in drunken birth
Moonlit jasmine and sapphire glow
billowing pillars of smoke from towns below
Merry and gay is the festival-parade
from farther land come, beautiful delicate maids
Hustling steps to the garden square
gray stone now wet from decline of care

Marionettes sway with colorful strings of joy
Shakespearean theater a play of fools
making their toasts to crystal jewels
Chapels painted star of David so bright
yet they stray banished from glorious light
Catacombs shake, a hungry soul stirs
come now the widows of savage earth

Reflect, yes ponder upon shallow grave
a house with no sun, yet fierce is the shade
Piercing, Scorching the turn of the blade
laughter now fades on fools darkest day

                                II

For the singer of song, sings unlike that of the bird
Howling sheds tears, unpleasant-Forever heard
Outlasting that of the harp which David played
Increasing with time like a judgmental plague
If the halo shines bright, on but a few who wed
the blues played by all men who fear life then dead
Silver string and black is the heart
Heaven and creation so far-Far apart
take note of the artist-metronome of pain
Keeping the rhythm with Fools darkest day.

our cry of war;
peace
the streets, O, how they testify
accused of false prophecy.
but a people's truth
known best by
them who walk it.

weapons,
bluebird hashtags,
palm portals broadcast high definition.
hands of pacifism write a
play of sunken morals
a stage—the world
capturing heart;
caging it beside mind

no longer abiding forced compliance
to the dollar,
and the jester king's control
making mockery of the throne they sit—
unrighteous fools.
we refuse a subject's posture.

they deem a mask cowardice,
fickle and shallow understanding
an insult of fear.
a brotherhood of belief to represent—
uniformity
together
by rank and by file,
stalwart to stem the loss of blood;
against greed.
independence
from them—from one another,
from the cookie cutter's imposition
advertisement imprisonment

once thought killed
succeeding only, they
made his cause indefinite
made message
immortal.
forever grinning,
lips curled across porcelain visage

on asphalt battleground
a rose outstretched,
the bearer beaten with sticks
put in chains.
soaring cans noxious,
tears not their result,
but of sorrow
for them, and
their acceptance of bribe white picket, the
Judas price.

hypocritical perpetrators
betray hollow oath,
smashing split fingers
the unspoken message portrayed
outlasting beating's bruises
heftier and more distant in reach, than strike.
hands cut by thorn whilst seeking to tear down
rose
regretful tears of power's illusion
wash the ground
but freed of blood impossible.

power's impotence seen,
the world's future bearing witness to
false truth.
a promise greater
a seed planted
generations to grow, in time
shading all mankind
when children lead men,
the mask removed
unveiling equality in our difference

There ain’t nothing too bad
Too sad about it
I couldn’t figure you clearing my head
And I used to think I sounded slow
But now I think I sound shallow
Ya hear?
You here?
I keep hitting the brakes but the car isn’t slowing and the light is red, and I keep hitting the ******* brakes and I keep. hitting. the. *******. brakes. and I think “****! ****, sell it when I’m dead.”
And the police come
And you’ve been drinking
And the bag never looked better on me

there will be
only a shallow,

pleasured connection
til you learn
to tie the knots of my youth

into something new
and your own

or until,

you can teach me
to burn 'way the noose.


I found
on my own
with a struggle-pack demon

that the years never pass
with abuse,

so let's
'eye to eye'
with a love-wagered reason

and baggage all this kink

into use.

I bombard people with my deep emotions
It turns them off
Well excuse me
I didn't know you were the boss

You're too shallow for me anyway
Don't appreciate me?
I guess love is not your forte

I could think of a million and one ways to compliment you,

And every single one of them would be true.

I’ll start with your beautiful eyes,

For they are comparable to sunrise.

You have absolutely beautiful hair,

So beautiful, in fact, that the other girls don’t think it’s fair.

And your smile is so beautiful, I forget to take a breath,

Really, if it weren’t for you, I’d probably be lost in death.

I know that you say that you do not deserve me

As a friend, but really I am the one who is not worthy.

You say that you are shallow, but I disagree,

For you continue to be an incredible friend to me.

You say you are mean, well I am, too.

Some of the things I have done were exponentially cruel.

No matter what you do to me or what you say,

I will continue to love you everyday.

And I know you say that the world doesn’t care,

I guess I agree, that sounds fair.

But our Lord, Jesus Christ, does,

And that is more encouraging than anything else ever was.

