I got three kitties worrying their mama.  Tonight they began  moving around  playing and climbing up couches and biting each others bellies and mama was so fretting. I told her , as I picked her up and put her on my keyboard , that was you once , she laid down and seemed to get calm. She heard me when I said that you were small once, just starting out, Babay. Then you grew up , and gave me these. It will all be ok. She purred and with her paw touched the keyboard, typing, an exclamation point!

I got three kitties worrying their mama.  Tonight they began  moving around  playing and climbing up couches and biting each others bellies and mama was so fretting. I told her , as I picked her up and put her on my keyboard , that was you once , she laid down and seemed to get calm. She heard me when I said that you were small once, just starting out, Babay. Then you grew up , and gave me these. It will all be ok. She purred and with her paw touched the keyboard, typing, an exclamation point!

fated , seemingly to
draw human verbs out of
symmetry
in nature
homonyms
and culture
right now I sculpted a kiss out of aluminum
cans and bubble gum wrappers I found
under my couch
crafted a verb
standing proud shiny and sticky
stuck it on my mail box
the mail woman will be
surprised!!!!!

what will I create tonight?
a question uttered in my head-
will it flower or fall dead?

echo in delight or encounter dread?
all is open, I question me again,
what is the purpose?

what may this pursuit bring into being?
Imagining worlds of words and inner voices
magical or hauntingly.

what do I refer to, when I talk of something
not real or sensible, but need so god ******  much
people do **** for

we hopefully feel it like the need of a newborn to
cry and breathe, to wriggle for and seek
only hours old

written in song and  themes of novels
and tragedy wrapped up into poems with
roses thornless

Or affairs we do casually take lighter than
a coffee  break as we laugh at the young
things feeling it all out

And the body human the Mother Earth if
not for it would not revolve , and the  poet  
would not rhyme

And Philosophy would have never been born
a thinking man who thought of it all might
be just a normal man

Anyone say they are sorry,
               Anymore.

Almost 2 am

constance of symmetry headlong bounded
by chance the wierd the happenstance the time
it wanders off course the stray occassions
when ones senses of self has doubt or brief
times when reality seems to cease quit
morph into ten words per line apostrophe

is there a condition
where one can overdose on empathy
on caring
until tears become a malady

Until others hearts
are nearly more important
than ours
and we **** up our life

is that or
could it be an addiction
to seek maybe sad things
and others pain

subconsciously
trying to alleviate
our own?

I am wondering
if I need an intervention.

give common leeway \differences
accepted \ egos interrupt \
ten million opinions\
what title do I lose\
two people do\ behind closed doors\
shall it be the public's\
life \ get a room\ and
I don't try to look in the window\
or under any door\I try to look \
kind of around them\
into why\
I am not perfect\
I suspect but don't judge\
that neither are you\
tonight\ this second I sell\
pens under water\ and gills in the sky\
dresses to he men\
and swords to he shes\
and penises to whoever needs one\
to make themself feel better.

she meant all to

used to be

in the heart that beats

now I am

just a fond memory

in that

cold hearted

#$^(&

.

the day I hated the world
I wanted to squeeze lemonade
out of sunshines' smiles
fill a rose colored glass
with **** positiveness pour
the saying win-win in the
******* toilet while flushing,
and regurgitating-
rip all the signs down advertising
merchandising commercializing
proselytizing -take Nancy Grace's
annoying know it all *** on
face to face and pull some ignorant *****
asscheeks over their ears, **** in
their neck-
rip all the sermons of every preacher
to pieces,
choke world leaders with
**** and peace while all the
broken threads of promises
on their watch haunted from
graves and holocausts and
mass killings and enslaved
blacks indians
whoever you don't like,  
the weak, gays liberals skinheads
Vietnam Vets
old people graying alone dogs
with rabies vampires of society drunks
****** lonely sub-culture types wearing no shoes
no hopes and no dreams buy because of you
, because of culture to be in, in the crowd
of popularity once like a Warhol prediction
getting their 15 minutes
at the aim of a politician policeman radical Islamic terrorist
or the freaking nut down the  street with an AR-15 and 100,000
reasons to go mad.

