Her dark circles two
In her eyes where
I dove deep
Into
Those black pools
In the center
Of doe eyed
Green
Irises the white cream
Eyes
Attentive
My eyes they studied
Made circles took me
My aura in
Undressed me
Wanted lusted
Sighed her two lips
Parted
Red lush
Almost agony
Time seemed
Sighs became touches of arms
Legs brushing
Dances in
Dim light backlit
From a fire
A flame a
Warmth sound and pure
Nature animal sure
A rushing waterfall a sky of no limits
A mountains tall majesty
A prairie fair spread
Before us
A feast
Of targeted greed need wanton
Abandon together
Just us
And heaven
Envying

away above into

     float if float is possible

with pretty nice people

talking like angels
                                   in prose
into a mystic vision                 where steeples
climb   true   heights
                 where stars are

light and dark is
     a palace

of golden streams
             honey flowing  from

every tongue

free
            money is not needed

All is beautiful.

come  into the day
together and sing with me the song of innocence
of men and women, all sexes
all varieties, all societies ,  see the miracle of
all the diversity
being sung, into the highest dales-
into the concrete streets,
into the uneducation;
among every nation a seed
sown by words and understanding;
whether a poem or painting or politician draws it up,
or a tot calling for us to stop the insanity,
crying this baby does to a fallen angel
or crackhead seeing damnation...
or Jesus himself or Allah,
or me or another MLK,
let us all gather into the woods and see the vastness of the future
when we all are coloring books with oils
or ink or feelings: our blood
no longer spilling-
us

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.

so dearest,
Is time on the
Highway
Blurring black tar
With white lines,
Eyes melding
With lids,
Trying to cling to
The quest,
A song of the rubber
On miles
Keeping beat with
Sirius xm,
A memory of your golden
earring
burning a hole in
My chest ,
Overpassing rest stops
Petrol stations
Cows in the fields,
Such lonely looking
trees bare,
A message in the air,
The sun on the horizon,
Just driving
To you,
there.

You are a goddess
                                             bearing aphorisms,
                     winged words
                descended
                                       from angels
breath
              birthed golden gilded,
                                                                      individual
                Springs ephemeral flowing
                         down verb filled
                              streams of  
                              adjectives,

                       adjuncts to
                 towering majestic
pronouns                             most
                              naked

                in their originality,

                uttered
                      virginal,unstained

          no matter their verse,
            
  immortal,
                             feeling unrestrained.

stare into the *******
   watch with desolation
See the constellations
    but miss the fires
blazing around watch
    the rivers cast
shadows closing in
     burn you down
run
     as the burning trees
and visions
      feel the heat
but not the fire.
        Never see
the desire
         or understand
true love.

I wake and find myself in love:
And this one time I do not doubt.
I only fear, and wander out
To hold long parley with a dove.

The innocent and the guilty, met
Here in the garden, feel no fear.
But I'm afraid of you, my dear.
There was a reason: I forget.

And I by shyness am undone
And can't go out for fear I meet
My poems dancing down the street
Telling your name to everyone.

The lichen peels along the wall.
My conversation bores the dove.
He knows it all: that I'm in love
And you care much and not at all.

I shall stay here and keep my word.
Glumly I wait to marry dust.
It grieves me only that I must
Speak not to you, but to a bird.

**Written by:  Dom Moraes
Dominic Francis "Dom" Moraes (19 July 1938 – 2 June 2004) was an Indian writer and poet who wrote in the English language.

tongue feather tickles
light on ***** *******
sweet but milky faint
feeding from the ****
like loving
a painter or poet
or riding a bike
once you know it
you can never forget.

Equality and the Golden One

Wrote with her hand
scribed a desire so  primal
inside all of us

A union formed of prose
describing an Anthem
a value, reason

without number disavowing
a collective will.
Men are free, Ayn said

In turmoil  Equality and the Golden One
found the tunnel and electricity
and began again

our struggle.

ten beams into the building I knew her
she was the tiller from a seagoing vessel
a sway a leech to the port a missing tender
a long lost vestige of her cargo
the gold the plates
the necklaces traded
all on the bottom
and this tenth beam now holding the center of the floor of
this old building straight and level
had her strength once floating
on a sea ridge a foam of shore
crashed into
and broken apart
and spent and forgotten and under dark tides
was alone
in her failure so long ago
that sent men and cargo to the depths
she staggered again into being
taken from a watery death to live
as the  support
of this
odd sort of haunted structure
proud now and determined
wood finished and raw and old  and bowed yet
stout and proud
and I sensed her ten beams in

lazily lost
to crony capitalism
corporate cobwebs
hunger
unsatisfied
first come served
rich get richer
walls get bigger
the river deeper
the gap is wider
the poor get
poorer
the black get blacker
the rift grows wider
the police get narrower
shootings
more common
more people dying
politicians
appear more frequent
on the TV
and nothing gets better
solved
are the next elections
nothing more

Moist petal flower spread
Those earthen made beautiful
Red wings like
Birds do fly fly out Among the skies
Above
Do not be bound by
Rules or norms no man
Ever made or normality
Or dread
You're silk
You are the songs
Butterfly's
Make
Abandoning
This ground.
Yours are earthen cries
Made heard that change
This world
And come a day then
When unfurled
The sky shall open up
Heaven on this earth.