Rope, tied and bound and held too close
The light is barely shining through the cracks
But we dance, because
This is all we know
And we love it. We love the closing air.
The sweet smell of our sweat
When it’s fusing together
I’m lost in this dependency.
You’re eyelids shutter while you sleep
I’m focused like a student
I’ve been taking notes in consciousness
The words guide my fingers to drum along to your heartbeat
Shallow breathing completes our symphony
Where was I before? Did my substance exist?
I am prone to believe we were born for this
For us,
for this warmth.
For everything THIS stands for.
And to be lost is to also be found
In a state of intoxication
My lips buzzed with the taste of your nightmares
We share them. Our protection.
For and from ourselves.
We are running
We are distracting
We are the essence of a pipe dream.
Defined and incandescent;
Beauty with no sympathy.
Love with no absolution.
Life with nothing beyond meaning.

Arise from autumn meadow
The days last thought
Of you who chose a path
Not measured or guided but sign less
And yet, you walk with purpose
Resting in unfamiliar territories
Aware of the incongruities of your route
And still, you had the vision
Earlier years were fraught with ambiguities
And muddy trails made for slippery ramblings
And then, you wrote a poem
Your heart found its medium; and soul, its pen
You write with depth in a shallow sea
How magnificent life is, when our path is clear
And the autumn meadow allows for one more thought

Yet I sit and ponder within a shallow light she that lovingly caused each lonely night. Internal commotion aside, reflecting on external emotions I hide—but let's not stand on principle here. I know what's easier to discover when lost, except that which I've found to be the most important. That frustrating thing that life's complications have cost. I know I cannot sit behind words, a silently debonair grin intended to swoon, especially considering you won't even see me soon. I'm just pent up love mixed with longing anger looking in no certain direction for the thing I want. And for the first time, I really think for the first time, I know what I want…how I hate the fact. Depressed and lonely is forgivable, but lonely and knowledgeable of what it is I've lacked? How embarrassing.

Regardless, I'll take a moment to contemplate and remember sun-lit fountains splashing frigid water on petite feet, clouds beckoning my mind, and vibrant gray orbs reading me naked. I'll knock on the sky and slip this note under the door—maybe you'll find it and know what it's for. I miss you, even before I was smart enough to lock you away in my memory…even before then, I think I missed you.

Lets not lie then;
you’re out there somewhere having a
fine & dandy time, a fish in shallow waters,
meanwhile I’m a shoe-in
for the biggest *******
this side of town and god and country.
And where the **** are you?
What the **** is your excuse?

I’m homeless without you and
I’m a degenerate when I’m with you,
and I’m ****** enough in this
sleepless state to see it’s not fair.
I can’t ******* swim out here…
You can fuss about me not being
next to you some nights, but
I don’t give a **** about
the *** we’re not having,
the touch you’re demanding,
so just shut down the charade.


And you don’t want to know
what’s * *wrong ** with me.


"I don’t give a ****.", yeah,
tattoo it on my lips and kiss them
till they bleed. Don’t care.
Maaaaaybe I’m too tired to think clearly,
but ******* right now I see so much
and it’s so petty and privileged and ******
and when you think you see the lines,
you can’t even see the light of day.
I’d know because it’s here right now.
I’d know because I lost the words to say,
but the lyric would be so ******* gritty.

Lalalala, lalalala, lalalala;

The weight is so **** heavy.

Lalalala, lalalala, lalala;

The escape is too passe.

Lalalalalalalala, and where
the **** are you?

Everyone else is drunk and I’m
a hallucinogenic and a landmine.

A shadow rises in the morning,
A sudden darkness through the trees.
The sun is shining through the doorway,
The spirits whisper on the breeze.

I found myself a lonely island,
A place, I felt,  I'd find some peace,
I missed the cliff as I was driving,
Missed the warm rush of the sea.

Another night on my horizon,
I stole a candle for some light,
I'd never thought much of surviving,
But I feel sure it'll be alright.

The lizard greets me in the morning,
The scaly messengers of kings.
And life is anything but boring,
when all that's left is empty streets.

The bells are calling them to mourning,
The ones who march in silent sleep.
A field of poppies beckons for me;
A shallow grave but three feet deep.

