My turn
I’m going to
spin the bottle
no one ever even noticed me
in High School
our first kiss
needs to be perfect
you don’t get a redo

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obsession …
— envy us
in the way they stay upsetting
themselves.

you’re setting yourself up for failure

possible optimism

two glasses
my other, half
fully blurry vision
they’re prescription
usually she has to squint
and hadn’t felt the planets tilt till now

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in pursuit of riches
snapped twigs, and
perseverance
exhausted —
all my resources …
gone,
in the heat of the moment.

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martyred
Tupac Amaru Shakur
Los Angeles

thug poetry

40 ounces of malt liquor
Olde English and calligraphy

slurring my words…
sounds as if I’m speaking in cursive

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take your shoes off at the door

I’ll take your coat

your hair smells refreshened
from the ozone
and
remnants of soap
lathered and rinsed out
in the rain shower

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attacking my integrity

questioning… me

myself,

I, was taught there was no such thing as a stupid question

second guessing…

why?

you were impolite.

looking for answers in an inner view

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big brother
little kids,
children in the middle
of
civil war torn nations

warring

civil discourse

say your prayers

“Our Father”

we gather together to ask for salvation

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Spun -
A burnout —
driven to madness
and
crashing,
in a
drug fueled accident

What a catastrophe!

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dimensional
cellular division
the genomic sequence

time is a light matrix
encoded in
0’s & 1’s
goes on forever …
and, in that order
10, 9.

A singularity
and absolute zero

the big freeze or heat death

he said no one can help us
when, asking the universe
for answers

what, times any number
… is nothing other than zero

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This tidal,
ebb and flow
of our own
mixed feelings
as a solution,
salted tears …
we are 60% water
with
these waves of emotion

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This tidal,
ebb and flow
of our own
mixed feelings
as a solution,
salted tears …
we are 60% water
with
these waves of emotion

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ancestors
shackled
and put in line
following the customs
of those, who
came before them
 

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We shouldn’t be embarrassed
to talk
…. about our problems
to a therapist

always looking at me, before you speak

I’m here for —You
if ever
you feel the need to talk about anything.

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Generation X
plagued
with
this ease
that is,
going viral…

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Paralyzed
like a spider
checking in on his victim
tied up, entangled …
makes me think
of a bad dream
worsened
the familiar feeling of
waking up to the news of death

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They say he has his way with the ladies
the bruiser at the door
thought to himself
hey, let’s not get carried away

what a light weight ...
they had been seen leaving together
after a fight—being broken up
over a year at least

she said to all her girlfriends
“it was like I was blinking
then my eyes rolled back
into my head and everything went black”

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intermingling with a demon in the flesh
you realize your life was a lie
and your soul suffers in hell
for what feels like an eternal
date with death

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A child
talking black
to their parents
acting out of character
arguing about upbringing
taken back
some things are best left unsaid…

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prophesied
the premonitions
foreshadow people
who live lives with
similarities parallel to our very own

when your third eye intakes light
and all the shades disappear in the night
their life is vibrant
the dream seen as an auric phenomenon
it’s either that
Or, are you completely isolated
in the back of the black of your eyelids

see an oracle or dream interpreter,
our aura’s rainbo...

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smoking barrels
in talks —about the past
around the campfire

you could cut the tension with a knife

the only thing needed is a good sense of humor

And,
…try not to lose your self along the way

the buddy system
marching—
side by side
do you trust that man with your life?
willing to take a bullet for them?
behind every great man is a great woman…

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This is a dream full of desires,
and I like to think
when we go to sleep eternally

our soul
will not be without
the rest in heaven.

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sometimes I feel like my long hair
what hides and reveals 
what some version
small and soft 
lives tangled in the unkempt locks
where it takes work to get to my mother's eyes
her cheekbones
a hair's breadth between. 
it's the distance between being looked at 
and being seen. 

shorn, I feel the shame of nakedness 
rather than it's splendor 

I feel the parts of me worth hiding 
in t...

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Hoop Jumping Writers
The writers have to jump thru hoops
Like trained pet dogs for a biscuit
The biscuit is a publishing deal
Or poem in print or online story
The publisher says jump
The writers ask how high?
Have you ever seen jumping writers?
The funniest sight you’ll see
All jumping together jump jump jump!
Jumping thru hoops to get in print
Doing anything for a deal
Some even leap ...

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I've been in my feelings
and in my head for years.
I've built walls and
called them boundaries only
to wake up one day and realize
that I've boxed myself in

and that's the tragedy in it all;

in keeping myself safe
I've locked everything out.
and what a sad way to live,
peaceful and
picking my own muse 
to pieces until the only thing
left is
a bloody pile of 
everything I used to...

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I'm afraid I'll lose my edge
if I don't cut myself with it

afraid there's no proof
of my life
if it isn't pouring crimson

afraid that 
I'm living in vain if
I'm not
living in vein

Im afraid I'll lose my edge
if I don't cut myself with it

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There are times I sit with pen in hand,
staring into the blank heart of the unmarked page,
as if it were a pond and I—a boy with no fish to show.

Words won’t come, as stubborn as a mule,
having wandered off to some far corner of the farm.
I am left with the rustle of the wind,
the idle chatter of the keyboard ticking time away.

Yes, in an old-world style I toy with rhymes,
abab or some...

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I see you here, I see you there
You sit upon my shoulder.
Biting thoughts, psychosis.
My voice it grows much colder.

Do I need to hear, I've failed this time,
You whisper in my ear
Clouded thoughts, depression
"You'll never be a seer"

"Your words they have no place
There nothing on their own"
Darkened verse, bipolar
Deep seeds of doubt are sown

Words are getting easier,
thi...

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told you about all my hopes and dreams

I wanna be a writer and teacher,

the only things I feel like i'd be good at

you ask to see my work and I refuse to show you

a few months later I joke about how funny I am 

you say I should become a comedian

to be honest I've thought about it

why not dump all my trauma onto people and merely laugh it off?

after we broke up I t...

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