that morning

that morning
the air humid
with tears
from somewhere else

my skin sticky
muscles tired
and mind uneasy

the polish on my toenails peeling
from the angst rushing through my body
the sun lay on my foolish cheek
overtop my teacher’s last kiss
I sat perched there feeling all wrong
all alone
on the verge of worrying my soul
into a peanut shell

suddenly
we sat together
as I would later do again
with so many
many
many
loved ones
not knowing this one
until
that morning

my mom said
I wore blue eyeliner
from the 80’s,
in my lap, awkwardly sat my lunch
and he, comfy in his striped shirt
and aged black
leather jacket

he was lovely

the two of us
on cold hard plastic
sharing
recycled ideas
and we both
knew it.

he on paper
me in light banter

us; you and me.
the
both
of
us.
old and young,
knowing and abstract,
sitting together
looking over a piece
of lovely paper.
children,
mothers,
pasts,
presents,
the scent of women,
and the hopes of fulfillment
these; our discussions

I didn’t want
to share
but when I stood
it was all
I tangibly had to give.
he taught me different, with his smile

A Mess

I have credentials,
they're all over the place
just like me
and
I have questions,
And answers that are all wrong.
they're trivial
and obsolete
yet true
and to the point

I love and try not to hate
I'm scared and I need hugs
and I like to sleep
and snuggle and sing in the shower
and smoke too many cigarettes when I dance with my friends

And I don’t want to say goodbye to friends without kissing them
but people say that's weird
and so I'm dissatisfied
but I'm also smart and loving
and kind and bitchy
so I'm a mess and I hope that you love me back.

different contexts

it grows like kudzu
we chop at it
belittling it
despising it
pained
planed
and exasperated

unsure and flustered
at the amount of it

water outs the fire
smoke stifles the respiration
like a hand over the mouth
of a noise
a phrase needing completion
though you know it already

and now

I sit
sit
sit
in a fishbowl of coffee drinkers
striking away at letters on the pad;
letters on the plastic.
Insignificance on the plastic;
industrialized plastic that provides meaning.
How the hell did I get here?

I remember
‘member
‘member
being in this fishbowl when it wasn’t a fishbowl.
heart beating like a crazed lunatic,
mouth dry, tongue torched with nervousness.
legs twitching and
our eyes darting.
And now,
I sit
sit
sit
staring at some plastic,
trying to find meaning.

our figures
there
simple
and pure,
illuminated by magic.
Magic that no person could ever see.
Remnants of that magic can be seen by my mind’s eye.
my mind’s memory banks
teaseing with images;
Smiles,
Laughter,
Fidgeting.
Nothing that could ever,
or should ever, be measured for its beauty.
I know of its beauty
and I will always know of it.

And I know you know of it too.

I’m tired of being measured with spoons
Of being poured into a semi-plastic piece
of insignificant industrialized nothing with snow flakes printed on the outside,
only to have soy milk
and 'organic' sugar added to it
and then sipped on for comfort by the measurers of this world who finger the coffee jacket made of 100% recycled cardboard.

I want to know you like I did that day,
when everything was raw and pure and undiluted
and without artificial flavoring.

uncuttable

You run
others hide
some of us stay
and lots of us ride.

All I know is my hair's a little longer
my heart's a little stronger.
The spaces needing filled;
comfortably stable
with my own identity

you stay at bay
I ask you to relay
and
to not run away.
Lay

here with me
Pray a little
Gray a little
with me
no games
no fears
no sadness
and no queering
of circumstances

Face me
don't turn away
from what is
and what is not

My heart yearns for
your presence
the definition of you
next to the definition
of me
this I ask
after much
pondering.

fuck appreciation
and situation
and disputation
and circuitous narration

the uncuttable affinity
of you
and of me.

Displaced but Settled

Where the topmost branch
juts out to form a novel path
that will last for so long
as that decision
is not disturbed by another's.

When the leaves dissipate
the view left behind
was there all along;
the lens blocked
by what we previously
coveted.

A new adventure awaits
discovery,
my hope lives in the desire
to find it.
Help me to see what I cannot,
feel what I fear,
love what is true,
know what I've yet to know.

what if

Difference;
beautiful yet trying
engaging yet deceptive

if you let it
lead you astray,
like a curving line
a curving line called life,
it may cause
floudering or
drowning
but yet it may
offer
possibilities
unimaginable.

We're taught that Difference is a charmer,
a rude uninvited guest
inducing unpleasantness
as unilateral thought
and disruption of affect
and behavior
and cognitive cycles.

Difference provokes
Fear.
Fear
as motivator
causing anxiety,
thwrating growth and
opportunity.

Challenge it.
raise up your fist
and frustrate it
before it discourages
what could have been
or what would have been.

