***** he stands; (he has no midnight plans,
but one). From stroke of dawn, to coming dusk
he plays himself the song of lonesome hands:
first lost, then found, himself alone in lust.
The pleasure passes quickly; shaft will fret
through spasms rushing body (stiff and red)
‘till passion splurging, flying – white and wet –
then falls to bed in blissful blank of head.
The dripping love and ecstasy, once mine,
has gone and passed – the small false-death
of rhyme;so still, I sit, past stupor *** divine:
(the ***-less *** that’s made for private time).
So help yourself, but please, take note of this:
to play is fun – but nothing like a kiss!

Hateful tears slice my skin like razors in the bathtub
I’ve been hurt by the bare hands that once bound us together too many times
You were an angel to me and you loved me like a child
But when I come home and your breath smells like cheap whiskey you twist and thrive underneath burning skin belonging to a type of corruption only the Devil could endure

My bruised eyes are proof of your demons
My broken arm is proof of your demons
My always plentiful supply of makeup to cover your loving blue outline is proof of your demons
My battered body is proof of your demons

The pain doesn’t scare me. I accept it as my own.
I understand your need for attention and your need to be left alone.
I just haven’t mastered the ability to sense when you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for too long
Flashbacks of your own childhood-the ******* that your daddy forced upon you
The sound of skin tearing, the scent of blood. Your fathers voice. His silhouette hovering.

You linger in the doorway for too long when I walk in.
I look in your eyes; the **** videos play back to me. I know I shouldn’t touch-I remind you too much of your father.
Threats to leave me, swinging your fists.

Tomorrow you will say how mistaken you were-you thought I was your father you thought I was a monster but you know now that I’m the most intimate version of a mother you should know
Curling up, weeping your apology. Comfort me, hold me, you beg.

I know better than this. I picture my mother “Once and you leave him.” But its been 16 months now and i cannot leave a fallen angel.
I can’t bring myself to walk out because I know you chose me.
Distrusting; you chose me. You saw I had flowers splurging from my veins and all anyone else could see was self abusing thorns.

The blood from your knuckles soak the blood resting upon my face
It tugs and pulls and I bring you in
Your beautiful, tear filled eyes make me feel special
“I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry, I love you”
I’m sorry I love you.

Once I have been to that city
the city of ritzy splendour,
of hoary grandeur,
a gargantuan pile of steel and granite.
It stood an enigma
on the banks of Hudson,
lulling the waves to sleep
in the garish light of neon bulbs
with an eternal tumult
heating up its nerves

Walking down its streets alien
scenes eerie scurried past-
Men and women-
of all climes and continents
all ethnic denominations,
all shapes, sizes and colours,
blonds, brunettes,
blacks and whites,
tourists and nomads,
in flashing styles
outlandish costumes,
tonsured, dyed
and tattooed,
on shoulders, back and chest
with bizarre shapes,
Some dressed from top to toe
many bordering on ******,
splurging with life
feverish and frenzied
speaking different dialects,
some tall, some lean, many obese
trundling down busy streets
that never go still
with sleep and awakening
but action, commotion, agitation,
where each day is an eternity
and each night- a New Year’s Eve
where business runs without pause
rife with sounds and noises -
the incessant roars of fevered minds
muffled, stifled, excited, agonized
mixing with music flowing from concert halls
merging in sounds of siren
and speeding traffic
A banal hubbub-
A hoarse discordant clamour!

I passed through avenues
where sky scrapers
huddled together on either side
where once stood the Twin Towers
stabbing into clouds –
those titanic monuments of Yankee pride,
one day raced down to Ground Zero
where terrorists wreaked havoc
and wiped thousands unwary -
still frozen in the dark memories
of that day light nightmare!

Passing down Wall Street,
the nation’s Money Mart
that spawns an industry
of ruthless dreams and fantasies,
I saw,
the mammoth Bull, charging feral
under whose crushing hooves
many fall dead
and rise again like Phoenix
or soar into indefinable heights
or bury their dreams ever
under the sod.

