submit to me a writ, you shall not compose poetry a bit...

I am baptized with a wave
and a dry palm leaf
the wind brought from the trail.
I was there with him.

We crossed country roads,
went through the grasses
and mangrove swamps,
waded in rivulets, stomping
and breaking to pieces
darkening mirrors of ponds.

Smoke in the nostrils,
hay in the hair, we shared the air
with widening prairie.
We drank the abundant belated bloom
and finally found the way to the shore.

oh better not say that
weaving tongue
better not cut my balls off
with malignant algorithm's

better not think lions shredding hyenas
while veiled demons lick assholes for car payments
and boarder children gnash heaping tears of blood
desperate for their parents loving arms
and soft troubled kisses

God looks upon his creation and says
"and it is good"

what will people think
am i a nice person
birthday face
shut eyed stiff
not dangerous, like a gun in the face

The Winter season has finally come,
Oh, I what a joyful time to idle around.

It’s a good way to relax our nerves too,
Allowing the clouds to carry us through.

Why be conditioned to keep ourselves busy?
When chasing time makes us all crazy.

But doing nothing is a respite,
To clear our mind’s tiredness;
So, after being idle for a little while,
We’re back ready for another life’s bouts.

shelter me in from hand to chin where everybody wins
choose the day the night is far spent in fear I calm all cheers
celebrate on occasion your bringing me down spent from painting the town...,
look into my eyes a devide state responds,

eggs Benedict and orange juice turn to the kettle for living proof
penetrate me thine living doll a soldier of reproof taking a nice hot shower
green is the grass you made for tea hoping sometime that she would marry me
devide us then guide us from living proof another loose tooth

Our vehicles swarm in a steel hot day
Around the busy round-about
Where the highway meets Route 4.
It was there my eyes saw a raven
Arriving and defiantly posed
Folding his wings behind his back,
In the center of the berm with dead weeds,
Encircled by a wall of stone.

His eyes followed our every move;
Black like the craggy graveyards
He must have come from
(Like that stupid poem we read in school
About some creepy bird and fool).

Is there more?
To eat,be born, work, sleep .

Growing without being able to edit your past
Eating without getting filled up
Working every time just to survive
Sleeping just to wake up to another reality.

Is that all,
Is there more,are these what the world can offer
Is there still more
Is there another phase

Our Dreams
Is that the real world
Is this present life a fiction
Explanation's?

cheer up young brother is it any wonder that made Stevie still wonder..,
back side of the porch scene politicize its people scene then below a pillow
the golden noodle pierce you head in fondness to flow very often in a dream..,
the old Caldor right at the door & Two Guys to my surprise put aside those lies
love the ovation set out on a prowl of dedication piercing the inner arrangement scene
it takes a hero to move pillars stand tall & deliver...

beneath the mask
lies a guarded myth
for eyes to seek
then say Ah!

Who could be content
with this wretched world

religions bribe

death; bovine silence
tears of my beating red heart

without passions arc
there would only be rational thought
and grizzled earth
arctic cold

poetry beats the gravity
of this rock
deepens the mouth of inspiration
worming through
the machinery of desperation
like Jesus floats

eloquence it's revenge
a helpess idol