We all have one opportunity,
one chance;
to flee or fight
to love or hate
to know or become ignorant
to what we know
and feel
and desire.

Come to me, oh, life.
Challenge what I think and feel.
Meet me face to face.

the dance

contrast is debilitating,
moments gone awry,
due to unfortunate
Freudian
processes

buckled up for the ride
giggly
giddy
and spry

air thickens
breathing labored
you remember
lit fireworks don't just sit there

scientific laws break
byproduct: a hardened shell
a hardened shell that ceases to break
rearing its ugly head
on a Friday night
when the only thing keeping you company
is a curvaceous bottle and a piece of lit
asthma
and your best friend sits
adjacent. watching.

contrast is debilitating,
moments gone awry,
due to unfortunate
Freudian
processes

they said it would happen
as it has all along
the pressure
the building stifled strife
you never listened

wound up, sitting.
contemplating.
creating a contrast in your mind
that is of a debilitating situation,
made of moments gone awry
due to unfortunate
Freudian
processes

mortal irony

a piece of hardened stone
pitches a hammer toward a crowd

a section of violinists
both deaf
and blind

a throng of caring and compassionate
therapists
who ne'er before have shut their mouths
to atune their ears

a gaggle of flunking students
who read and
study

a raw bleeding heart
that which no one will bandage

words

this trendy bed
on which i sit
alone

consumer promises
await
i feel nothing
worth expressing

the empty hollow
of my heart
swallowed
by promises
and coffee
empty words
words
words
words
that spoke much previously

in a gesture
a smile
a furrowed brow
a political argument
understood by few
but yielded a couple

i'd give oh so much
to see
such an expression
now

not only such an expression
but from that
of.
a friend?

broke
broken
borrowing
beaten
bested
and blogging

bertha bakes her soul
swallows her sorrow
when she knows
that of her soul
and her misery
but is boundaried
to silence

silence is foolish,
speak to the simple longing
as we know you wish

Survival

Hardening one's soul
to the affect
of interaction

versus

holistic involvement
of one's experience
in affect

the former
be nutty
like a mad hatter
consumed by
baby ruth middling

the latter
tempestuous
open to pain
like violining fingers
that bleed
yet continue
to play

inclinations?
agree
disagree
fuck y'all

The real question
being
survival

The desire to be
Stone and
Problematic
and
the one to hurt
as opposed to the fluid
shape shifter
that is my mother;
the hurting

though I said it never to be
it has come
question being to embrace
or efface?

estranged and delusional

Nauseous
Disillusioned

Self inflicted hurt.
Lost
And crying

Letters
Refuge
Love
Life

Am I innocent?
Am I deceitful?

Self inflicted hurt.
Lost
And crying

betting emotion
Truth
Alone without an end

Not fire but peaceful waters
Flowing unexpectedly
With no end light in sight

Self inflicted hurt.
Lost
And crying

Describe it.
Know it.
Impossible
preposterous

Hoping against false hopes
betting against bad bets
fighting against preemptive rivals
That who I am
The definition of my soul
My womb
The blood that rushes through my existence
not of hate
not of wrong
but of honest meaning

self inflicted hurt.
lost
and crying

where did I leave my being
who lives in my body
and from where did they arrive?

leave me self inflicted with hurt,
lost,
and crying.

death comes unexpectedly

life begins
stuff happens
life ends

mom said
life's a bitch
and then you die

painted a rainbow over it

you win some
you smoke some
you hurt some
you run some

purple nosed
heart burning
surprise
surprise
ain't that familiar

the last moments
taste them
breath them in

they're fleeting.

then soundness and
mellow
turn to paces
and frets.
and let's not forget
corrected texts.

fuck them.
he was right
thwart the thicket,
drink drunk,
live longingly,
and do it
the best you know how
and know that it's the worst that makes it
the best.

and don't forget your book

seen

panic explodes
with mind racing
and heart pounding.
skin flushed.
rapid breathing

concealed calmness of secrets,
expressionless,
intense perspiration;
attempts
to thwart and hide.
it.

but not
you

others
glance,
noticing not
the Discrete,
Sincere,
Natural Beauty
that is ever-present
in deliberate voice,
heightened spirit,
exacting text,
and now

finally

discernable through sweet sight

speaking so deeply
yet saying nothing
only bending the matter that makes up the matter
that fills the space between.
that space between.
that space between.
you
and me.

and them

i loathe them
they walk through the space
bending as they please
stripping it of its beauty
and wonder

nipping from the opaque openness
from the fumbled fleeting feeling
from the impatient ironic idiocy
that is achingly alone.
All for you

fuck them.

watching the Beauty,
the Loveliness,
that is so full
It threatens to drown me

oh,
someone. simply.
save me

rain

flailing of water
arouses dead streets
polling visceral intellect.