10 seconds
too long
1/6 of a minute
wrong
rearrange priorities
don't risk
unnecessarily
true love
or stare
too long
at the
sun.

Ten words in I knew it'd
Be a ******* dud

Food.
Beer.
*******.
Cheer.
Pie,
Thighs.
Oxygen.
Yesterday.
Today.
Tomorrow!

What sonnet drowning in I have drank again?
For the 119th time. It's taste sweeter than ,
the siren tears saltier,
my heart feeling more.
Replay thy fears and conquer.
Sir, your and mine hearts are committed,
woven,  in errors ringing,
sin, desires.
That is, My Sir, greatest Bard,
is drowning the silence out.
Oh, God of words,
you won.
I am understanding,
one 119th part
of your genius.

I breezed thru and coalesced in reality
reminding me that i said i did when
virtually I did not, I a stump over many months
like a hibernating bear(ish) bore
ask to  cleave unto your remaining wisdoms
and plus I love you more.
so, claim me, frisk me to see I am(mo)
unarmed,
play me tunes of desamor or elvis
I don't care which.
Watch at me whilst I peek you
say hello when you mean bless you
stray from your regular course
meet me on the 18th hole
of the country club after your other goes
homes.

1   vowel
lies
no constrictions indicating syllabic peaks
like a
dot.

1  consonant
is
basically nasally flowing
pronounced at the front of the
tongue.

Both,
equally,

refer to letters of the alphabet.

correspond to sounds made ******
all along our way.

but, all vowels and consonants
without hearing their relevance.

are
deaf
and

dumb.

W

Put your hands up, walk back slowly, suspects of what?

We were driving through Louisiana, returning to Alabama
after  visiting a dying friend.

The Highway Patrol doing, I guess their duty,
got behind us, we saw it coming in the rear-view mirror.

We braced, knowing two black men, only
riding I-20, because of our skin color, in 2014, were suspect.

Stopped, we told our stories, since they were the same,
we were just given a ticket, DWB.

Drivin' while Black.

two years from now I just feel will be the one
the year when I find peace and the world stops revolving
around me
I will become fully mature and total
I will finally grow up
I will be
with no wants or needs  
no storms or seeds to sow
no fight left no war
no scars and issues
just tissue
just flesh and blood
just sinew
and then may I become
and then melt into
and then be one with all
or feel hurt without getting angry
or be honorable without needing praise
or be charitable just because
I am new
and I am calm
and I am better
and I have grown
it is 2018 when this all might become
or rather 2017
December 31
my resolution

I slept in late because my E-butler germanium
crystles had leaked from his
Titanium clock
and you know  how those
time sleep castles work
so I missed  your v-mail
darling
just give me a minute to take my breakfast pills
I need to cut down on my calories
my head barely fits on the Apple I-*** 9
i have. I need to buy that latest one the Apple 13,
but my crystal orb of credit has been hacked
again
and the league of justifiers
and credit robots are of no help
can we make it tonight?
Our virtual meeting. My USB stick is hard and ready.
I can see your port is glistening.
Okay I will turn off the light show
of the large Magellanic cloud, I know how your eye LED's get.
Can we listen to some oldies though?
I heard this sound warp the other day
sounded so new.
Alexa said it was Classic Rock.

Every,
     ****.
I just
    wasted
2(w)'s
    I guess
I am
    no good
at this,
    four ******' teen
wasted. Or 24(w) ****.

war is ****

So much I strived for
missing....
a tender touch of
us... does
turn me on then, it
******
me off, on guard from
changes.
You allowed me to
say no,
my  listening then
to chords,
of dissonance blue
loose discord true.

like a building without a facade
a church without a door
I stammer
utter a false prologue
made up in a backyard of days
past
sandbox hopes red skins sweltering
where we never tired
just played
with matchbox cars
and saved all our popsicle sticks
making lanes
in the dirt
until  mama called dinner
and we ate pork chops beaming
those days I cherish
now I
sit on the couch
reminiscing

I gave the old man my knife
he cut the bread
we shared it through
the kingdom far

he was Sunni
I a Shiite
our children ate together

Muhammad
sat at the table
the date 632 AD
our difference
I said at the time
Hoseph , such a small qualm

he sat glaring in indifference
as if
I was a different religion
an invading sect

to this day our children grow up in hate
share never the bread or
the wisdom

but hate

and is it what Muhammad said ?

