My Brothers and Sisters

Ride
on the wings
of the eagles
of self expression.

Dance
with the openness
of carefree children, free
from the perils of self awareness.

Harness the power
in your own hands,
in your own heart,
in your own way.

Proclaim yourself sovereign
over all that would dissuade you;
be under the sway, the influence
of nothing but common sense.

Evolve past the past
into a being futuristic,
into the amaranthine,
into an embraceable forever.

Catch the feverish fervor
of days and hours of well
spent passion, of deserved
splendor.

the walls are bleeding again
and i am lonely nothingness,
personified absence. apathy
with a joint in its mouth,
calling in sick from life itself.

freestyle keyboarding...

I'm a feminist misogynist who would like to have a tryst with the whole female populace, because when I bust my nut it's like calling forth the apocalypse.

If you don't like this then don't follow this.

So let's talk about what happens next, because hopefully it's sex. So let me break down what happens in the bedroom or the back of a Toyota. I'm going to bury my bone deeper than a raptor fossil found in South Dakota.

When you're with me, your orgasms are explosive, so call 'em the squirt locker. Have you writhing and moaning on the floor like a vocal from Joe Cocker. Because when I fuck, the pussy's the goal just like in soccer.

Does it offend you, yeah? You know what you can suck. Want me to write about the sensitive soul inside and when I do, you call it genteel and say you don't give a fuck.
_________________________________________________________

Above was just for fun, lighten up!

Sonnet I

Alone in the darkest wood, sat my girl
and she would not nor could not decide how
to live life free of the snake's coiling curl,
an entwining entanglement somehow

ever present in all the world's little dangers.
But I said, "That means you must believe now"
and she said, "Mommy always talked to strangers."
Rigidly tiptoeing backwards through brown

eyed misgivings, ever ready to tear down
what was never built up, what was never
the story of a king clown wearing a frown.

The night knowingly hungers for her gown,
graceful in its attempt to down weather
her defenses defenseless, a lone town.

Loveless Love Spell

This heart is gold while the rest are cold

Mistakes left under the sidewalk

Three times behind this soft decay

Washing out the fears

Walking through the tears of those left by the wayside

Your pay grade is too high.

One more misstep

A discourse in integrity,

Your bedside my sight of mystery, of misery

When these portraits collide,
Frozen in time side by side,
This is your fear that I hide.

With your face plastered across the street signs of who we were,
Not who we are,
Your difference is beyond compare.
Traveling on jaded wings,
You can only fly so high before it weighs you down.
The tide comes in but the blood doesn’t wash out.

One last velvet smile.

Out with Lee

“Is that your sancho?” the fat Latino on the bar stool said.
In reference to me,
“Sancho? Oh… no.” This forgotten girl from China said
His question was with a preconceived knowledge
that probably yielded a surprise in knowing the truth,
Her placatory reply was uttered
in a matter of fact yet contemplative tone
that left me wistful and plaintive.

She knew and knows,
it is funny though how days later,
I could care less about how people are careless
With the people they just met,
We are all tangential,
gentle like a haymaker,
I bawled like a child at the end of a balled fist
Yet I am reserved and unspoken.

I carve, I crave, I carve my distaste in spades, amorously,
The charcoal sunsets are running down and out,
Sinking and being swallowed by the water,
Ruminations on fleeting impulses,
I am alone like I’ve always been.

In this lowly room, meant for a child,
There are no offerings to give, just pain to undergo,
Alcohol is a depressant because I drank it and this is how I feel,
Groggy and uninspired, unhinged and underappreciated,
There is something that you could do to make it alright.

You could kiss me, shit,
You could just lay your hand on me,
You’re making me awkward, I am though already,
This is how it always is, always is like the old days,
I will drift off soon and only know nothing.

You were so blunt, shit,
You told me but did I hear it at all?
You also said that I remind you of someone else,
This is how it always is, always is love like failure,
I will shuffle off soon and hopefully know something.

We Should Just Be Friends

Broken skin, bruised skin,
bad skin, smeared eye make up,
I love it for what it represents.

Staring past imperfection for once
and it burns my stomach like hunger.

scorches like:
An evening that never ends,
A morning that never begins.

The secrets are shared, my mouth,
an indispensable cask, swilling
and spilling that has been held dear
for so long in the shadows like sailors
in seaport opium dens of old. Clandestine
yet heartfelt, unrequited
and not totally understood.

Snuggled, cold sweats and anti-climax
with the watchful eye of El Oso ever present,
ever near, ever disruptive but not out of “malicious intent.” Threats of abandonment and other people’s mistakes, my own sense of responsibility and self-preservation at the forefront like a melancholy wall
of discretion.

We’re discrete and I’m relieved, heart-broken,
unsure, un-showered, alone, cold, opaque.

My heart’s a blank check, fill it in and cash it.

Pyrite pride under the circumstance,
I’d only pull your leg if you asked me too.