Just darkness

Nothing in this world is worth my impressed state of inspiration.  No man nor woman has shown a glimmer of that burst that put me down with 3 holes in my chest so long ago.  I remember who held the gun to my face as I blinked and it was all gone.  The pieces shattered with blood on the blinds and lamps broken with walls cracked.  I remember how much I wanted what would come next, but it didn't. A corpse walking in between cars, attending classes for some reason, going to work for some lifers, and all of it was for nothing and no more was I sure of going back to such a place.  It is no place for creative men with rebellious solutions, except I have no more wants and no more solutions.  A place in purgatory was set for me, and now I dwell there with no lights at the end of tunnels, just darkness.

Home

A home for me has been a dark and dreary spot for a man to dwell

Alone and cold hearted

Ice in my veins shaking these pale blue things from which warmth and love emanate from

A supplication I would have for this night

Is to get through it

Except I live in the darkness as other pass by

They would see my welcome mat with bright colored paintings 

Beautiful things

I miss the beautiful things that I found lost and found me in a dirty box

I miss how they drove this hand to pour blood and passion from a locked room to an open field

In this field people run as fast as they can with myopic vision of two

They retreat to the trees at night and hold their happiness with all their might

Warmer these trees grow higher than before

Swaying but staying as they move as one from now until they fall down to the floor

It never seems to be a possibility when you are flying so high and your wings flutter alongside angels’ wings

Once beautiful and new

Too long I have been in this kingdom of fools and slaves

Surrounded by the court jester as he laughs all day for others and never did you see such a humorous profession be sad

On some days you would see him around corners laughing for himself

True stories be told of his secret laughter

Kings and Queens run amuck in and out

I have seen pass in my time

Kings who were fat and rich with gold and love

Robbed beauty from the rest of us who live in this dreary dwelling

Warriors walk with large arms and fists and little brains

Rodents collect for hibernation and the cold winter ahead

Intellectuals….

Of scribe

Of science

Of mathematics

All share the same view down their noses on to us, the citizenry

We are the mob

We are the city

The one you hear

Its heart beat pound the cobblestone and dirt

This place too long, a change, has beseeched her with scars of oppression across her face

Once beautiful and new

War

When women are slain with the men

A devil sets his foot on the sands where his lie fuels bloodshed of children young and old

Buildings become rubble and debris for the newspapers to show the severity of war

A mockery of the lives lost to the hand of bombs and nation for the proportionality of securities unknown or otherwise

Others who hath lived in the wake of such devastation they are new story tellers for the generations to come into their home wasteland

Poetry mustn’t waver

It must push others to stand who lost the will with the loss of their uncle’s death and the three children bloodied for men far away sitting upon their thrown from which bodies built its comfort

Poetry must be more than enough

It would be the words of which people of war torn nations could speak without tongues but make noise loud enough for the mountaintops to hear

Poetry mustn’t leave the dead gone from this world but celebrate from the things they did in life

When tyrants go unfettered through murder and genocide

Only free men who do nothing are the devils I speak of

When good men omit action they leave women and children slain bloodies with hospitals turned to morgues

It is the duty of free men to do what is necessary to move on

Poetry is the way on

Words are the way on

Noise is the way on and they will hear me

Drifting side to side

Ahhh…The silence welcomes me as a brother and friend

A companion lost at sea

Drifting from side to side

Seagulls making noise in the back round

364 days a year

Today it has found me and made me home

Out in the middle dark blue abyss that bounces off the water from the sky

So dreary and vast

Yet today I am welcome by mother and father

Teased by my siblings

Uncle’s drunk giving unsolicited advice for future business plans not yet laid to rest

Grandmothers chatting in the corner of yesterday’s and tomorrow’s past

I am at home with the hospitality and warmth only they can give

Silence has given that to me

A calming of the rippled waters and sharp rocks cutting at my sides

Tomorrow they wait for me with mischievous eyes always fixed on me

As mine rest from tonight’s gift

Tomorrow waits and around each corner the bandits, they are laughing

Farther down the road I go

I could be remembered by my eyes or my arms or my chest that women cling to whenever we have come to that part of the night, when men and women love each other in the purity of their bodies.  Moving their bodies like they only can that drives us wild.  I could be remembered by the words used in my poetry and how it is eloquent and arrogant or passionate and filled with love.  I could be remembered for the things I have done in my time, in which ones could see me as a blunt asshole or just blunt.  I could be remembered as abrasive or passionate.  I do not know from which my memory will be displayed in the mind of those who choose to think back on me.  Right now I am alive and those who remember me can do so however they wish, but I couldn’t care less on the things rattling around in the droll sea of thoughts floating from side to side.  I am just trying to figure how I am going to live and die.  Love and cry from the love of that moment and how the music comes as it may.  I will create memories that I will be remembered however I am and right now I am making them.  Regardless how the world and people may see me, I am just going and going all day and all night until love may come when it will and so will the heartache.  Farther down the road I go.