Broad roads that stretched endless
seemed to lose themselves
like the mazy tangle of complex minds,
and pavements
littered with a thousand moving feet
Men and women in pairs,
hand in hand,
lip to lip,
bodies entwined
seen in beaches and parks
in whose brain
Marriage- labelled an anachronism!

In these hurricane of faces
with fleeting passions
or fixations of their own
What chemistry could I discern?
A zest for life--or its absence?
A search for a life lost in living?
A fight for survival
Or
A passive surrender to the inevitable?
I do not know—
I fail to define
I fail to divine.

I am knees deep in a quick sand
designed for people like me
by a system that thrives
on a climate of fear
Obtaining knowledge while selling my soul
Profit driven suits,  
splurging words about our rights
and our duties
Camouflaging their own self-interest
Playing monopoly on knowledge
Convincing us,
that chasing that silly piece of paper
is the only option
Concealing the true cost that
comes with knowledge
One most of us will never be able to afford
An ocean of debt,
one I will surely pay until I'm dead
Behold the loophole though,
silver spooned fed mouths
need not sink nor swim
That hollowed shaped silver
holding them high above ground
While the rest of us sink
limb by limb
into a quicksand that was designed for people like us

One by one they stagger in

And one by one
They are stabbed again

And there is not a single thing
That you or I can do for them

As they are they
And we are we

And we
We are Americans

All us worldly citizens

And we
We will do it all again

But

Bigger better
Smarter harder

Bigger bombs
Bigger bonds
Better arms
And better cons

Smarter teams
Smarter dreams
Harder fiends
With harder clings

To speculative seams

Sinking into the dreams
Meaninglessness

Free will
A cress

Made in the finesse of last laughs

Trapped in a maze
Amazed in lapsed..

Pain
The same as sympathy

Empathy fills me
But not you

Who the **** are you
Feel me feeling you

I am the impossible
Possibly hostile

Martyr to a better place
From carvers of the human face

Disgraced

Plucked and pruned
Fallen from space
****** imprudent
Shielded in hate

Grace is made this way

I can
I will
I am

And we can
All relate

From sculpted slates
We can blame the genetic traits

I stand
I ****
I am

Still me

But a who the **** are you
Is still a who the **** am I

And I am merely me
Marrying myself to the breeze

Flowing dis-compassionately

The woe only in I
Same goes for you

What’s mine is yours
And what’s yours
Is mine too

And you
You are
So ******* beautiful
To me

For me..

Waiting patiently
For us to meet

As this
This ******* dream

Is disintegrating

In graying hair
And brittled teeth

Right before me

Between my fingers
Secreting my completeness

The sheen that lingers
Of what may beat this

You are Less and less
Amiss and drifting through an abyss
Of timelessness
Or *******

Lighting the nothingness
With the something’s we have lit

Crumpling the summoning
Under running concepts

I flip it
Loop it
Re-repeat it
Speak it
And there it is

Until it's all there is

To be convinced
Of it ever being

It is what it is
It is what you make of it

But it
It is non-existent
Despite the coherence
Of the zing

It's still *******

However you paint it
Manipulative and complacent

I still sing

And once you get it
The pit still sits

Right where you left it
And you still aint ****

Merely being

We Just ride it
Until the end

Slowly declining in its decent
Commending the contempt
And spending our worth

To vent and purge
The splurging words
While observing the swerves
Of our naked nerves
In the sunlight

I writhe in light
Like in the warm shower insights
To my life
Lost when I dry

I'll be alright
When our eyes
Lock on the same night
On the same starry skies
Hypnotizing our lies
Into drive
As we drive
Off the same cliff

It's candle lit
Convalescence
To our testaments
To love and hate the love
In the wretched lessons
Lessened by the blessings
From the others projecting
Our chances of living
On our setting sons

Till the dawn of war drums
Strum with our fathers guns
On the gumption
Of the stun
As it fades away
As the faces deteriorate
From pictures framed of mind

Despite the rewinding
To the reeling back
Of everything that happened
In the snap back

Unto impact
It is the rubber band that snapped

That held it all together

Facts are still facts
Or perhaps
A map
To what happened
And trapped it
To one singular act
Of submission