I run through the forest of the night
Wolf paws beating my reckless flight
Bones crunching with sweet pain
Wiping clear all thoughts sane
A scream tears from my throat
As chestnut trails weave my coat
Primeval cries rise from the night
My hackles raise ready to fight
Silver bullets scream through the air
Searching for my skin to tear
Cold light simmers in their eyes
As evil as their blood thirsty cries
Chasing me with skill and speed
Trying to quench some insatiable need
Bullets spilling my crimson blood
Shallow puddles in the half dried mud
And as my reign fell in the forest of the night
My last thought was of dawns first light

The absence of light is a common fear
Dreaded absence, the non existence which exists
The dark, the absence of light which cant compare
To the fear I felt when you left me in darks grips

I thought you didn’t exist anymore, then you did
Like a light shone in the middle of night
This fear scraped my insides out again, God forbid
You ever realize that which you havent become

I fought so hard to drown the absence
I was healthy, as night and day coexist
Yet suddenly I was shot again by my own perish
If I could control the wound you know I would

Punishment exists in this absence where I live
A shallow voice screaming at another
Both belong to me, for I forbid
Any of this existing in light

Dreams are your hopes
Nightmares are your fears
But both combined can be a tricky situation
You could have a great night sleep
But have one nightmare
That can ruin the entire night
That one nightmare that wakes you up
Cold sweat dripping off your forehead
Your breath is shallow
The nightmare that could make you wake up in tears
You just end up sitting up late
Calming your nerves
You question what the nightmare was about
But you don’t want to know what it means
It’s 4 AM
No one is awake
But YOU
Instead you go back to bed
And hope
Hope you don’t have that nightmare again

The Figure gained speed.
The Beaten Path continued to shallow him.
The Stranger did not know which would **** him first.
He relaxed, and accepted his fate.
Mud encompassed his head, the Figure was inches away.

Life gave way from his body.
His head went limp, he fainted.
The Figure stopped the mud, and sighed.
"Humans."
The Stranger awoke, as the sun shined on him from the east.
This Figure did not have the predominate human features;
No ears,
No mouth,
No nose,
No hair, and
No pupils.
But eyes stared blankly at him.

Death, was amused that he didn't faint.
Then the laughter came when, the Stranger figured out who he was.
The laughter filled his head, echoing through his body.
"Yes, Death is thee name and fame."

once upon a time
there was a princess
who had always searched for her prince
searched high
and searched low
but never found anything
that didn't bore her.

she's play with some neighbors,
tug on their minds with her words
and try to entertain herself
but nothing ever impressed her -
she didn't expect it to.
the princess got more and more confused
wondering if her standards were too high

or her pool simply too shallow.
she came to the conclusion
that she would have to settle
that she would have to entertain herself
and give in to life's ordinary train
and follow it around the tracks
around around around.

one day she met a prince from a far away kingdom
someone she approached as a friend,
someone she found lots in common with.
"this should be fun," thought the princess,
"until I get bored again."
they talked, they laughed, they enjoyed each other
and the princess waited to be bored.

they'd created inside jokes,
and she discovered he'd been raised similar to her,
with the same comfort foods,
same music, same entertainment, same tastes,
and she never stopped laughing and smiling.
he made her simply happy, and she never thought,
never considered it might last.

the princess waited for the prince
to reveal something she didn't like,
to stop talking, to not share an interest,
to treat her wrong, to do something wrong,
but every time something went wrong,
she discovered it was her fault.
the only thing holding them back was her.

so she talked to the prince.
she talked to her parents, and they told her
that this was an impossible thing,
that he lived too far away,
that this would never last, it would never work,
for true love does not exist.
and she was devastated.

if there was not one person for her
in the world, one person worth waiting for,
what had she been doing her entire life?
no one had struck her fancy before he,
no one had caught her eye for more than a moment,
and everyone else had let her down,
even her own flesh and blood.

she locked herself away, confused and hurt,
tearing her hair out, writing on the walls
when she ran out of paper, scratching with her nails
when she ran out of pencils, and the only thing
that would save her from herself was her prince's image,
the thought of his laugh, his voice,
his eyes that enchanted her.

she had found what she had never expected to find,
could care less where he was from,
where he was going, where he was living.
she'd been raised a skeptic, with no hope
for the true love, the soulmates,
the prince of her dreams that she heard of
in all the fairy tales - for they were just stories.

now that she was presented with this truth,
and the king and queen were still cynical,
she could do nothing but choke back her tears
and pray to a god she didn't believe in.
the image of the prince was all that would save her
from giving into her own darkness,
but even he couldn't cling that tightly.

Even he couldn't cling that tightly.

(Dedicated to my Father, who was totally paralyzed
for 7 years before he died.)