Hate **** desecrate my sacred memory?

Time has told, unfortunate.

4 thru 12
in the midst of Detroit suburbia
hot burn the 67 nights and fear
shot thru my night for I but a young
one naive saw the elders, saw through them the need for fright-
and saw pictures of fire and infernal desire
that burnt my inside skulls hide
and made me to this day run and hide
close they showed  on 6 o'clock news
were souls from hell the dour days
they burnt they neighbors and brought the guard to put them stoutly into place
and shot shoots hot into my very soul
unknown to me ,I was a young naive boy,
was the reason man turns against man in
fire then loots souls mercilessly lost in me,
confused and no believing excuses or religion,
when man turned against man, and fire reigns, was for me the time for a new  coalition. An absolution that once burnt my brain I would understand.

With the certainties put in my head
by prophets so knowing
that a heaven of eighteen virgins
awaits me
I am glad, and certain

To crash this Boeing 737
into your ******* head.

in the shade here in southeast Alabama haze
even the red clay melts under your feet,
why we don't wander 'round,
it's quite the same  year after year,
but no one gets used to it all, ever.

The  kittens corn cotton peanuts all seeking a semblance of
shade under old rusty cars or tractors or steel
silos, our skyscrapers here in the wiregrass.

Everyone, scantilly clad as possible, girls in shorts and bras dudes all sweaty bare chests, the corn baking in the heat the cotton awaiting a cooler day to burst out, peanuts hiding underground.

The roads asphalt melting and look far away you see the heat waves
dancing to the sun upon a grey distance, which no one here ever gets to meet, or go to the dance or even approach.

The future is encroaching here though. Most all of us seek cool in what the big cities do. And end up in an air conditioned cell.
addicted to cool.
Or, just something to do?

the body knows
the outside
percepts of
hallucination direct
in realism
or skepticism.
the world
spins real
and in perception
and intuitions
luck plays its' part!

just one parting
thought,
the last word,
in this Shakespearean
love affair, I should have known,
seen by your actions,
by your slithering around,
striking everyone with
that forked but so beautiful
tongue, how
that meant, not everyone else was
wrong, as you said, and you had
one chain and ball already.
No matter what you said,
you never needed another.

childhood happy
our loving parents'  arms provided
safe and sound
when we  were sprouts undivided
from them
all needs-wants at our beckon call
to recall
is a blessing from life and all
the years
that have passed and disappeared
cannot
won't remove those times
for me

it takes an immense amount of time and
energy to think about it, so, I try
to live here and then now,
just living it
not reminiscing or planning
the next move,
It leads to a bad credit rating,
broke up relationships,
many clothes and record
collections burned,
I still mourn, just not as often
the loss of my Air Jordans'
my favorite blue jeans,
my notebook with drawings of
my next tattoo and
my Grateful Dead Lp's ,
and my I -phone
I just bought, that ounce
I had hid in those jeans,
along with several contacts
and her picture,
but in the now I see,
a big fire.

A bite of cheese washed down by chocolates
sweet intense remain in my senses
for ever.

A dream I once  had dreamy
asleep woke me with the smell of the sweetest
perfumed.
I stood.

Her,
love we made, smooth
gracefully tasting each others sweet
and bitter and sharps
shuddered intense

awakened, in a dream
i stay, remember her taste her smells.
She I still taste, smell, feel.