The intuition
A mere vision
Made to action
Seeing is believing

The deceiving traction

Mashing the imagination
In its station for supremacy

Satisfaction

A ration
Of the disbelief
Molding into my souly retreat
Where I shall lovingly
Accept defeat
And fall upon my knees
Unto your love for me

Seeing you reflecting
Your similar beliefs

Once unbeknownst in the grief

Simply beautiful

I see us disappearing in the seas
In pulling tides
And swirling cities

Where we complete
Upon meeting
As we sink

In a chilled morning of Christmas Eve,
Among the bells and carols there was a groan.
Disgusted by smiles, revolted by fun,
If grouchy were a person, it’d be Mr. Stone.
An accountant for three decades,
Joy was drained from his now frigid heart.
He’d take a stroll every day at sunrise,
Numbering the days until his soul departs.
Senseless ruckus, remarked Mr. Stone,
As he walked along the crowded London street,
A season without reason, only mindless
Splurging, incurring debt and wealth deplete.
Hey there sir, want some candy canes?
Asked a little boy, they’re only one crown.
Mr. Stone leaned in with pursed lips,
Too expensive, boy, you ought to settle down.
Sorry sir, it’s just I have nothing to eat.  
Would you be so kind and lend me a hand?
Hmmm… I’d rather not, I despise sweets,
I’m more in the mood for something bland.
With that Mr. Stone continued his walk,
Traversing through an abandoned back alley.
It was dark and musty, infested with rats,
The perfect place for all his woes to tally.
However, a baby’s cry caught his attention
Which was coming from a dumpster nearby.
Mr. Stone approached the source of the cry,
And behold a baby wrapped in rags there lied.
Oh my, how can this be? Who’d do such a thing?
He took the baby into his arms covered in filth,
Astounded by her mesmerizing emerald eyes
And skin with a hue like that of creamy milk.
The baby hushed the second he held her
And gazed upon the eyes of Mr. Stone.
He felt his mind invaded and thoughts probed,
An electrifying sensation bone by bone.  
Suddenly he found himself at his childhood home,
Sitting at the dinner table with his mother.
You’re going to eat your vegetables, William,
If only you’d be more like your older brother.
He was then whisked to his school yard,
Pushed around by his ruthless peers.
You’re so weird and ugly, William Stone,
You deserve a nice clout to your ears.
Boom.
Now he’s in a field of snow and naked trees.
William, come make snow angels with me,
Said a girl with mesmerizing emerald eyes.
I’m coming Eve, he answered gleefully.
They laughed and played until sunset.
William, promise me we’ll always be together.
Of course, he assured her, together forever.
He closed his eyes, and he was standing beside
A casket, Eve resting in a bed of white roses.
I thought we’d be together forever.
Her parting was unbearable and corrosive.
Mr. Stone now stood with the baby girl,
Tears rolling down his reddened cheeks.
I thought we’d be together forever.
I’ve found you, Eve. You’re mine to keep.

Inhale, exhale
A quick intake and shuddering sigh
The last thing he wants to do is this thing here and now.

It's pointless he says sourly
He has potential but he hides it behind the ****** job he got
As a freshman in high school.

It's a horrible habit he'll never kick.
Potential-hiding that is.
He's not legal, but I buy him the alcohol he wants anyway.

Because I went to grad school, and still I see myself
Wishing I was this loser dropout
Still splurging paycheques on condoms and red solo cups.

One day I will buy chocolate milk,
One day I will fly first class,
One day my shirts will be silk,
One day I’ll have a backstage pass.

I am accustomed to saying No
To things that would make me smile,
It’s not that I’m short on dough
But splurging just isn’t my style.

The waiter asks if I’d like a sundae,
Oh my, I couldn’t do that,
Perhaps I’ll have it one day
Because I don’t want to get fat.

This attitude long ago was learned
And strangely it has survived,
Trust me I’m deeply concerned
Why I am so often deprived.

I know I deserve the best,
And shouldn’t make life tougher,
I feel that I’m overly stressed,
And I don’t deserve to suffer.