What may it be? A critic or mass or both sown together
within a sphere explosives around threatening?

An angry oceans of heavy neutrons imploding, or, tell me,
is it the amount of money for the majority
to nuke the minorities from here to eternity?

Is, critical, for now, (I am densely packed), a moral majority erupting to take all of our freedoms?
Is  Uranium or Plutonium being sold ;
by my drug dealer?

I mainlined something. Saw a trillion explosive stars,
or was that just you,
walking into the room?

device
tool gadget peripheral component
   nuclear
heavy metal band
                     pop/
Eons/
albums lay
personally forgotten
United States military
award
I plot ambiguous ,
I devise.

to my therapist:
even she doesn't listen!

in a battle of hymns
synonymous lying
relying
on ***** thrusts,
deep fully orchestrated,
lutes and harps playing
the climbing cries to heaven,
four-part cacophonies
adapting Eastern chants
with Western modalities,
proceeding
altars, of which
ring with decepting cries
force a singular theme,
if not followed
your voice is heard in hell.

Sally says so
often,
Sally feels like a rag doll-
often-
a hope for all the desperate men,
Raggedy Ann,
Lallaloopsy
      burst seamed by reality.
Carelessness- a boneless
girl full of timeworn scrap,
Sally's featureless face
looks only at the past.

Sally says,
it's all in the past,
she used to be the toy of the season,
now,
like Spot Splatter
Splash
she tends to her wrists
and the red ****

A name so colors one, is anyone satisfied with
a nomenclature such as Myrtle or Prudence or
a name that shouts out a particular feature:
like Hogg, or ****.
Who the hell is as lucky as Rene Descartes
or 'scuse me , my favorite, Blaise
Pascal. Wow. I wanna name me next newborn
Papa, see what becomes
do his pals
make fun.
Or, will he or she
suffer
under letters small
and
significant.

The child cut up paper into feathers
A headdress
Another into feathers for a turkey
And the Indian child told the truth
Wept
And his tears were taken like the waters from his ancestors farms
To feather a white nest of
Lies and harm
Today the harm has
Been shrouded like the sun
Behind darknesses
And the native wanders
Alone
And truth cannot stop
The black cloud lies
From darkening
A legacy
Or the forests dying
On horizons
Of tall white
Concrete
Fallacies
Or the proud indigenous
Bearers
Passing into
Dream
Like shadows
In the trees

round and about discovering
the hidden mosses and evergreen
mosses lichens

down on all fours recovering
the bides of soft scenes seen
tosses like soils moist

brown and rich recalling
the times of a youthful dreaming
spent

discovering the
doe romping fertile in her young
youthful nature growing
seeds sowing
this
remembering.

five thirty pm

drool
begins

fast life
zoom
seals in aquariums

burst world
is all
under water

just one small
hit  and

i hear my heart
beat

feel the world
outside

every window
flash lights


it's called
geeking

Searching through my circumcised conceits
ransacking allegorical nature
a more outlandish metaphor
alluding to your eyes glistening,

Though Shakespeare, were he to hear,
would revolve over over again
in his graves, may he feel free
to make jokes of.

I say with poetic assertion
confidence, no other allusion
would come closer to truth,

to my purpose, than me saying,
your eyes contain the sparkle of ten million diamonds:
they are far

far brighter than any sun.

pick corn all day
wear my hands raw
on cotton bolls
redden my neck raw
in the hotness
milk Bessie,
fatten up the golden calf,
or catch the gold of sunsets
the shine of moonshines glistening
or writhe this poem of us,
in a field in spring
me spinning around you
you drinking me in
in this fair field tonight,
me love.

voices manner and off the dock waves splatter
on the beach that night
two steps more we'd have been in love
but we spoke in patterns
waves slow ebbing flows
moon tide growth and glowing embers
stepping close then flowing  back
the night tide growth the
humid strife
we never met
or spent our time
together on these ancient rhymes.
But, in a scent, a moment meant
a drama of a moon crescent,
we'd tried to touch like mariners
the sea and all her
frothy crests.

amore hear the melody of....
       again again anon anon
bring a symphony of love
   to my ears sing with
perfect pitch the perfect song
     to the perfect end.

pause...... repose
   then here the flautist's
feathered twill
      the bass driving
the beat we tap our hearts
    together to

french horns and clarinets
     bringing fullness to the song of....
amore  amore...
  ever building the suspense

 to a mutual end.

