O yesterday,
you hold on dear
I, the all you know

Of collages unto kaleidoscopes
Images breathe on their own

Then go they dancing
Whirlwinds and prancing

O dare be what you are
You are you, loving me

All the day are enchanting friends
Who want their Star,
in the Loving sea

She’d be swimmy splashing, laughing
All Loving and power

Seeing you seeing,
my eternal tomorrows
Painting destinies

In breath,
in love all can be

I know I am that I am
And you are knower of all of me

Would I hop upon the mountaintops
And toil the toilings of your depths

Into the night,
you are the consoler of consolidations

Then they are dancing
Whirlwind and prancing

What of this day,
that tomorrow I don’t see

Tis this the time for wooing of me
Where is the love I give by day

That I doubt in the night
By morn she waits

Am I not form imagined as Love
Giving thy Gifts within thee boundless

I am knower of  knower,
that Love I am and ever shall be

Where are my echoes,
is there anything real,
in what I think I see

Woe the tree who falls,
they say does not be
Woe her squirrels,
woe is me

Do I,
or shall I live a fantasy

For what of time,
would you behold of me
If Love I’d rather be and see

Through whirlwinds,
and in my Garden,
they’d say I be

Just a day away,
tomorrow I’d be dancer

In love,
thee prancer,
every color of thy need

Who hears drumming,
every Heart weaves

The yellow brick road,
where all Rainbows

are

Singing and dancing,
loving and laughing
All Hearts and Hands
of form of dust, a Glistening sea

Today’s thy day
Emerald City be

With the Courage of one foot in tomorrow
Allow yesterday to be but prophecy

For this is the day the All You Know too Sees All You Need

For I am Rainbow dancer, Whirlwind and Love
Delightful prancer, tomorrows beholder

One who would bid your Love Dream be
One of One and Infinite Sea

Crossed wires of me
might be the
Margaritas?
Or the servility
   I bow, non-willingly,
to societal norms?
   I am healthy, physically,
just a swimmy head
   and lots of gas bloating
I swim floundering
at time to times,
  But, not guilty
I feel
   passionate dreams notedly
defy me particularly
        when I accidentally rhyme.
So conflicting
  this non-physical malady,
Paralyses like a Greek tragedy,
Sophocles, I need so badly,
   to diagnosis me.

It was just the two of us against all of the sky’s tears that night. Behind askew glasses and matted hair I watched you seep into the chilly wet darkness and pouring noise, how the iridescent urban glows blurred and blinked through your body, like fairy lights on black satin. You gripped my hollowness by the wrist and I came to respect the force of block falls on touch as you threw my world back on its two feet, not before a brief eternity of giddiness and disbelief. The supposedly accursed head of mine took in the images of shock through raindrop-filled lenses as my body changed direction against my will and gravity. My world was a kaleidoscope of lights and blaring horns, and with your hand around mine it was nothing but a distasteful harmony of passion and discord and it made me smile. You were yelling at me and I looked at you and I laughed. You asked me what I wanted and I begged and chortled and pleaded and giggled for the thousandth time, for you to hurry up and tell me that you don’t need me because I had somewhere else I need to go and even after all of that your grip only got tighter, sinking me into the eye of your storm. But that was just you, wasn’t it? Always ready to swallow me straight into your depths in times of uncertainty. I clutched the sides of your dripping face and I peered into your swimmy eyes to admire the reflection of my own and realized I could not find myself because all I saw was the apex of skyscrapers straight pass through your transparency as pure as the waters of the Maldives Islands on a sunny summer day quite unlike this one, but quite like the summers we spent in school for years walking down hate-filled corridors, fingers entwined and then suddenly I was afraid to touch you. I kicked and I screamed and tore ripples through your skin, begging you once more to pour me out of your hands so they are free to start scrubbing the belittling words off our locker doors, or the spay-painted ****** dripping red on the top of your locker like a store brand, hitting you on the head again and again the fact that not all rain yield desirable crops and yet you still pelted raindrop kisses on every inch of my puffy red cheeks till it was enough to smoothen my dry storm down to a drizzle. It was then I realized I was so, so cold. I looked tiredly down below and I was the Emperor of the gazillion city veins below, the King of the critter cars heading nowhere. I was God, and with that power I summoned it and looked back to earnestly, sahara-driedly request you to forget me once and for all because we are in the end sinners in the eyes of common sense, because you were too stubborn to flow out of the box to realize that I am the mercury leak to your springs, slowly diffusing into you when you spread yourself into every crevice of my body when we cuddle at night, a limitless barrel of radioactivity poured down your throat and all over your shirt in the shadows. You came into my life uninvited, flooded my earths with your torrents and left my world in a waste pool of yellow, but also a warm bed enough to nurse a young forest. I hate the way you swept me off since day one just as much as I love drinking in every last drop of your presence. Your arms wafted around my waist like petrichor and lured me back to safety. The rain on the 74th rooftop was ready to stop, but I was.  At least I wasn't sure.

Closing my eyes, I opted to drown.

just lit out of my pocket are
philosophies like a cigarette puff
on its essence I get swimmy headed,
on Frost's or *******'s,
or Whitman's, ways
and trip away giddy,
a varied revelation inspired by
what they so knew so well,
100's of years ago.
I will light
another.

I will foment a backlash that entails a ******-loving, definitive gaze
like whitey enjoyed during cousin F.D.R.'s boozily-prohibitive days
when hirin' mechanics was mechanically-sound in inoperative bays

The bottom ½ of me loves you
White people are nice even when they got lice
They're so helpfully friendly & giving & at ease,
them honkies that gives you their venereal disease

I drown with the rapidity of Jesus's chosen lackey Swimmy Jaggart,
cosmetically worser off than queer, stinking ****** Merle Haggard

I drown with the rapidity of Jesus's chosen lackey Swimmy Jaggart,
cosmetically worser off than queer, stinking ****** Merle Haggard
who may've ******, country musically, 25 shaking fashion models
in Kenyan Obama's ******* boy bakery baking mashin' fraud holes
betwixt mountains, inside the sugary-sweet smashed valley of voles
Jimmy Paul McCartney had to smother Dot after church as a ******
choir's chorus boy, so in '04 his ****-list of death snuffed Doris Troy
5th-cousin porkin,' polio-******* F.D.R.'s National Recovery Act, at
its start, wanted my lazy-*** folk to "do their part" to "unfart" a ****
Bon jour Frenchy, may your wife get knocked up by a mule skinner
It ain't **** for real, a fish in wife-net stockings durin' a carp dinner
because the mud-vein left in'll upchuck puke to slim her *** thinner
like Clinton on coke or a righteous, Jersey ***** as a former sinner
whose mortal fear of god transformed her into a god-fearing winner