Oh the laughing sisters
And mustached misters
Clad in diamonds that
Glare as I stare
Out on the diamond ocean
Saying I never loved a lady
Like the one that got away
She said she could not obey
But the praying ministers
With their naked chuckling
Alright I see through this sky
I am alone without myself here
And I am free to live as live can be
Without itself I am nothing but you
Torn apart without money or a face
And is this part of the story too hard
To bear?
I ask not in question but in query of
Where we have no permission to lie
Cornered by the man in yellow who
Dances without smile or frown
And here in this hotel room where
The window is cracked and the
Waiter is crowned and gone
Neither night is clear or morning sincere
I mention this for her and not for me or
You in sight the kite's string is tight
Tell me love how long I can live for
Please I beg I plead and I realize that
In this place for truth fortune mentions not
Dictionary definitions for love and
For hate and for
Nonsensical bottom feeding trash heaps where
Art is put on the heads of the ones that
Only will to create for this land is too
Heavy in heat and fire and brimstone and
The prophet chuckles in a breathy beurocratic way
Telling everything that shouldn't have been said
On the death of Him He was released from himself
I had left him for another time, another place
Withholding the help nature had given him
Chaos had plagued Him with
People had forced Him to live up too
Cadence in the most convaluted form
Lonesome hard times in Old New York Town where
I never been but I soon wish to see where
Dreams sail through the air like ol' Fall leaves and
Ghosts of Christmas Eve in sorrowful moves
The ones where we used to whisper and see and been
So I see no heart when they eyes are broken and
The mention of the ear ache where the Baron paid
His last debt and saw too much war and the women
With their braids, their whiskey, and their beads told
Out to the God that said would save them that He
Lied and He pried into their children's minds wherein
I saw fate and death and life all wrapped into one
Infinite lines scribbled long with a fine young four year old
Eyes of an angel and the hands of million year old man
Genius in the crowd and genius in hell
Longing for a fate different from their own
Alone with a tomb of stone white water drowning and alone
Underneath the near farewell in a kiss that stings like a bee
That carries you through life like having your own pair of wings
And the hotel you mention is not where I been
The place where I'm going ain't death or buried or the least bit scary
I tell the place where I'm going for her and her only
So at the station praise all that is here and in life where she hast been
History mentions the victors as the piano screams and yells
But lo' the man that shows fear in the eye
In heart through itself heat praises poor for more
She envelopes each note from the piano that falls from the sky
A kiss where envious jealousy once did reside
Know not where the bullet came from
Know not where absence is obsessed with itself
Hard as a rock in the souls of the highest bidder
Longing for purpose and reason and sentence
Trusting that this is not the life you were supposed to lead
And in that you see the truth where it is vile and
Covered in the stink of rotten war torn vermin
Linking the past to the future and the future to the present
Sinister in the melancholia of us men and us women
We present the unpresentable as the need for going on
Where gone nature would continue all the more blissful and
Peaceful and meaningful
Terror in the hearts of man like a firecracker in the mouth of a frog
Each minute races through the thicket dumb waiter
Franz reveals the trick behind the pen
Bob behind the song
Aching for a salvation that will only come in death
Just for the blues and only for it
Telling the last tale of man that will never be heard
Pushing through your shell of a body a cage
A barracks filled with no faced soldiers
Men and women without names
People without purpose
A light at the end of the tunnel
But in the ruins of the mind of man forgotten
Dreams of double temper tantrums re-awake in
Time each tick of the clock of the ever glade
So serene in the eyes of the ones we wish not to be
Crowded dreams in desire for the work is there
But the hard nosed preachers predict the death of man kind
And God with his ticket that shines in the sun
Tells himself the world was meant and created for fun
Wrapped in the down turning world that spirals fast
For it knows that love and life cannot infinitely last
So in the turning of the hour each night I ee I let go
Cornered by mans imagination that boxes even the largest
Hardest roughest toughest ******* with the mall type
Insurance that says if you live to this point you are then granted worthiness
Caught in the block of tepid eyes that frollock in the wake of midnight
Diamonds on the streets of the city but everyone is too busy
To mention their desire for another kind of life
The dice has fallen and we sit around waiting to see where it will land
But its Ok I see now why you have to go
I am blind in the heart but I'll know soon where to start

The problem is––
when I see your face
I see a question,
one
unanswerable to me
or to anyone.

Your eyes desire
this thing.
A thing physically
unpresentable,
and yet you are
undeterrable
in your quest
to possess
this "thing,"
which I can tell you
does not exist.

I am not it
yet somehow I feel
you see
me as a key
to "it"
and this
melts me,
because I too
once searched
but have since
ceased.

We both sought ((?))
but at different
times, now
we meet and some
comfort does lie
in knowing
people still
search.

"You're handsome nephew, how are you single?"
Im not auntie, but thanks for the compliment.
I know mirrors lie and photographs exaggerate
But I'm not when i say I've never felt any reason
To truly believe that statement
Its grated into my head that I'm... just there in all reality
Not exemplary, not on the other side of unpresentable
Just... there.

"But you're so sweet anyone would be lucky to have you!"

I mean i try to not be an inconsiderate pile of garbage because that's not how i was raised to behave but for some reason not being argumentative over the littlest things or going out cheating is misconstrued as a lack of testosterone or an unwillingness to stand up for myself or my own... that's part of why i take my feelings out not on my S.O. but in poems...

"You'll find someone eventually!"
I appreciate the thought but i doubt it seriously
I'm serially alone, which someone will have to work a near miracle to overcome
But no one is gonna do that, so alone I'll remain like i live on the other side of the sun

do you have a secret space?
Where you sit alone
talk to the walls ,asking
why your life is this miserable

i do have one which,
everybody knows ,but
still are unaware about it
and  which i don't wanna tell  

sharing in there all
my happiness and grief
make me so contend
like a child in mothers lap

whatever be my situation
i just led my way to my
secret space and just spill
all of my thoughts

telling the important
thoughts to unwanted stuff
made me realise there
importance to me

all the unpresentable,unimportant
unusable and unconsumed
stuff lend their ears to me to
listen me in complete peace

i am very thankful to them
with whom all my secrets
are kept and never transmitted
to another one

can you recognize my secret space
whose name is undiscovered till now.