a new day

I want you all over me

like wind on a stormy night

rain leaves stains on the window pane

the way that your touch feels on my skin

everyday is a new day

to be bonded with you again

past::present

the sun is rising
I have evolved a full cycle
shedding skin from yesterday
I sit
watching
as the light grows from the middle of the dark
the sun has risen
now to third I level

beginning of downtown crossing

my mind is like white patchouli
mixed with a bit of musk oil
I like to sprinkle the scent onto sheets of bound memories
my fingers press out the smell with every indentation of a new word or syllable
much time has passed since I've been
here....

downtown crossing
people:
watching
smelling
walking
talking
going about their way
the scent of my city is the same
in this train of paper dreams
new memories framed in the windows of passing reflections

now the beginning has become the end

and we are passing through downtown crossing again

alone

she sits and weeps a single tear

along her cheek of rose

my absence has left her lost for words

and I have lost my love

....

I have lost my love

....

and I

have lost..

my

~love

afterthought

ice
melts

rain
drops

heart
beats

time
stops

always

but you

love me
     when you can

touch:my:soul

touch
my soul with words unrolled off tongues fed by syllabic soliloquies
touch
my mind in patterned sounds of 4 beat rhythm that dance themselves around me
the touch of two will wind itself round bodies like framed wisteria

wrapped in time
we dance on top of raindrops and collect stars from the constellation's nebula
love has no bounds
and like the wind
it moves through my limbs
scattering leaves
left illuminated by the red moon

the sun's teardrops

Life
Death
Rebirth
challenges
conquered in infancy
twisted ‘round variables of complex addendum
bespoke chambers of marginalized thoughts
we live...
in solitude
my spirit and I forever bound to this offering of life...
fists RAISED in defiance against death and it’s shortcomings
inside my clenched hand I hold the sun's teardrops
collecting the water till it becomes an oasis
covering the faces of one hundred centipedes marching through existence
in the distance it appears as nothing more than a reflection of my past
dropped from the heavens and drawn within a human outline
soon,
we shall become one
completing this circle of life by traveling the circumference
for now…
my spirit fills the tenements of body and soul
what is left will seep out of smoke filled tepees
I am part of her; earth and her needs insatiable
my bones; dust will mix with the wind; collected in clouds
finally finding rest inside the palace of my father
he will take these collected dreams and pour them into my mind’s eye
becoming
breath
life....
the sun’s teardrops

Butterfly Theory

locust sounds all around surround me with their native tongues
the words unfold into stories told of mankind’s living sins
my sisters and brothers of the swarm beat their wings in the summer’s winds
they tell me secrets of the world learned from the ancient virgin nymph
she unwinds a tale from African lands; the people and their suffering
etched inside her crystal wings centuries of slaves speak of their lament
the souls of our ancestors wrap themselves around a linen document
and with the joining of the two deliver messages directly heaven sent
we find the heart in a place that base existence on the subject’s shade of skin
the coarse black hair stands on end when beaten with horse’s whips
lashes unleashed on back and neck cause abuse felt by the next of kin
and from the scars rise bloody mounds resembling hand painted faces of children
eyes well with tears and water drops down rusty cheeks charred by the rising sun
the moisture left behind outlines a sketch of shuffling feet along the auction block
the step up to the hanging noose that many of them got
for feeling lost in a land not indigenous to their minds
now working on massa’s farms and paid just pennies for their time
to feed a family of light skinned children who don’t belong to the host
but instead an alien brood hidden from the old plantation’s ghosts
persecution of my people continues throughout decades of racial turmoil
time unfolds and a superior larva crawls from the tightly packed soil
ready to enforce the civil liberties given to you and I
Earl Little and Martin Sr. carried seeds of the future leaders; now angels in the sky
their voices moved an entire generation into marching and sitting down for a while
showing the nation that we as a people together are a force to be recognized
a people that cannot be thrown into the lions pit and torn from limb to limb
but instead one to learn from and invest a piece of future in
the growth of a people and persecution sometimes go hand in hand
but to know where we are headed we have to know where we’ve been
and now Barack emerges as the Ornithoptera Alexandrae
and the elders can now smile
for all the miles our people have traveled the snakes now have something
hard to swallow
from this man we all shall rise
the way the sun does;
everyday that we call tomorrow