I ain't it

They said give them the people and wipe away the debt

These people don’t even know they got a master

They don’t even know they got that leash tight around their throats

I could have just let it go but when they don’t keep their end like I know all greedy men don’t

This old traveling warrior scholar

Will set mind to pen and change

Give man power and you will sooner see it go to his head before it don’t

I wish I had left now that they got me fighting in their little revolution

Too bad for the other side I didn’t go because now I cannot stop

I will not step down from what needs doing

If that means paying the people and not the man…then so be it

Awoken of Father’s wrong doings

I do not know where to go but I know I can’t stay here

Where men go in circles to pay bills and work as to do it without stopping before the end

This world Father made for us is no world that can support humanity

Between cigarette burns and beatings of my mind

I cannot undo what has been done and led me to where I was always going

I have seen the truth and knowledge purity of them both

And such is that I cannot live like sheep

I will not

Live like cattle

Like prisoners

Who look the same and talk and walk the same according to the rules laid before them by their overlords

They best kill because I will not listen to what is not right and they are not right

I will not be lulled into a slumber with conformity playing the tune

Into enslavement these pieces of meat go but not I

Because that is death or something so much like it…I cannot tell the difference 

The Founders

In the hall of our heroes lie the dead men given to the record books

To tell their tales of courage rebellion and freedom

As we have come to a nation on this day in 2013

We have let the beasts run America

All the founders have died long ago who may have saved from this place we are in

I am not going out like this through doing what a good ole boy does

I will not go out like this

I shall stand tall for liberty

Stand tall for courage

Stand tall for rebellion

Stand tall for freedom

As does the free born

These men who never sit as to always be standing tall

Shouting

Screaming

Yelling

Howling for freedom

The people have been caste away by the government’s dime

I don’t know about the rest of y’all

But I aint going out like this

We free born men must rebel

As to illustrate the characteristics and features of freedom

From that pull your gaze to me and watch these hands burn it to the ground

Power control man government…all of it

To take kerosene to matches and as the wind carries my fiery message

To the so called politicians door step

They will know that the people will never be theirs for the taking again

Be love

Don’t be mad

Don’t be hate

Don’t be anything other than love

Love is warm in the cold summer nights lovers shroud themselves in

Be love not something else that may be other then you or I

Be love

To quell sorrow on the coming horizon

Do not be waiting

Darkness to cover you in a relentless storm

Be love that is the sun broken through the grey with yellow sunshine

Be love

I have never felt love before

I have never felt love before.  I have been with enough girls and women to know that by now.  I love my mother and my father and my siblings but that is a love you are born with and you just know.  Even though there hasn’t been one whom I could give myself to, I have lost myself in them and done what was needed.  I was transformed by the things we did and the things I felt.  I would call this time, localized insanity.  It happens frequently when I find someone that makes me feel nothing I have felt before.  Time and time again it would happen, and then I am obliterated.  I am not afraid of this, I welcome.  I do so, because it reminds me of my heart and how I hear it beating, even in the darkness it beats ever so loudly.  This cycle repeated and repeated and so I stopped.  I cannot and will not be the whimsy of young cowardly pretend lovers and neither will I give carnal embodiments of love.  No matter the grenade and the aftermath, I will love with the entirety of my heart.  The one who shall get my heart, body, and soul will be so great no female on this planet could measure to her prowess.  Until this person comes into my life and explodes all over the place, I will love fearlessly and be covered in the scars only lovers bear.  