as a child
floundering unconsciously in that affect idea
dreaming then
that what is known now

white foamy water fills the lane
with what I wished
I felt not

fluid mind,
life thwarted
diseases and aching
in
floundering, frothing water.
known dwindles while
reality abstracts.

sentiment remains
only as whirling water,
uninhibited vibrant state
between gas and solid particles
lovely to feel;
turbulent to live.

oh the desire evoked
swelling my cup
pounding my drum
squeezing my soul

longing for that what is ash and clean

it lives in my resolute mind
as if I were not
wishing it were memories

and the memories to make yet

judgment calls

stumbling in the dark
fumbling for the banister
legs aching and shaky
each step of the way

worn shoes
ripped sleeves
shorn hair
and dirty faced
walking aimlessly through this life.

groping
and grappling
indulging
and purging
perching
or slouching
and with all we have

broke, burnt and ill
calling to you

incessant nothingness
from the likes of so called allies.

the world reciprocates
the breeze and the streams and the rolling of the clouds
"to be alone;
must be faced"

the overheated and freezing
the empty and the full;
they know

to starve
and suffer,
bleed and
ogle into death's blind, knowing eye

with only a candle flickering with wonder
to keep me company

paradoxical being

like the wind
rattles the leaves from their home
on bent and mangled branches

like the water
flows vigorously, rubbing the smooth
stone where the river makes its bed

that being in nature
the all-knowing and pervasive being

so too does that being ache for its home
among the aging branches
to climb in them and make a concrete bed
and chill from the wind
a deep sense of isolation and desolate existence
and flow like the water through that desolation
the fluidity of existence becomes the mortar of home

flooding of the soul
with love and spiritual knowing
becomes numbness
and aversion of affect

alone in that natural
universal
and unique concrete fluidity

modality of meaningful friendship

immense
innumerable
sadness
betrayal
of the platonic
knowing of the being

Forcible Interaction
pains me
angst
aching

clumsy abandonment

the reconnect
fumbled
lacking a mitt
no reassuring hand
to assist

it is lovely
yet wicked
in a knowing sort of way

to know a soul
to embrace it
and then to be fucked
by it

consequently
ironically
i am the mitt
the hand
the assistance
for the one
the one
that embodies the wicked lovely soul

oh please God
is this the way of the
world

to wane tiredness
is this
the only mode of living

i desire none of it

to purge and to suffer

utter panic
frustration
Irritation.
thwarted emotive content

Heinous Beauty
plagues the context
pervasive bewilderment
yet identifiable knowing

verbal ineptness
blocked mind
wary physique

musical atonement to my Sin
the Sin that inhabits mind
the Sin that rides my existence
each moment extends into the next
full of the Sin
the Sin that embodies
my every Action
every Thought
and the whole of my being

am I the hurt
and afflicted?
Or am I the one
inflicting.
Laboring.
Manufacturing.
the hurt?

normative behavior

alarms sound
children shriek
traditionalists
conservative
narcissistic assholes
fucking the system!

they say
this and they say
that

they say but do they
feel?
do they know?

they do not engage
with deeply rooted knowledge
while
fucking with my mind
my heart
my being
my sister
and my brother

wrong and right.
who knows
anyone
at all
if anyone
knows
right and wrong
am I
one of them?

oh life
why do you tempt me so?

the evil and the pure
the pushed and the pulled
the fucked and the fucking
the haters and the lovers
the fighters and the cop outs

they each cause and
prescribe to
the cycles of existence

breaking bread

miraculously lovely
remarkably poignant
soulful creature
floating
and fumbling

amongst the beings
of the world of word
and sentiment
and All that is good
and All that is evil

chance encounter
amidst
one fortuitous
lifetime
suffering indulgently
with countless
fluky continuums

donor

safest induction

ardent immersion

lacerated umbrage
and
searing pain
induced willfully
at the heart-hand
of the one
the one
the one
filling the place
that is raw
and wanton
and who

vile
and healthy

left
bleeding
yet
jocundly scarred
the latent and the percipient
of realism
the one knowing
and the one known
the inner
centered
being
that has unceasingly and will perpetually
be present
ever more
with
or
without scribed
permissble-ness

morose daffiness

utter bewilderment
of high-pitched secrecy
strident silence

abrasion
evasion
of
writhing blithe

caught

buried fear
sits rotting
endeavors to dig
to intellectualize
what is lost and obsolete
hopes to regain hope
fears to salvage fear

afraid to embrace
time gone awry
genetic muse
stranger in the evening light

before.
it went
tucked neatly back
into the drawer

now
surfacing of the jean
breaks levees
and much more
agonizing pain
manipulated protection
tantalizing pleasure

self induced
savored
till pathways
bloom
and choice insist
on what is foreign
full of bliss
and sorrow

