handfuls of hair,
toungues,
teeth.
the curving air;
alive
in rooms
with hanging doors.
we feast.

our rolling eyes,
shaking lips,
hips.
tremble
under fingertips,
taste the heat
and melt.

we press.
wasting no time
for breath.
it happens.
it happens.
it happens!

handfuls of hair,
toungues,
teeth.
the curving air;
alive
in rooms
with hanging doors.
we feast.

our rolling eyes,
shaking lips,
hips.
tremble
under fingertips,
taste the heat
and melt.

we press.
wasting no time
for breath.
it happens.
it happens.
it happens!

Men who look like ferris wheels
every color representing different aspects of their personality

The first three words don't have to be beautiful
they just have to make sense
like connecting dots on paper

men who love with their fists
and hate with their mouths
who once were boys taking things apart
like remote controls their own fathers used to beat     Obedience into their small bodies.  Left them with a fury tattooed across their hearts
Just to give them the challenge of putting themselves back together

They buy their wive's flowers after
a four day bruise isn't so glaringly purple anymore
not so accusing-
kiss her broken ribs
and tell their children midnight stories

children trained as mood detectors
human robots
know when to shutup
speak when you are spoken to*

Men who speak like cutting boards
Every slice of the knives in their toungues leave
hollow aching missing parts
just to teach their children that not all
things can be put together once taken apart

whose daughter glues together the parts of old telephones
to spite the missing pieces
so every welt he beats into her bones
she sings herself unbroken
until she stands robust and imperfect
there are holes in her armour
but she holds it together

with her fathers fists.

In lumbering night shadows,
between burns by branding irons
like cigarettes,
We blister talking toungues
and reveal the soft flesh
of ourselves.
So easily, our embers
make incense of our arms
and red, wet, wounds
pool beneath the wrist.
We sat for time,
trying not to scab over;
smouldering our speech
with singeing ire.
Despite the heat,
we couldn’t help
but heal
as dawn cracked, and
in fire of the light,
with hammering heads,
we forged scars
for each other,
for each ever.

Though they have
Different tongues
All religions
Have the same speech,
Peace,Love, Considerateness
And Hope
Are what each preach!

Is it not  then
A glitch
Under the guise of religion
To teach
"Spell death!'
To s/he who has
a different faith!

Her's is a story
One worth a listen
She'd walk past
And man how she'd shine... how she'd glisten
A beauty of sorts
In street lingo... 'hot'
She'd have toungues in knots... nervous men
Dry throats
But her story does not end so well... she blew it
Problem was, she was hot as hell... and she knew it
Her ego was big, and still this girl grew it
Her response to advice was usually "***** it"
If it was bad and immoral you bet she would do it
Her actions eventually caught up with her
She did not just 'get slapped' by life... it beat her
It hit her with sense
Too late though... she seems to die by the day
By the booz, by the drugs
She misses her mother's affectionate hugs
Her mother disowned her
After her first **** claimed he owned her
Now she wakes up by chance
Smells death all around her
Sad story for one who was once goddess intense.

Lips move in frenzy and I start to drift.
All fall out of sync and the loudness is swift.
A train passes by as mine derails.
I pull the brake but the friction fails.
I see many faces alive but they bleed.
They still shout with an unfathomable creed.
Back in the mass again where I was,
I feel uneasy to know that there’s no pause.
A cloudless sky runs with haste.
I see people eating with no sense of taste.
Surrounded with the filth I begin to wonder,
If in this storm there ever was a thunder.
I lock my jaws and unlock my mind,
with numerous toungues spelling curses behind.
I infer, I dceree and I pass my chance,
leaving my inmates with a courteous glance.
Now I am happy and I kiss my luck,
blaming the noise with which I was stuck.
I see a doctor to ask for a cure.
He sounds pretty sound and he knows it for sure.
In his words he tries to be quite precise,
”They talk a little crazy disproportionate to their size,
of things they know and out of their sight.
They run with a torch that bears no light.
They laugh, they mock and hinder your way.
They bet their back as much as they may.
They mumble, they chatter, they faulter and sigh.
They look back a lot to disguise a lie.
To hide their faces they wear those masks.
They’ll answer to all even if no one asks.
Their demeanor to you looks absurd because
according to them, ‘the effect precedes the cause’.
They always get paid to wear and tear.
It’s in silence they die. It’s loneliness they fear.”

I knew the feel of paridise, the day you held me in your arms,
pulling me close to this ethreal world that only existed at the edges of my fantasies
That stormy night  we conceived a bond,
I remember you rested your head on my womb and named her dawn,
you said someday our dawn would come,
Some day I will hold you before them,  right under the harvest moon
they will let me dance with you....
In all truth never in my life had I been in the presence of royalty,
walked down the red carpet till the very hour I laid my eyes on you,
the sight of you, the idea of you......
Never in my life had I seen the perfect setting of a sun, sea gulls fleeting through the skies, purple blue birds midsky.....
Oh my my my a black prince had just kissed somewhere inside of me
I knew the feel, the sound, the taste of paridise the day our hearts embraced like the skies embrace the seas,
I could swear I saw them kissing, toungues dancing, exchanging breathes conceiving the perfect horizon
Me and you afar in the horizon shadowing my mind,
like the desert sands embrace the rains letting them belong, burying them somewhere deep within....I knew.



no words......