in her hair I figured
all along the strands down to her bangs
I lingered along the lashes
became a vision
leaked down a cheek fell onto
her silky neck
became a molecule came into her
blood flowed down her heart
pumped me into her toes as they curled
traveled vascular
up her spine-tingling and came
smiling out the corner of her mouth
a wet spot
next to the corner of her smile
soft silky moist glistens
a mist on her breath
a bit of touch on the pillow
a dream on the next day's memory
a dream for forever

not aware whom created the
list of the seven wonders
but my list were I
to compile would vary and differ
greatly

mine list would include
women

and the first look at your newborn

the rush of being charitable to a homeless man

stopping bullying

a dog's loyalty

a nighttime sky clear sparkled

a smile from anyone


and so I beg your patience
my list is the one I prefer
and i apologize to those who
created the original

of do a lord hath laid an egg
and deeds have gathered up in tombs
seeking rewards and justifications
only leaves the lord listening

to
gnawing teeth of bugs of
blowfly
drawn by rotting flesh
and gases to pupal teeth

young maggot feasting on

a darkening wood moving
thresh;
here 

remains his last words
left without
a bit of sense

I remember sunday called by girl's names
then saturday and her dreams
the false impressions I came to believe
sat on burning bushes
made wine of water
imagined
heavens overflow
on a count of three
there I sat beside the brook divining
contemplating
playing blind man's bluff
as the ripples
resided
ebbed
the flow went round
the count got all the way up to
ten
i was asleep
and then awake
listened
to the water
the ebb and flow
the countenance
of the dead
and living saints
and heard only
a blank nothingness

of the Americans
Five foot four and petite
Lynn was imported nitro glycerine.
She twanged, and with her kind they made me
uncomfortable, as they spoke words I did not know and giggled.
I tried to teach her western things, or Did I want to learn
Eastern ways. Never the one to digress, in the middle of getting to know her,
she said," pom rak kun"
I thought about that
more than a minute and returned,
"chan poot tai mai bpen"
my love.

beyond,
is where reality is.

Garnered
With a feeling of giving
Hope for peace
For this world's
evolution
Us a bow
On the wicker basket
Filled with eggs
Of all colors
And sizes
Sweets candy .and smiles
Of hope
For everyone.

Happy Easter!

of crying violin on cello moonbeams
spending my spinning around
wet, filled eyelets, drumming in my heart,
rising me up, bringing me close,
under a delicate chin,
drawing the bow across my breast,
to a ledge, poses me delicately on a  quiet impasse, brings me
off the edge; varying from key to soft
then growing again,  impossible, so
to describe
orchestrally.

of crying violin on cello membranes
spinning around my head
to wet filled eyelets
strumming heartless strings
rising up, bringing closer
up under a delicate chin,
a bow
drawn across a breast heaving,
to a ledge so close to dropping off,
posing delicate
now a quiet impasse
letting the edge go.
varying key to soft then growing,
again,
to an ecstasy
impossible
to describe,
orchestrally.

will is willing
his body is not
thrills
  come vicariously, now.

One smile away from happy
will, is
stepping into posterity.

will is long ago,
born on the tired years of working,
his body is tired.

will, still, sees hope
on the smile of posies
who take the time
to notice.

I fell in the stream once
Walking along its banks
My brother hanging from
A branch
Reached down and saved
Me from drowning

I fell from a branch of a tall
Oak once
On my head my lungs
Emptied

I stepped on a snake in
The forest barefoot
I and it went separate ways
Fast

I kissed a girl
Touched her rigid *******
Felt her receptiveness
But we parted

I've walked mountain tops
Camped in valleys
Slept in haylofts
In castle towers

Been seen in bars in
Parlors of sin
In druglords
Dreams

I've ridden horses
And been thrown
I've conquered
And been overthrown

But come the morning
Some day soon
The world will
Know me as it should

I shall rise from decadence
My head above
The rest my crown
Shall be

But Brown
Leaves and pieces
Of grass
And smallest

Treasures of this world
Will be golden
When I reach
This epitome

And peace will rule
And love resound
And people
Hold hands

The world
Around.

Then
I will smile.

tender is abstract realism
that falls between those raw reds those
screaming yellows
calls out in blues
the nearest flesh color
the wildest neon signs on
the  parkway  between
two highways
overpassed

If anything makes sense,
Please tell me how

to her, her I miss
full of her
I sit here without her

I feel her yet    
cannot hear or touch her
but

I know she wherever
whatever she does
she knows

and feels me
full as I do her
she is here

here in trances
she goes through, too,
we just are us, wherever

whatever us is,
we are, she means that such,
I am certain, i too
mean as much.