I take you in
and let you
out.

It’s not breathing,
but sufficient;

I often wonder about how much is understood in cyber space. Is there a reality only the anonymous is privy to?

Somewhere a computer-generated heart is beating out my virtual experience. There are tu/lips I’ve never kissed but I can taste: soil, root, growth—Sweetness, I wake red-mouthed and yellow-centered. I am a devil out in the sunshine.

You inspire me more than the real/it/y?

I learned early-on; poet’s can never touch their best work—is that which is write beyond existence pulling the ink. I have left many trails to you, only to return, to gage, how much further I need to right to reach heaven: the distance between the two wheels of my axle.

Seraphim you are soul serum. And truth.

I take you in
and let you
out.

It ‘s not freedom;
it’s not enough.

the politics of she
requires that I
look within me
& spark
a dialogue
for CHANGE
all of history
she taints
so that
we don't really see
our mirror image
reflects
in each other...




we are taught
to hate
& be indifferent
to the plight
of by
and for the people
because
it ain't
in my backyard...

we are witness
to her events
via elements
of nature
truths revealed
in armored tanks
& gunz drawn
in the name of humanity
are we so easily deceived?

it makes
me question all
authorities
& powers that be
all forms of
oppressive
Sovereignty...

I never new
she was such
a radical thinker
Mother earth
that she would
strike with a force
& bring death
to the people...

they say
God is mysterious
and I know
this to be true
when spirits
reveal themselves
via the YouTube
past & present...

we can
see the connections
but we
are still livin wrong!

if we know
these things
to be
self evident
then
why do we turn a blind eye?
have we not seen enough of our mothers cry?
wept blood tears
for fallen
sons & daughters...

I DON'T
WANT TO BE
ANOTHER MARTYR
FOR MY ANCESTORS!...
or the hand
that striked the blow
but I do
want to get down
to the politics
of Mother earth
for all of
history's eye
be her witness
to the truth
so live up
wit livity
& SPEAK!
for
silence = death

thanks for the welcome

thank you i get the sentiment

The Memorial

I’m having a memorial for the side of the bed you slept on
Demolishing doubt as if it were a vacant building without stairs
There was never a way to the top

I watched how she loved them
Slipped them into her camouflaged bed
Day break left a stench of a third world battlefield
We were the refugees holding our noses and tears
While stray bullets alarmed the thin walls with naked echoes

She fixed breakfast with gun powder residue still on the tips of her fingers
Spreading crushed grapes on burnt flour
and un-clumping oatmeal that clung to her rushed entrée
Her good-byes always sounded like she was the understudy in the school play
Re-assuring her lines to say them on queue
but praying to Buda that she didn’t have to memorize the entire part

: MOTHER TELLS CHILDREN : “I Love You”

She struggled with connection and they struggled with commitment
And now, I am convinced that the beds she laid, I now have to make
Karma rehearsing the reversed hours
that every woman’s husband spent in her bed
Kisses used as sedatives
Wiped off like mud off shoes when entering their TV sitcom homes
with stairs to climb to the top to reach their children’s rooms and kiss them goodnight

: FATHER TELLS CHILDREN : “I Love You”…
and climbs into his rehearsed bed of deception

Where was my casting call in this production?
My heart has become the understudy to my head
This cluster of pain that is dress rehearsing in absentee
I never caused this war
Love should not be my battlefield
The aftermath of too many nights between wrong and diluted passion
has some how found the address to your offspring’s
I want to return to sender
But the last place of residence for you has been demolished
All that was left
Was a BED
Empty
Worn with dented body prints that have aged the stitching which held its frame
Rusting from abandonment but still there
Doing its karmic duty
Making sure our beds would remain
Empty
Void of loves gun powder….

I am having a memorial for the side of the bed you slept on
Day breaks and I’m bullet proofed with the understudies goodbye’s
Rest In Peace ECHOES…..

NICE

thank you

To my potential:
I watched you build my first and only swing set. Stitch bolts like you were creating a dynasty. For a trapeze artist that dreamt only in diamonds. I saw you implement swings, so I could be closer to clouds. You embraced wooden planks, carved prayers into poems with your razor blade, and chiseled your offering onto a yellow lawn of a boy that loved talking to the sun.

You stained blackberry blood thimbles into the structure, pressed your creation down into the righteous earth, like turntables mixing childhood calamities

I camped on that dream.
Let my legs embrace freedom every day after school. Grease sucked lemonade stars, tickled me in the dark, bugs splattered themselves on my face like paint, aiming at my open mouth for disaster. I sucked the color out of the moon, engraved my bottom on the plastic slide. Its yellow slick tongue delivering me to the ground. Letting me come up for air and breathe dynamite. I was a gymnastic circus boy, leotard hands,, eclipsed by imperfection, and bright curls so tight it hurt to do anything but sing.

But you left, and it wouldn’t stop raining
And my expectations have scorched the centerfolds on my palms

Because I expected for you to be lovely.

For you to play with me, and draw out the nectar out of the days as if remembering that every day is a birth. Day.

I expected for you to call me an angel, steal my feathers at night and sell them in the black market, trade a piece of your son for the pills that made your eyes look less like raw wood under fingernails, rising the dead.
And that the smell of my hair would be your greatest medicine. And it would allow you to keep promises.

I expected for you not to ask me to have a structure be my father.

But you built that swing set to destroy my potential, and hope that he would shield me from your neglect. And like all great gods I must create myself again.

And ask that you know better that to make a child wait. (When you knew you would never come.) In his favorite red shirt. On his birthday. To go to the carnival. Maybe that’s why I eat cotton candy every chance I get, so that I can make up for the opportunity of never having it with you.

WHEREAS
LOVE only last about 2 mins into the act

The rest is just bumping uglies until one gets more excited than the other

SO As I see it sisters and brothers

LOVE OWES ME A DAMN REFUND

If you see her happy *** walking down the street spreading her joyful lies tell her I'm looking for her

I have invested: Time, Mind, Body, Money, Gas, Cleaning Supplies, Videos, DVD's and Lies

I have invested over 40,000 miles by air, car, and ship

I have invested in make-up, hair-do's, lingerie, dinner and breakfast ingredients

I have invested in concert tickets, poetry events, artshows, and plays

TO HAVE THOSE TWO MINUTES

I have forfited games, family time, movies, and comedy shows

TO FONDLE THOSE TWO MINUTES

So as I see it LOVE OWES ME A DAMN REFUND

She goes around painting these pictures of Forever
and ever and always till death does us apart
Waving her flag of happiness
AND WE INVEST
in that ******** like LOVE IS OUR GOD

I just found out that those ads are full of fraud

As I see it LOVE OWES ME A DAMN REFUND

SO If you see her happy *** walking down the street spreading her joyful lies tell her I'm looking for her ***

Check Please!