Starting today I shall vow
To indulge my deepest desires,
To spoil myself I’ll learn how
Before my dull life expires.

My eyes have never had the opportunity to even glare at diamonds.
I’ve never had the experience of tasting water from the cup of life.
The shame of my current status, in a suburban purgatory; where all the houses look the same.
And the town is slowly decaying.
The radio, television and computer spew promises of golden treasures
Dionysian parties.
Lavish, mischievous endeavors.
And never even taking a moment to mull over the choices.
Bentleys soaring through the city nights.
But it’s just in our prayers.
A watch covered in rubies that won’t tell time,
Because it doesn’t matter,
Pricey top shelf alcohols,
Exotic purebred animals,
Paying no mind to the expense.
I have no time to listen to your lustful desires.
We may never be these magnificent stars above…
For our blood isn’t lucky or holy.
Yet we don’t crave extravagance.
But desire that eluding excitement.
Name me king!
And kiss the ring!
I’m just a fool.
It’s all but a dream.
We have unraveled the clandestine riddles.
Rolling pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,
On our way to the wishing well.
And it’s effortless to distinguish between barren pockets and bursting pouches of dabloons and denarius’.
No nuisance to us we’ve worked for what we have.
The curse of greed, self-indulgence,
Splurging on foolish fixations.
Impaired, decked out
Obliterating the palace.
While keeping their noses in the airs they put on.
Pumpkin carriages at midnight,
Platinum plates for a marvelous feast.
Airplanes, cruise ships.
All we need are the keys.
Ride on the horizon.
We maybe become millionaires, take the money and run
But we don’t need the luxury;
We only yearn for the golden sun.
I’m not an emperor,
Nor a leader.
Just a player in this life,
They call a game.

1,
Are we to speak, first day of the week
or are we to await the third day of next week?
these little monsters that weigh heavily on my mind.
monsters that grow larger at night.

2,
Stumbling words at the bar,
empty glasses,
the unappealing smell of ethanol.
these monsters threaten to shatter my reality.

3,
Beauty blue eyes, my order of fries
splurging tomato sauce,
layers of sour cheese atop my order.
I drown in my own honesty.
...

.

*I opened the rusted iron gateway
bound in chain and wire, to find a landing
caked in muddied footprints, scattered about like roaches
Magpie shadows course the rain soaked streets
and puddle patterns reflect temptation as light flickers
from second floor moan filled parlors, painted nails scratching

Navigating the fog entrenched alley, garbage bins fallen
create a maze of skinned shins and bloodied lips
when I come to an arched opening, only hinges remain
The staircase up is dark, creaking under my weight
I count the holes collected in plaster walls yawning,
prior frustrations showing no mercy

The stench of tar and factory waste wallows,
catching me stumbling through the opening to the roof,
gasping in the ever thinning air
Dark clouds retaliate for earlier lost days
when stale bread pudding was a treat
served to those of less fortunate standing

What life is this to lead anyway, empty pockets
and hand me down promises, watching shadows below
taking chances and knocking up opportunities
Red door, black door, be careful which you choose,
for one color leads to the lower city,
the underground where ***** flows like crazed sewage

The other holds within ****** fantasies
and red lipstick smudges,
but beware when jiggling those tarnished handles
with your best foolish grin,
the cost is what you can't afford to lose

Swine roam the busy square freely,
splurging on last night’s tossed garbage,
grunting approval in an off key symphony
of stringless digestion, slobering regurgitation
beyond the blinded eyes of the others
lost indefinitely within themselves

Street lamps spit hot oil through fractured glass
dripping onto the formal evening wear
and diamond brooches worn by the elite,
making their way to the opera house where marble steps
are lined with evergreen topiaries
losing needles to the addicts of the night

A carriage passes, glazed eyes peer from lace curtains,
hidden hands roam freely the velvet seats and occupants,
as painted wheels follow ruts in the worn cobblestone
Smoke spews from stained brick chimneys and cracking mortar
discoloring the moon and choking stars
with a filth to be reckoned with

I sit on this rooftop alone, looking down,
scarred legs dangling over the edge four flights up,
wondering if anyone would care if I jumped
When startled by a noise behind me, footsteps perhaps
I turn to see the beautiful silhouette of a woman, flowing hair,
hand extended, "I would," she whispers...