I awake in the early morning darkness
Frozen, motionless, immobilized.
My eyes straining to see into the black void
Looking for any sign of my keepers
Listening for any kind of movement
Phantom images dart around me slowly at first,
Then multiple images spring from every direction
My heart racing, my breathing rapid and shallow,
Byproducts of fear and imagination
Running amok in the dark

My eyes focus on tiny lights incessantly blinking,
Reassuring my heart as the phantoms vanish
My ears register the intermittent beeps
And steady, determined droning
Of contraptions that populate my space,
Their sole purpose to prevent the outcome I crave

My nose catches whiffs of iodoform odor,
Penetrating, pungent, overpowering my sense of smell.
A cruel replacement for what once was
A weekly parade of fragrant flowers
That excited what few senses remain
The brightly colored blossoms
The sweet, fragrant smells
The delightful sizes and shapes
But the beautiful flowers have withered,
As concern for my plight has waned

I watch as the determined, dynamic sun
Deliberately dilutes the darkness,
Revealing the magical birth of a new day.
Is that delightful birdsong I hear?
The beeping and droning are maddening,
But I know there’s birdsong outside my window
I can’t wait until the moment arrives!

As if on cue my keeper appears
Busily going about her assigned tasks
My eyes following her every move
“And how are you doing today?” she asks,
Staring at me as if I could answer.
But I lie frozen, motionless, immobilized
In my mind I replay my daily reply:

"My existence is a never-ending cycle of
Penetrating. . . pungent. . . whiffs
Beep. . . blink. . . drone. . . beep
Blink. . . drone. . . beep, . . . blink
Drone. . . beep. . . blink. . . drone
Penetrating. . . pungent. . . whiffs
Dawn. . . daylight. . . twilight. . . night
Daylight. . . twilight. . . night. . . dawn
Twilight. . . night. . . dawn. . . daylight
Night. . . dawn. . . daylight. . .twilight
Penetrating. . . pungent. . . whiffs
Each boring minute an hour.
Each hateful hour a day.
Each wretched day a year.
Each torturous year a lifetime.
Ad nauseum. . .ad infinitum. . .ad mortem?"

Offering no response to my unspoken thoughts,
My keeper dutifully takes my vital signs,
Temperature, pulse, respiration, blood pressure,
Records the results, then walks to the window
My favorite time of day has arrived!
“We must open the window to freshen up your room.”
As the window opens my spirit soars, and my ears capture
The lovely birdsong, as well as other living sounds,
Along with a veritable potpourri of smells.
I can only imagine what is happening outside,
And I do imagine it as best I can

I close my eyes and try to make out each note,
Visualizing the source of each incredible sound,
Be it bird, animal, human, or otherwise
Who they are, what they look like,
What they’re doing, what they’re thinking,
The blinking, beeping, droning is finally drowned out!
With every breath, I savor each smell
And, with eyes closed, as I visualize
What’s happening in my mind’s eye,
A wonderful peace envelops me. . . comforts me

But, alas, this day will be crueler than most
Another keeper, a newer keeper, enters my room
“Oh, she’s fallen asleep” he whispers,
He closes the window, shuts the shades,
Then quietly leaves, shutting the door
I SCREAM A LOUD, LONG, PRIMAL SCREAM!
... in my mind
As I lie frozen, motionless, immobilized—   
Paralyzed

well, it's still better than what populists ascribed to with omni-; which basically led two major "monotheisms" (Christianity and Islam) into pantheism: e.g. - touch a rock, mm, that's god... touch a banana, mm, that's god; stick a thumb up your ***, mm... now that's truly god.

what i was aiming to suggest was the concept
of *deo sapiens,
as an antidote to the overrated **** sapiens
categorisation, which can hardly be the limit
of our collective definition of man set apart
from nature, given his persistent submission
to the four elements of nature, which limit
man's assurance as above helpless animals he
decided to pet or industrialise in farming -
and apart from the elements the existence of
parasites and diseases (negations of ease) -
i only wanted to introduce the concept deo sapiens
to say F U to the Greek demoralising theological
poets, and enjoin the whole concept with
what was already inscribed prior: made in his image,
although image doesn't really go beyond
the demigod Narcissus in what's to be understood:
perhaps we are of the same mould in
the shallow realm of equal representation,
repraesentatio expilo (representative plagiarism),
but with the overruling body of nuance
hanging over us like a sack of **** or the sword
of Damocles, we can hardly continue as these unshaken
prefects of the firm categorisation of **** sapiens,
which is still rather an infant of conceptualisation,
we have no claim to **** sapiens, i cannot think
why man claimed such a firm atheistic belief with
his continual irrationality, perhaps certain discoveries
in science allowed him crossing the Nile of ideas,
thus in the same way as i disregard the categorisation
of **** sapiens i invite the concept of deo sapiens,
a rational god: it's just a massive grave and subsequent
plagiarism with pyramid schemes of dupes!
that thing ain't gonna fly! away from greek poets who
purposively created immoral gods to satiate their
human fancy: indeed an unfair world, but a world
where man can fully express his freedom, and what
freedom he chooses according to his will...
only a deo sapiens would allow such freedoms
(with that one ****** exception that's worth a thousand
stigmas in the shadow of the crux that gave us
so much narcissistic culture via iconography and dyslexia);
or in other words, yes, indeed only a **** insapiens
would dare craft the idea of a deo sapiens
(although in act of good faith / doubt), rather than
a **** sapiens crafting the idea of deo insapiens
(although in act of bad faith / denial) -
and yes, the paradoxical twins, who are actually
Siamese... it's now up to your choice of painting with
will what freedom you wish to see revealed on
the canvas... don't mind me, my hands are in the air,
i surrender... i'm not about to imitate an Islamic prayer
format of kneeling and mumbling something under
my breath five times a day; i'll do it in one smooth
guillotine stroke: hands in the air.