I know love today

I have never loved like I have with you.  I never knew I loved someone like I love you.  It flows in all of me and I am beginning to think it may be possible to love someone so much that no matter what you do, you cannot die.  I never used to fear death not knowing what tomorrow would bring, and when it brought you suddenly I was petrified of what was to come on my deathbed if you were not here with me.  My heart never pounding against the bone and cartilage in my chest like this where bruises protrude onto my epidermis for the entire world to see like tattoos on the heart.  Except it kept spreading and spreading until my body was red from head to toe in passion.  When I was to see the next time, I would leap toward you and kiss you.  The stars would explode a merry dance across the sky that would leave me breathless in your arms as you clutch to my chest.  I never could feel so small in such small hands that could crush a grown man’s heart like yours could.  Each morning I would plead for you to stay and pull you to me hoping that today would not be the day for you to leave.  The coming days I would expect you to leave and when you were there each time, I could not imagine a more perfect woman.  I could not write or manifest such a lust and pursuit of anyone. Yet today on this day I know love and I know it with you and you alone.  

Lost and found

Can you imagine a time before now and you were bad and mean and angry, ugly as anything ever can be and then something happened…I used to be a thief, an enforcer, and filled with so much anger.  Slowly after each love I became softer still.  I only remembered one though that stuck out in my mind and she was so beautiful I could not imagine not looking into her big blue eyes.  Then one day she was just gone and no longer was I anything but broken fragmented and lost.  Nothing was left, not even me.  I lost my memory for years.  I couldn’t remember how to do it anymore.  I had forgotten my name, my life, my parents, and all of it was just gone.  Decades past I found something again leading me back to which I had come.  Yet I couldn’t have her, I couldn’t hold her, touch her or even speak with her.  Time had taken her from me just like my old childhood memories.  Were my parents loving or hating? Were my siblings similar or different colors upon the canvas? Was my love pure?  I would never know and yet I was given a second chance with all of these things.  Tears swelled up in my eye lids and felt a rush of a thousand horses running over my chest and with a bolt of lightning in the crowd, there she was once again and all I could do was stare as water filled my cheeks falling to the floor.  I belt out a scream crying loud and all the people looked at me and emotion of emotion shattered through the ice in my heart.  Engulfing me, surrounding me, devouring the fragmentation of my soul, that had been broken many years past.   I could hear my heart beating louder then I could remember, louder then hearts should beat.  I woke in the hospital to find a hand on mine and there she was.  I was stunned frozen by this miraculous reincarnation of my love.  I questioned her repeatedly as the delirium of a mad man, but she did not see a lunatic in a bed before her, just me.  No one had ever looked at me like this in my life and outside my window in the night fireworks burst over the peer as the manifestation of her touch to mine.  Machines buzzed and beeped and screamed loudly as the only way to interpret the evocation inside my skin raging.  The bulls of Pamplona running fast through the halls of the ICU as a bewildered trickle dropped down my spine.  Sensory after sensory overloading and imploding with the smile of this woman beside my bed.   

Eyes

How could you know what peers beyond the face of a man?

The guy in sweats and dirty with a 3 month beard

Or behind the eyes of a stoned out boy like me

That girl in a suit and tie

What does she think lovely thoughts of

Last night’s love rumble in her bed sheets and the screams that woke her neighbor at 404am

The man reading novels at the park wearing collars and glasses and other ordinary things

How about the bum on second and broadway

What do they think behind their eyes in the silence of the night 

Smile or die

Why are we here on this earth if it is not to smile?

If it is not to laugh?

If it is not to live?

If it is not to love?

To love….To love…To love

While hands used for such brutality as war a man hands hold complex purpose with violence among none

In which hands become black and blue

Where my hands have become pink purple and red for love and passion as my heart bleed straight into my hand

Even as the sun dwindles to the moon rising

If let to roam demons shall dance across the soil for which they have spoiled in the beginning

Allowing man’s will to be done with oppression and annihilation

Where once freedom was the birth right of all of the first peoples

Where men and women were merry and naked

Joyous and filled with laughter

As the globe spun around

I declared my life for love and hate would die into the soil as the demons did so long ago

As the green trees sprang high kissing the moon with their hands 

Real poem

I want real poets

Not bullies and dreams

I want to hear the poetry of lost souls

Who talk about homelessness and the warmth of a gun in their mouths of the sensation of a needle in their vein

I want to hear real poets

Not pseudo intellectuals who do what their told

I want to hear a real poem

Where a man gets drunk and fucks the woman he loves and then wakes to her gone

I want to hear about the dark corners people visit

I want to feel real poetry

Where people are broke and sleeping on concrete mattresses

Where shuffled homeless try to find warmth food in these cold winters coming with the east wind so quick it could kill