I was clipped at birth,
         never meant to fly..
Only to crawl before I walked.

Shamed to crawl on the filth
        of those below me..
never wording, only splurging nonsense.

But when I learn to crawl,
        I leant morality.
Morality was my chain clinging closely.

And I learnt I fell from nowhere,
             to a point of a momently breath.

Glad that l lived in the now,
                not the extinguished breath
of what had already faded to nothingness.

I said - what?!
I can earn much cash
as long as
I serve enough ads?
maybe...
Food & Drink ? (please.)
   *" and who would think
   the Hive would lie?
       Besides -
   You and I both know we're better off than the next guy
   You know, the left side type to return from work and gets high? " *
I tend to the bars to ascend into stars
probably end up on Mars by the time I end this verse -
'cause life's too short not to fight this war
   So worry free? Never me.
I liked when words
get the recipe - stirred
must be, -
why I'm the latest scoop
must be, -
when I didn't post up on the greatest stoop
See - it let me be free, - unnerved
instead of
splurging at every urge occurring and I'm worried
so of course I'm surging with venom,
one man's poison and is another man's medicine
but every moment you're in is blurring with desire and sin and
Emergency - Insurgency
Insurance schemes - and murderous fiends
swerving from being purged of their devilish ways
and I thought I was just at the rebellious age
but this is the rebellious age, where selfishness gets paid
Personally? I don't know if I'll never make it well...
probably wake up naked in the bottom of a well
for the words I wrote and just
walk up to gates of hell
ugh... let me re-explain myself....

comparing you of such two separate things,
seemed to leave an everlasting crazed effect on my mind.
you left me searching for days,
ink contained within this pen
spilling in the depths of my mind
all for the simplest of creative comparison
to emerge from my chest.
Not to leave me with this deep regret
splurging from my spine.
hoping to have these words come across the tongue
like the images stuck behind my lips.
hoping the words I mutter before you
align to the fullest of my reoccurring thoughts:
It is mythed out to be,
that the silliest of all things named the bumble bee
is a gift well given.
The sweetest provided taste
mixed deep within your tea.
A sweeter taste,
Not known to man.
How hard the bee works,
all for the tea you drink day by day,
is there a thought in your mind
wondering when will it fade?
Comparing events with your actions,
Easier than that batter of the eye
Comparing yourself to your actions,
No words will ever be able to sum up the emotions
that you’ve spilled inside of me and left the mess.
Here are some words  may regret:
Sometimes upon listening to the bird out near the window,
I would seem to of heard your voice between their calls
That soon turned into their dearest of songs.
The bird in my opinion,
Which is never recognized by the wise
Seems to be one of the loveliest creatures,
I ever did see.
Unappreciated by some,
Noticed by next to none.
The way they come and go,
No warning just sudden betrayal by the ones paying notice,
Keeps me in wonder of why a return at all ever surfaces through their mind.
Much like you to me,
Why a sudden go
Shorts out all the matter,
Leaving the return you present me with,
All that’s on my mind.  
I say this because I heard by a few,
How lovely the birds sound in a spring’s earliest day.
I compare you to the birds because after a while,
we pay next to none of a care,
the beauty of the returnal,
and the saddens that should fill us in their betrayal.

Let’s start small; let’s say you’ve found a picture
Is it something you recognize?
Or just another image in the collage that is your life
Does it ignite the fire of your imagination?
Or does it ever so slightly caress a long lost memory

Let’s say you’re talking to your god about worship
Does he tell you how to praise him?
In the day, at night, standing up, kneeling down, or not at all
Would he tell you who is wrong?
Could you tell them?
Or just not listen and go on living
Dismissing the words, being lost in the wind

Or when you realize one day the world will end
Would you try to stop it?
Or fulfill every dream you had
Splurging like a kid in the candy store

Or let’s say you read about an antidote that cured all disease
Do you think anybody else read it?
Would you go shout it at the top of rooftops?
And forward, email, face book, text, to everyone you know
Would you believe it?
Deep down

One day last month with nothing else to do
Did you pick up a book?
Or turn on the T.V.
For once watching the news and see what was going on outside your room

Or you’re in danger and you want to scream (but you don’t)
Because you’re just noticing that it’s all a dream
Do you go back to sleep
Or lie awake hoping that fear will fade
Will you dream again?
Of what?