Time is wonton soup,
And that tall boy you stole last night
Is still inside your trunk.

Cigarette smoke and sunscreen air
Perfume the burning grass.
When all is placed on greenfly's wing
He tumbles forward - brash.

Cool pursuit, and time lapse too,
Persist the stagnant air
Of summertime and sweet plum wine,
Cocoons, a golden snare.

Black lace ******* disarray
I want to know your plans,
From shallow noon till dusty dusk
With warm and calloused hands.

I don't have a new years resolution this year
But it always ends up becoming the same thing

"Aim to become less ugly, learn how to be pretty"

Still working on that

Maybe I'm shallow
Or maybe
I'm just broken

Maybe I just would like one year to he truly pretty
Because I don't have enough inner beauty to rely on that
And you know what

To everyone who sees me
I'm just and Ugly Girl.

She fought for you
A ride despicable
And you saw the truth
The truth undeniable
In her womb lie mysteries
Mysteries of love
Love and hate


She whispers
In slow shallow words
The song of a mother
The lullaby
She whispers
In the toughest times
The song of a defender
The warcry


She taught you fear
Fear from your own demons
Fear of the depravities
Fear, that makes you dead
She taught you love
Love for all the things
Love for the unkind
Love, that makes you alive


So sing for her
For not just her pride
For its her life

Let the seven horned demon slap the *****,
that sinful temptress that leaves men dying on the floor.
Let the gates of hell be cast open wide,
and blood pour from every sinners side.

Come stand here at the divide between evil and good,
and be the human sacrifice that you know you should.
It's punishment for your poisonous lies,
the devils gonna enjoy scratching out your eyes.

The flaming sword will burn your soul;
your heart is as black as coal.
Burn in hell ****, be the devils slave.
I hope you end your life in a shallow grave

You have just signed your death warrant in blood,
if I was able to **** you then I would.
I'd plunge my hand in your chest, rip out your heart
and cut out your tongue, you stupid ****.

This rock
Spinning in its orbit around God
With oceans full of souls
And souls full of
wishes,
wants,
and whispers
so shallow like a baby's breath.

I've toiled and fought
and loved
and lusted
and lived seething secretly
in a seemingly impenetrable fog
and once the sun came out
the secrets were all gone but not forgotten

They were carved into stone
and torn into the flesh of me
And while I sat
stuttering
and muttering
in a drunken mess,
the sun came out once more upon this rock
and showed the perfect skin
was nothing more than old leather
cracked and craggy and full of holes
So many holes that my rib fell out and tumbled away.

There I sat upon this rock
with God and sun and sorrow
There I lay dying with a wet face
and the belief that there really was no tomorrow,
yet a spark was still in me somehow
Or perhaps it was just a soothing thought
that gave me a sense of peace even if just for now
that even though my fate seemed bought
there were still more lessons I would be taught
and more things for me to do while dying.

Mr Douglass is doing well
doing big things
in America today,
big things,
being noticed,
yes he is.

Ben took me with him
& I met some too,
Black folks
that is,
great people,
great people,
and Omarosa
and Paul
lovely folks,
lovely,
but the Press
is unfair,
unfair.

and African-Americans
love this country
and did big things,
& I like them,
I really do.

All this shallow
near incoherent
rambling
from a man
who questioned
the very legitimacy
of America's first
African-American
President,

questioned it day
after day

for two
toxic
& racist
& vicious
years.

All great minds have been called insane .. Superfluous indulgence in petty day's gossip is not where human consciousness is supposed to find it's grave_Indeed ! They know not .. the beauty of the other side ..A place not easily accessible ... A bridge not visible.. The ladder too steep .. Or maybe hidden in plain sight !They see not ! They care not !
They just continue in their petty herds !
Of everyday groceries !
And predictable backbitchings !
How shallow, how very shallow !