You sow seeds of your life,

By your own self.

You wish that they survive,

Without others' help.


You put some water of affection,

And desire for a vibrant leaves collection.

You anticipate it show the true inner reflection.


You wish the plant to grow soon,

It peaks out and sees the brutality.

You take care of it in the blazing afternoon,

So that it doesn't adapts to the causality.


You wish it to grow into a sturdy brawny tree,

Which gives fruits and blooms flowers,

Which can be set free,

And is full of vie and power.


Once it's usual to the surroundings,

People come and go.

And say bad words cursily

The tree- it's morals go low.


The imaginations and expectations

All are failed.

Full of scars and suctions

You now sailed.

Back to - from where you came.

No guilt, no regret, no shame.

You think to earn more fame,

Making your life truly lame.


The tree without you died,

Because it had no hope.

Are you still capable to say "it's mine"

It is long gone.

calling IV

calling all truck drivers
calling all car dealers
            all scuba divers
            all potato peelers
            all mothers
            all sons
            all brothers
calling all who’ve won
            all losers, users, and just
            all perusers of rusty lust
calling all criminals
            all those who’ve tussled and cussed

calling all mechanics
and all whom, in them, trust
calling all politicians
for i must

beg of ye to see this infinity in we

calling all ministers of high finance
            all fragile tendencies toward your dance
            with your blossoming children
            and their salty breezes
            their blown into kerchiefs
            and their seizing sneezes
            seeing you as you carry them toward
            our unifying dust
            i hold no ill will toward that soil you till
            i’ve passed around your notes, your bonds,
            and your bills
            i’d thought i’d be one of you ‘til i met a few untils
            love your children, and love yourself,
            for they shall carry your ashes
            into a box upon a shelf
            that dust behind all wealth

calling all foxes, dogs, cats, chickens, and beetles
            all sages, rosemary, spikes, and needles
            all wages, incendiaries, wallops, and weebles
            all pages, all poets
            all police, all panthers
            all those battling fires
            without and within
            all those atop towers
            all whom are twins
calling all wheels
                  upon all surfaces
                  all of those mired
                  in a sense of worthlessness
calling all kings
calling all nations
calling all jordan’s, americas, and native stations
                  we’re writing too much blood
                  into not enough ground
                  we’ve survived our flood
                  and are forever bound

calling brother abel and brother cain
            father abraham and mother pain
            you’ve traumatized me
            from all this blood you’ve lain
            i see peace in all your eyes
            blown to pieces in terrorizing replies

calling all consumers, producers, unionizers, and managers
                  corporations, and not for profit planners
                  all doctors, nurses, clients, and programmers
                  advertisers, marketers, bloggers, and spammers
                  all engineers of damns, bridges, and destructions
                  those who fell they’re ****** due to their suctions
                  i’ve sensed a fragile beauty in your moistened orbs
                  you all carry
                  i beg of you all to come from love
                  lay down your swords
                  i beg you not tarry
                  come women laying into asphalt
                  come scientists predicting san andreas’ fault
                  come widows, charlatans, and poets of trite
                                                                 all ye poets weeping into ye hands
                                                                 all ye poets of darkness and light
                                                                 perfect light and darkness are myths upon this earth
                                                                 just as perfect black and white
                                                                 are myths spun from history’s dearth

It's a place where I lose myself
A palace, a chateau even
It's where my eyes ache
And I become a heathen

It's a leech, it suctions
To my leg in my left pocket
I defeat its functions
When I cease and lock it

It's a place where migraines spawn
Where I am a wandering fawn
Alone and heartbroken
Waiting for a word to be spoken

But there isn't a single one
Nothing uttered from my tongue
Just a device that becomes
My leader and my god

Its function is to reduce
Me and to produce
A captive bone bag

"The text is typical. It's like a speech whose units mold like a dropping of a secretion. And since he is here a glottic gesture, work on oneself of the language, the element
                                                                         It is the saliva that also sticks units to each other. The association is a sort of slimy contiguity, never a reasoning or symbolic appeal; the goop from the hazard makes sense, and progress pace by small tremors, grasping and suctions, veneer - in every sense - and slippery *******. In the mouth or along the column. "

My dog keeps me alive sometimes

In the deep dark nights when he curls against the backs of my legs
Nestles in the crook of my bent knees
I wake up enough to feel his breath on my hand.

My dog keeps me alive sometimes

When I come home bone-tired and exhausted, the world making a home in my eyes, he suctions himself to my side and brings me his very own things, knowing I need more than just he can give.

My dog keeps me alive sometimes

I tell him this when I feel so sad I want to cease existence and even that confession keeps me on my feet for another day.

And when he gets old and worn, I will get him a shadow so that I can be kept alive by another being who depends on me more than I depend on myself.