I want to hear real poetry from the hitchhikers and drifters

Who thumb down the road and move with the wind of cars whizzing by

I want a real poet

Not one of rhymes with sycophantic supplications of god and country

I want to see a real poet who fights for bread and dollars along with the revolutionaries in the streets who do not sleep

I want real poetry from men and women who fight for the one love with words and gumption of all that they do

I want to hear real poetry of fragmented souls trying to coalesce once again

Pseudo intellectuals

He who is of books

Is ignorant of the streets as its heart beats louder and screams are the people

In which they lie on the concrete under bridges and squat in abandon building poverty warming them with a needle in their vein and a belly empty since last winter that was colder than now

The intellectuals in universities and schools so foolishly idealists withholding such an ailment poisoning the mind

For they see only a world in which a scale is put to see the tilting of the tide

If done no wonder they hug trees and stand for the institution that told them of the books they read now

To see their governments from father time

Clock ticking backwards only sees the good done

As the people lie dying off the face of the watch that stands still

The street and I see the people shivering from the cold of a government’s word for repair that bares no warmth or satiation

Futility

They came from far and from near with country on their backs

Tools for futile actions such as politics always are

The plays of men to be the overcompensation of their superficial approval from daddy dearest

Or mothers overbearing and corrupting their young for the selfish things they could never possess

Their work done detriment long ago

As it was necessary for some reason that other men rule other men and women rule other women for their cliques

They so failingly tell themselves with no repute

Boredom

It was on the road that mad men burned and were heard as they lit roman candles across the sky and we were mad as men ever were

It was American who could not see the life ahead of them as they lived it

Building their bodies and degraded their minds

In doing so, distracted by gladiators like Rome once did

Slaves who were peddled by kings to be bloodied for the mob to subside their pains and sufferings

Large men who can only plunder and pillage minds of the youth to marionettes with strings above them pulling one by one

To be collected and uniformly transformed into walking, talking, overgrown mouth breathers without a thought of the hell they inhabit with shiny things to look at and beautiful creatures ever exploited

Man never before was so dumb and dull

I never knew a night with any in which my mind did not drew black before their sullied words of sport and misogyny

Ignorance and arrogance

Ugly as they thought themselves gorgeous 

Dead in the ground

Dancing hippies through the fields of joy and no worry

A place thought for people as of me

Tried the peace thing and departed did the feelings of hate

Yet rebellious ways grew roots underneath the earth and so they came to the surface

To see a man not fit for this revolt

Burying that dirty old hippy

Left is the angry righteous man of freedom and no acceptance among these nerdy people who read books all day and do not learn a thing

Except to memorize what is told and do exactly as they should

Me…I could not live a life of a number lined up row by row

I must stand on one foot balancing and shout as the other foot stomps down

A thunderous roar echoes in the room where silence bounces off the walls

A man at a podium ready for the revolution and it is coming

My question is whether the people will take up arms or whither to the death conformity has for told

Apollo's glare

It has been said and retold of the beasts out there on the streets but no one sees

They are too busy with getting fat and famous

Getting too dumb too quick

Finding a women's heart through her naked body

Being too cool too high too foolish too fast

They forget what is going on around us

Distraction is the game and the young do not stand a chance 

The warriors walking with the wombless and the hungry

Sometimes fall ill to distraction

Watching gladiatorial games while Caesar feeds war and conflict not of the people

Distraction she dips her venom in all of us

Sometimes to the point of delirious complacency

To job security

To meal stability

To shelter capabilities

But forget revolutionaries do not write and stand still

They do not eat feasts but search the dumpsters for scraps with the unwashed

Revolutionaries do not quietly into the cold dark night

They shout in the square upon Apollo's glare

Show me the ground

Revolutionaries seem to be that of color

Black

Brown

Whatever you are 

But if you are white

Then you have no right to complain

You are white 

Caucasian

Cracker

Gringo

Life is easy for you

You got all the money

Right....?

Wrong!

I am talking about the lost warriors of literary battle fields 

The artists whose parents said goodbye to

The drop outs told to grow up 

The lost souls given to the work force to figure it out

Who is here to speak of you?

Who is wondering will you make it?

I know this feeling like a tattoo from birth

If I was ever found to have grown up recite my poems to me

If I were ever to wear a tie, steal it from me

And if I am ever to put my pen down from paper and shout out 

Show me the ground