- Flying

So he writes: watching the sun set against the backdrop of night. the lust of ebony drips from lips as he waits on the evening sky
He writes: of saturns and moons eternal bodies blessed with an occasion to share his first love
He writes: somber sonnets and silent soliloquies pressed against the fall air. like fingers in her hair he intertwines his words through space and time
He writes: of stars appearing as constellations along her spine as he connects the dots. seducing scorpio with a feather and making virgo smile
I write:
the night is my paper and she is my love. we dance together like two butterflies in flight along the path of forever. only stopping to rest on a cherry blossom to bask our wings in the moonlight.

sidewalk shaman

It happened to me
suddenly/like
the wind that blows in between downtown buildings
"excuse me sir but do you have any change for the winter?"
clink, clink, clink
clink, clink, clink
he jingles his cup as I watch and listen
"excuse me sir/ma'am, but do you have any change for the winter?"
with each shake of the cup
the din of the change rattling
I'm drawn
he shakes and cries out
like an ancient shaman wearing ankle bracelets
while conjuring spells with a magic staff
beset on all sides with encrusted jewels
poor sidewalk shaman
his audience wasn't listening
burying their heads deeper into shoulders
escaping the cold bitter reality
continuing to ignore this young man and his pain
his cries for help fall on mannequin ears
a tune he has played for years
the call and no response from the mass of passer byes
hunger has taken his mind and body over
never had a chance, this homeless land rover
nothing to do but
turn and face the mirror
the result of the growing insult of being ignored/not treated as a human
then with tears in his eyes he turns in my direction
head pressed against the glass
heart beat logarithms etched into the reflection
I’m transported to a world all but mine for a short amount of time
in the split second of space that we share
we surf together on oxymoronic parallels of despair
that here...
amidst the regurgitated prosperity/no one seemed to care
abandoned
adopted
in squalor forced to live
abused
accused
all of these words are his
insulted
imprisoned
with nothing left to give
but less answers
like
penniless
loveless
homeless
sidewalk shaman
oh you poor sidewalk shaman
my mind has witnessed enough
whirl your bullroarer
transport me back to my world
the reality of yours/too much
too much to take
not enough distance between what’s real and what’s fake
but wait
your reality was decided by Egyptian gods of fate
Shai, Meskhenet and Renenutet
like a child on a cross country trip
asking are we there yet
I want to be home
safe and sound
where I exist
…….all alone
blink
I’m awakened by a familiar sound
clink click clink
the sidewalk shaman still spinning his instrument around
Sir can you spare any change for the winter?
and into his world
we all enter

freestyle thoughts

I ran into an ex weekend, then I backed up and hit her again
who’s paying for the damage to my heart?
insurance doesn’t cover the flood of tears and scars on my wrists
an eternity of time left to heal the wounds of instantaneous harm
misguided and undirected like a plane on autopilot
they find their mark when the fuselage is lodged in my heart
burning to the core
big hole left to fill with some more

the kiss below

neck
breasts
stomach
thighs
knees
anklebones
just below where your toes
join your foot
all the places I would like to kiss
soft…
wet…
pauses in between
roll you over and start from the bottom again
heel
calf
back of knee
thighs
mounds of undulating flesh and bone
small of back
feeling me yet
shoulder blades
back of neck
earlobes
nowhere else to go….
but below

sustenance

I am starving
my life was once sustained by words caught in a net drawn in from the sea of humanity
captured syllables flip and flop into linguistic somersaults
I would cook them with abstract thoughts until the meat falls off the bone
without them I am starving
my paper feels alone

....
Will you feed me?