Spent, we cry,

          Bravo!   Bravo!

up among the violet of a Wisteria vine
among all the dogwood blooming white
sat one Yellow-breasted chat
heard but not seen

calling a mate from another nest
all day long he hid
and trysted with a variety of his
fellows mates

when he returned to his nest he
rested until
Mrs Yellow-breast chat smelled

a faint odor of slight perfume
on his beak
saw his eyes flutter

knew he was not out chasing worms

she more than laid
an egg

I let loose of  inhibitions, became bigger 'n all those Dragons
on hit or puff or snort or swallowed **** or crack
is like inhaling gas then haunting through the night peeps
or stealing tabs from the old lady next door to sell for substances
more enjoyable peruse my *******
life  of using with me
ecstasy was costing me way too much.
I give thanks to god almighty,
I was always afraid of needles, I would have died as sure as swallowing
a slug from a 45 colt down my throat.
I get off on internet poems,
but never deny where I came from.
I hope for all,
to be also free,
from that.

her eyes were blond
a breast of Valentines
awestruck, we was by
*** that stuck out into yesterday and a face that
would make you     kiss her dad,
a friend of mine, stuck an elbow
into my rib and said, she's lookin'
at you. I knew she was.
But, was it because i was droolin'

taffylike I sat melting
in my blue jeans
as she took my hand
and we gulped
the last sips of our Black Jack
and chugged the dregs of our tall Buds
I was already there

We ended up on the beach
running barefooted
nothing but endlesses seemed to wave on the dark seas
as our breath ran out fell
together
like two seagulls
on a crust of bread

a part of me is still there
now
and the stars flicker and waves crash
again
when I am alone
not ever dimmed
by time
or her leaving

so I smoked my pint of tea
googled culture
discovered I had to join society
or fill out five hundred forms
to join the human race
got transmitted STd's and itchy
things
or had to pierce painful things
fake my ethnicity
or ******* cut my hair
or drink in smoky rooms
stumble around learn to play games
to get to know her be fake
say I am a doctor wanna free Pap-smear dear?
And then even with my resisting
found out I Kant

when you said you loved me
    as a friend.

in erectile functions or asexually
the ideas that give meanings or rises
or raise the honor guards rifles;

complicate the pool with lust genes
surprise me in profundity
or praise the humble

help yourself by helping another
don't accept blindly what is handed out
consider the futility

of grandness in you and houses and material things
just once
let it

reproduce
a kinder heart in us in me
in you

She is a
                daisy
blooming madly
                yellow
topped evasive
                thin
stem standing
                fragrant
as a spring my
                 daisy
rhyme covered
                 posing
proudly my daisy
                 poses
and I breathe
                 because
of her flowery
                 fragrance.

somewhere someone
lies in wait
to judge all my
infidelities.

With a scale of morality
he will weigh and balance
indiscretions
against good deeds.

I gave to a homeless family -
dinner. I ******* my best friend's girl.

Is my time balanced,
or is sin irrevocable?

Either way, I am at peace.
Good deeds and sin, I decided,
are part of human nature's
two sided duality.

Cruelty and empathy
love and hate
desperate and giving
we all need forgiving.

In the end,
If you ask me,
The judge will decide, who is correct?
the rest.

planned schizoid prosody perchance
post-haste  a Pastoral providence
psychotic pathos that infects please,
the permanence of the promise
praise the Prometheus stealing
the flame
against the will of Zeus feeding
the fire of man:
proffer in the remaining pursuit
of posting in a poetical
perchance.Pursue!

Into a Dollar General I brave
scalp and pillage
looking for a new hatchet, a new pair of mocassins,
a cheap gift for Pocahontas!
Only went to the General,
because my horse was tired and overfilled,
with Thanksgiving oats and felt weird in the pilgrim hat I had on his head.
was too far to go all the way to Wal-Mart.

asset reallocating
     is last in first out
the last out tends
        to be left out
accounting and all
   the receipt records keeping
is a hat full
      my head gets weighted down
keeping track of
   so Accounts receivable, are
archived while I burn
    the Accounts Payable.

what have the fingers to say
with their anonymous scribblings when
I close my eyes and let them fly
thinking mostly with fingernails
on a chalkboard just letting them cry
I don't  outline my subject or have a theme when I
wash my hands stretch my digits out
let them loose to do their texting
watch dense as mercury on Mars from here
their words surprising the meaning come from behind
the aching tendonitis the arthritis spasms
those fingerprints on the keys of my worn off identity
I claim nothing
almost not me

The truest love i have been witness to
is heartbreaking, so destitute,
but, resonates still in my head,
And happened just last week.

