THE HUMAN MIND

Well thanks for calling me a friend
I started life
with a large family strewn all over
about 200
each so individualistically individual
it made me marvel

Thus I undertook the study of the
Human Mind

some were very rich
many very, very, extremely poor
but it made no difference to me
(even though then I was very okay,
yeah rich,)
as they all did to me endear

The crocuses as first have seen their bloom
in cold of early spring, heaven’s portend
with call that other life should now ascend,
that world may rise in joy from winter’s gloom.
Though trees were skeletal in frosted tomb
their buds, in pulsing, reached out to send
the spirits force with balm so warm, and mend
the frosty cracks where life does now re-bloom.

nightmare fuel
into black steel veins
dreaming of upside down
sucking inside out
divinations with spilled bones

i'm origami girl
cum whoop cunt slap
she quipped folding herself
into a teensy pinkish shape
to fit in an overnight bag
girded for last exile
a runaway bride
hot ragdoll
in a borderless drooling bed
ready for a long night vacation
possessed of a dark commerce
hallucinating a suicide pact
in a cast of whirling spells

Through the hole in the curtain
I look at the sky.
Its colors are slowly blanching.
Naked branches are drawn
by a careless hand: black lines,
dimly gleaming tangle,
wet bark and new torrents
beneath a cloudy blanket
Russians would call туман [toomun].

My darling, I know the word
but will never pronounce it.
It wouldn't be right.
And only at night
hidden behind the curtain
from self and all my unraveling versions
I mouth the word,
I taste its short vowels
that cannot be heard.

Some say he was sent by god,
but I admit he eases my fears

of that wave known to be coming:
the coloring, predicted long ago.

But prophecies tell of the future,
so why then, set before the eye,

a black man standing at head,
symbol of the coming wave?

Well now, we are back, puritans,
dismantling all his tainted works.

and we are bold enough to call
all no sayers, “only fake news”.

Yes, there had to be whitelash,
and we stand on solid ground,

Under the advice of legal counsel I declare that the entire content of my filthy disgusting poems about assholes, pussies, smelly feet, tremulous flesh perspiration, bleeding, crying, screaming fuck me to shreds; are for the purposes of bending minds and hearts towards becoming a sex addict, porn fiend, pervert or masturbatory worm gob entertainment slut and that I do not vouch for the veracity of the content; since I'm not my right mind due to large amounts of amyloid plaque build up in my gerontological decrepitudinous brain that strangely pulsates the mind box sexuality of a distur

In the moon was a girl who played
the starfish notes of an astral organ,
a filigree sewn on the jackets of men
sent to protect her later. I left it with you
the clown’s blush that swelters 
on your city window, the cribbed 
notes from your quiet genocide,
carried away in the spotted noon 
by a lark, maybe, or some lexical
hummingbird. The glower I wear 
now is an appraisal of this chipped
birdhouse—this world without you.

''I am that light(flame)
the only candle
which is lit(as in spark)
not by matches/(or gas burner used for cigarette )
but
by flames(heat) of those
who ignite(themselves)(Jealousy produces heat hence flame)
reading my
in-core delight ''

Note
I know the understanding of this single stanza
could cause confusion

(INTENTION)
'''I am a candle
burning bright
for those
who enjoy my light''

Yes, its true, they are considered stronger,
and objectively they indeed are. But so what,
are the tendons of the muscle, and training
of the body all there is?

I will tell you the story of twins, which were not
twins at all. One, when hopes were beaten, and
defeat stared him in the eye, he broke, fallen,
only a semblance of himself as he went down.