I wonder perhaps
If I would rather be a cat
Rough toungues licking up milk
Playful with colorful yarns
The only sorrow I would know then is the emptiness of a food bowl.

Genetic DIY in my realm,
Glow, little glow worm, glow puppy or guppy or
maiden hair, modded to the max-men can
imagine, when agreeing to believe.

"nothing
imagined shall be impossible for them"
or the sense
that makes,

conveyed in words di
gestated long long long ago
ere toungues was tangled
and us and es and ds and hs and bvs

umlauts and tildes and tittles and jots
attempted to say it all after
it is written is/was
different than it is/was said, it is common

filth is now
called clean, in greek

with homophony rhymes and rhythms
'idin' aitches and gees us commoners
miss, out on the edges of the
fusion, with which,
those wild tongues was tamed, in time,
write the message, make it plain

in the school of the prophets, thems' the rules,
publish precizision bits of insight into knowables
known,
the knowledge of our
mob, told and re-told, told and retold, told and re
one moment.
A glimpse of a gleam of a photonic
spec, seen proper,
it was a germ-cell mod, in a word.

Spat, rather than spoken. A message at the level

where you nowgno this is possible -- a flick
of a gene switch on the ladder like
structure bhering message-engers up and down,

instructing structures to form frames on which you
may sublimate and recompose, upon a grain
of pre-pearl material,

pending loosing of that pen-ultimate lie.

Look, who's tellin' what to whom?
Like, Do Not Lose The Thread of History,

which happens to need re-tying,
from time to time,
like a shoe, yes, child, like a shoe.

Worthy to tie my own shoe, at two---
you d'man! Ex-clam, pure pearl polished

Big Boy, tied yo'own shoe,

Momma gonna buy you a diamond farm,

just over that hill,
you go see, someday, you will

Find a Diamond Farm, where the reality
of what coud be,
began to gestate, wait, diamonds are not for

ever.
Diamonds are for grinding gritty silicon to the
finest dust,

to force a sneeze, re
leasing, loosing, letting go, all the lies you knew,

to chew
well, raw liver-level, nasty tastin' pre-
digested crap from alchemical rantings
a guy said he seen
after some spit from a perfect stranger
got rubbed in to his eye,
pearly friction feels this way,
can't scratch it, gotta gum it,
roll it round
and round, like Redman,
or cow cud, a chaw,
a chew

someunsame, somesamesame sniffles,
in my realm,

swallow the final chawn and un spat lie,
and gasp at first glimpse of next.

The unlayering of a soul
Like the drawback of an old beautiful curtain
Dusty and covered in a masquerade of golden tassles
Hiding the depth behind
And when they uncover
Unmask
Choose to perform
My eyes and heart are captivated
By the magic that is in stuttering toungues and loud cackles
Long stories and love poems


I came to tell my story
And my ears were much happier after
Having soaked in the noise of humanity
The sound of souls
A room full of souls


And I have been in those empty rooms before
Those rooms silent and eager for more space
Rooms echoing with soulless disconnection
And these people are not soulless but they do not give themselves up
don't give themselves freedom to be those souls

And I can only relate to people who have that soul
Who have the depth the expanse, the mind, the breadth to express
Their innermost pains, joys
And a room that is soulfull
Accepts
And a drawback of curtains
Assumes no judgement
For why would there be?
What would there be to judge?

I used to cry about feeling like a stranger in my own home
Then feeling guilty for being sorry for myself
And throwing up a pity party when no other life is better than mine
and so many people have it worse in many ways
we know what it feel like to live in a world where you feel you never belong
Then to be faced with a room, heart beating a mile a minute, knowing the curtains will be drawn back and you will have to face the music of your own

I saw a woman today, with a face filled with so much love it was glowing
A love that made me want to love everything
And I know everything isn’t what it seems
But poetry is all about that seem
That perspective
From afar


As my arrow gets pulled far back into depths of deep internal demons
I am now being tossed into the universe
Endlessly
No aim
Fired off into the moving air
I feel like a plastic bag
Im flying by city lights
And city dreams
Hoping for answers hidden in the trees


Sunflowers have been planted
But it will be winter soon
Roots are growing, sprouting little buds of green
Not blooming yet
But there is growth
And strength in the little brown sprouted roots

The prongs swept through my damp hair
As i plugged in the TV there was a light shock
and the blue flooded my room with a glare

I sank into the blankets
and into my head

I began to have a dream or so I perceived

Standing in front of a supermarket
In the hot sun
Waiting for my family to shop

I am watching the cars along the road, as my family's car speeds toward the interstate

Yellow lines moving beside me as i try and chase them
they never turned around

I wander down the sidewalk til i come to a small burgundy car
the windows are broken

I relax in the backseat for hours
until i pass out

I wake up and it is humid
the car is moving

Nobody is in the front seat

all of a sudden there is a steep drop and the car is pummeling down a hill into a forest of redwoods,
Crashed on the rocks

A man pulls me from the backseat

at first I feel a sense of comfort,

then his face shows, distorted, speaking ancient evil toungues

I try to grasp air and be free
next thing i remember I am awake.