And last year did you see how the people of the world came together
How man, hand in hand learned to overcome

Sometimes you can't get rid
Of that lingering stench
***** laundry leaves behind
You scrub everything religiously
And Fabreeze every nook and cranny
You rewash the clothes a few times
Just to be sure
But sometimes what it takes to rid yourself
Of ***** laundry
Is throwing it away
And splurging on something new

You and me
love like a
memory
moving
forwards backwards
up down side

no need to count
the ticks of the
clock
of life

better to feel them
listen
tickle
like every beat
of the short
life

we call love

one quasar to the next
frogpond
thoughts lost and found
more quickly
than a political
flip flop

chasing the dream
of living life
decently

without much mean
drama

you and me
one kiss
at a time

and us
one shake one tear one
laughter

at a time fighter
combatting the evils
of the humans
splurging out
of the news
like no tomorrow

but you and me
and
us
we cant afford
to dwell on every moment of that
vector

or the quasar might combust
from their rancid hearts

You and me
love like a
memory
moving
towards the better
times for you and me now
and them maybe
some day

so you and me
kid
kissing our way out of their
problems
with this love

and us
yall and them
taking the trickle

that we took from
them

the good ones

Stephen Jules Rubin
Santa Fe NM
late feb 2018

Splurging on ****** tales is a specialty of mine.
I heard that we are all our own Gods and we all are our own Heroes.
This is a privilege we sometimes overlook,
but I still dream of bigger words.
I know it well, but I am more of a stranger than I was yesterday.
I have made an agreement with my head to never get lost again,
because I think many of us are detached.
And in a world where we are all connected at the hip-
this discomforts me.
I have nothing to lose except everything.
My soul is old and has much to teach me
and I think that is the meaning of life.

Your Calling

I was talking with my husband about
What a blessing and how pivotal
It is to hit upon or feel the urge
Toward some profession,
Way of life or some vocation;
Trade or craft that calls you:
Which is why they call it calling.

Some pull which you can’t resist,
Insisting, splurging all it has,
That spurs you on,
A something giving you a kiss,
Summoning and intervening
(But which doesn’t always happen,
There not being any app
To lead the way).

Some just ‘have it’,
Never entering their heads to
Chase or fall into another path.
Lucky they who craft or hath
The gift or talent and good luck
To never buck the system,
Or its converse, follow hollowly
Right into mediocrity,
Stuck on levels never-growing,
Always burrowing and furrowing
The earth, the brow
Never to get somewhere no how.

Say a prayer if you’re not there yet.
Find your groove and move to bare it.
Sleepily or creepingly, but ardently in heart and mind
Till you find the calling key;
Use it in tranquility and fervor -
They go hand in hand, auguring well -
Passion can be quiet too.
You deserve a calling.
Serve the calling coming to you.

Your Calling 2.27.2018 I Is Always You Is We; Revelations Big & Small; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin

Digital love got us disconnected
Less affectionate
More constructive
Chasing fantasy, while unplugging from reality
Clicking twice on screens is the closest we get to being liked
Facing peer pressure to look better
Instead of being better
Living under the weather
Hoping it rains dollars
While praying that our perception saves us from our insecurities
Splurging to get respected, applying debt to our broken bank accounts
It’s showing it online that counts
Investing in likes instead of stocks
Computer love
sacrificing human affection for attention

Wake me not !
Drawn lies inside a dream of chaos.
With it, I am imprisoned
with deception,
barren with mistakes,
this fog of rage is resentful.

I am sour,
my mind is a *****,
my lips a cape.
Is this affliction!
Splurging with depictions.
Foreshadowing defeat.
I am neither deemed nor trimmed ,
i am just girl with a scar, a
we my conviction