Línea negra

tattoo of
vertical life
exists along
womb
nurturing
seeds inside
beautiful skin
I show you
a drawing
from the inside
Línea negra

my Sunrise-written in 3rdIperspektiv

raven tinted luminescence
crawls across the horizon
lashes of light
open up
and kiss the velvet sky
virgin sunshine
offers herself to the indigo skyline
she leaves residue
of pomegranate along his smile
lusts pains
paint sage and purple streaks
where they once lay
orange meets bright white
as sunshine meets her peak
erupting
molten lava
life;bliss
she has risen
to seduce night
once again

D.S.T.

Tick Tock Tick
Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock Tick
my life; enveloped with emotion
almost a strung out devotion
I was a junkie
hooked on this thing called
love
inhaled
cooked
snorted
injected
I found myself floating with those from above
but that time is gone now
replaced by one that heals
while it wears my soul down
the mountain in front of recovery
seems too high
I am taking a breather now
my arms are rested on my thighs
I start to move again
running
inhale
running faster
breathe out
halfway up the hill
I am now flailing my arms about
I reach the summit at full speed
take off like a bird
flapping wings so fast
the clock can’t be heard
Tick Tock Tick
Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock Tick
a little bit softer now……..
I am healed

poetic suicide

I feel as though
my time here
is coming to an end
I want to leave
a final impression
for all of my friends
the jocks
the nerds
the suits
the straightedge
the hippies
the herbs
the skaters
the bikers
the gangsters
the clubbers
the hangout all niters
the multi-
national
cultural
biological
the women
the men
the preachers
the sinners
the saxophone
the violin
the drums
the bass
the turntable
the case
the lawyers
the doctors
the eyes
the face
of anyone that has crossed my path
heart left warmed by
water; life
casting long memories
no matter the sun’s height
my time on earth is over now
I can’t escape the inevitable
can’t hide or run
I am thirsty before I go
I make a drink
blue ink from a metal flask
pour; enjoy
tick; tock
time pasts
I drop to my knees
take up the pen
and squeeze
my final impression is left
all over the walls for everyone to see
poetic suicide

Something for you

to think of you
is an unwrapped gift
anticipation builds.....nervousness is replaced by a smile
no matter what the lord puts between us
luggage, cities, countless miles
I will never forget the space that you occupy
I wish that forever I could hold your hand
wipe the tears when you cry
witness all of your problems disappear
when you need to talk, give you an ear
be your everything
or anything
if you like

She loves me, she loves me not

Feel as I feel. Is that poetic?
is it possible for you to hear me through a sequence
of inaudible sounds shaped into frequencies
that bring my spirit into your world
beckoning me like the Sirens of Odysseus
intoxicating me with the allure of your spirit
just to crash my hopes and desires on the hidden beaches
and cavernous caves surrounding the entrance to your heart
once loved but now scorned; feelings
scorched like the world’s southern most desert
lips dry
parched flesh
yearning for the afternoon oasis of kisses to set your heart aflame
our love is coarse and dry like the ram’s fur of Aries
never escaping the desire to be together
but hating the time when we are