to wonder
to wander
not to know
what is known

faerieland

harmonious roar of calmness

dense circulation of

joint experiences
a blade in the knoll
while the chiggers itch
at your mind
where zeal and detachment
meet
waxing and waning

transposing into
more mystified
less concise

extrapolating

nothingness memories
saturating
empty fervor

concession

intersection

stretch out
on this mountain
bluff

stone
bare nothingness
a blank slate
void of experience
and of interactions
no encounters with
life

only breathe
tasteless sustenance

lacking touch
empty of emotion
and deficient of joy

adversely

warmth radiating
providing comfort
sympathetic
a plane from which
to consider

commissioning
images of time
existence
symbols
of sentiment evoked
from interrelated
emotive
protractile
incidences of living

cadence

light up; turn on

filling you
volatile
motivating
pervasive

breathe in
filter
then out

hunger for more
capitulate

gazing
squarely
facing you
glaring deeply

dread
terror
sweat for it
and from it

consoling you
receptive soothing
fingers transcend time
savoring toxicity

fluidity
clarifying
gratifying
alarming

push, push
pull, pull
unadulterated

slight it out

pergatory

anguish and ache
desolation of the mind
craving soul
wanton desire
exiled hope
the taunting of passion
wretched torment

abscond me
nay, I succumb

as I stand here wallowing
wailing with lack of tone

soap

bliss
rolls off the shoulder
a little soaking
into the already
saturated shirt

the sweat stains
and stinks
like day old
misery

elimination of
these articles,
affected
pieces
of my being

is

essential

wretched misery
how I loathe
thee
get off
get out
neither ride
nor pester me more
lest you be disinfected
permanently

damn you!

water tumbles
finally

the stench dampens,
souring the air
and the aura

nostrils curl
breathing labored
sodden with emotion
the tempestuous beast
fighting angrily

grimace

body covererd
smoothed
comforted
by hands
hands of
compassion and
empathy

the nasty thing lifts away
away
away from what that is
mindfully abiding
abiding to the needs and
desires
of the inner marrow

the essence of that creature
revitalizes

frown fading

water embodies bliss
bliss attaching to those
comforting
compassionate
empathetic hands
hands for healing

bliss steeps

Les temps à temps (From time to time)

Les temps à temps
Les émotions j’espère a parler
est les émotions similaires a mes désirables
de la pensée.

Les pensées avec les émotions au cœur
commence
être
les expériences à l’existence de misérables.

Pace au cœur
est pace a la pensée.
la pace est être l’existence aux misérables.
mais, vous,
Mi amour ;
vous êtes ma pace est mon cœur ;
mes désirables et mes l’existence misérables.

Pour ci
est mes condition a l’amour et a la félicité.
Je fais les délices grands avec la condition
Sil vous plait, sil vous plait ?!
Mi amour,
Ne prends pas !
ma condition prends moi.
_______________________
(rough translation)

From time to time
The emotions I hope to speak
are emotions similar to the desires
of my mind.

The mind with the emotions of the heart
begin
to be
the experiences of my miserable existence.

Peace in the heart
is peace of the mind.
the peace is to be a miserable existence.
but, you,
My love;
you are my peace in my heart
my desires and my miserable existence.

For this
Is my condition of love and of happiness.
I take the great delight with the condition
Please, please
My love
Take not!
my condition from me.

in the whole of instances

The light and dark
of it all
The warm and cold
The frailness
And the one soul
Amongst many

Why can’t you perceive sound
From what I’m not saying
Can’t observe what I
Witness
Can’t suppose about
Anything
Anything
Anything
But your yes’ and your no's
Your loves and your hates
Your all

Your feelings
Your desires
Your pensée
are more important
Than that of mine

Well fuck you
And your goddamn face
The way you gawk
The way you gape
The way you toss your hair
The way you assault and insult my sisters…
The way you bust my world
The way you mouth the water
From your glass

That glass
From which you nip

The transluscence
Of what used to be

Just sand

Until

the pressure of the world
turned it to what it is

…perfect and functional
And yet breakable
and the way it exists
everyday
since that pressure
struck

I feel
I witness
I desire
I have being and existence too
You don’t view it
But I see what’s yours in you
I discern you
You don’t even notice me
Until you desire
That misery
That self-loathing hate
you
cause in me
to evoke my horrors
and my pasts

this paper
this recycled piece of nothing
of what is not
black and white
of forgotten experience
of punctuation
and misspelled nothingness
perhaps
you see disaster
and wrong
and ghastly
and immoral
and unnatural
but I see preposterous affection
And wholesome soul
And what is
‘Known’ to some
As a life in the form
Of one moment
An instant in the whole of
instances
When one soul
Tries to connect
To another

But who?
Who in this god forsaken world?!
Who will attempt
To connect with
And relate to
And care about
any of it?