In a trash filled trailer
on a trash filled street,
broken windows no electric,
a crackhead I knew
gave his last hit,
to his new best friend.

which period shall I resound the four
verses one, the rhyme?  shall I use parentheses
or just write free, might I space
or italicize or leave this un-glamorized?

I walk down the long six-story concrete steps
a step at a time divining
the barren apartment
the govt spends
its money on above hovering

You think I want to live here
in this danger rat infestation
its free but that don't make me happy
I have a baby
and the world calls me a freeloader

obviously, I have decided to
write this in stanzas
it doesn't flow like the steps
this woman walks down daily
I do my best

sometimes I sleep with men when the cupboards bare
I decided to break the flow up

for why
I don't know

I have gone two weeks without diapers before and my baby
I would do anything for her so don't judge me. I
am not a *****.

I am trying to survive.  

Again I interrupt her story to inject-
poetry has to make a difference, it often doesn't rhyme, it
isn't made to be  syllables and meters.
It is to make a difference. Let me shut up.
let her speak.

I didn't mean to bring a child into this hell. But I gave in
to one night of weakness, Now I am stuck  on the sixth floor here in this bleak *** building with no hope no
idea how I might make her life better.
I have tried god.

All I have now are the streets.

The streets are brutal.

I get the Oedipus theme
he killed his dad and had four
kids with his mom
and she hung herself and he
stuck something in his eyes
I dont get
the  reasons a man wrote this
or Freud named a complex after it.
Jocasta was innocent
high
I guess
lonely
and this guy walked in....

alone
just me
in skin in bone
a collection of neurons
spinning protons
a dance of
small components
one in the spinning
universe
a plastic plasma thing
able to comprehend
I think
the thrill
of this given ability
to touch
another
living
human
being

The holder of thine heart which lacks within my breast
resides beating, beating, beating
in your *****.
To love, to, love again,
is there in sighs and heaving,
to no others breath I will listen,
nearing religion, in devoting my soul
to those bounteous fruits of you fully grown
womanhood calling to me.
Thee, that shines upon my eyes, my deafness now hears,
resumes a life of woe un-abating,
now ticks again.
Now upon thy *****, my head rests hearing, reasons
for being again.

ten miles into the woods where the retort
would not be heard
he jumped off a bridge
where  none  had stood

he was where he went when it all got to be too
much, his refuge, infirmary
and I guess he saw
it all as too much

finally
but, he left two little ones wondering
was it their fault
and questioning doubts
the rest of their lives

I used to respect him and thought
about him as a gentleman
and how he represented an
upstanding  family man,
I guess I was mistaken

Peace of not many years  we
forgot those unheard.
Who gave their all?  in wars we fight one after another?
Goodbye, we think
we have said;   Thank you
we decide we have said, enough.
To ease our common conscience.
But, isn't it all too late?
When the cold is written on the paper about
the brains in pieces?
Killed  by deaf ears passing, ignoring
the screams, down
to the next
generation?
Going unanswered.
Often unmentioned.
We stand hand on heart on Memorial day.
We salute with abandon.
Thinking we give a tribute worthy of the sacrifice given.
Those who screamed into deaf ears
abandoned. Alone .
They gave their
all.

I know you have loved to where it hurt like the guitar strings
pulled twisted plucked cried out to an audience at the Fillmore
or had that backbeat inside the bass the drums
saying **** me
cried out like the lead singer
have you ever loved more
inside your heart torn outside becoming in
as the melody sang about
some love in two tones
you took it to heart
deep
understood again
how magically the words were
somehow
written
just for you

If you've
     Ever had a dream,
           Like i do
Feeling real as anything,
      Believing
             It will soon come true,
   Well, i do.
Dangling barefoot in a stream,
       Every sunbeam
              meant for you,
       Thats what I mean,
    And you've wanted all your
            Days, to dream this way
      Sharing caring with
             The sun,
  Holding hands in beams of love,
           Knowing all the wait
    Is over, and the nights
                Will be so warmer,
            a dream
                    Come true
                         Forever,
                       I do.

may be right, he he
need does push one in a way and food stamps
    and medicaid teach us to be lazy
they say sink or swim and the cream will float to the top
       when all gotta eat I SAY
if mine  if anyone I know is going hungry
                    I will steal for them.
Let economics reign. Demand and supply
are but a graph.

cosmetic, are the ways we decide
to be or not to be:
excuse that;
falsehood is realty, sales are all we seek.

democratic, economic senses
falsely impersonate with  store bought ****
lifted faces

money is enough when selling or buying
push it to get the best deal
it 's common sense

I see traces though, of
humility, when looking at faces.
Can't seem to play the game?