Number 63...Virtuoso of Bygones.

I should have known
that you are nothing but
a hill climber and a curtain holder
never in the shadows tethered but
by the full moon , conquered
nothing but
a summer music maker
ice cream and trouble
a canvass for left-overs
all that's left are the Brazilian blues.

I should have known
that you aced at tennis
liked African beer
read up on the enemy and
played taps for your lovers.

I should have guessed
that you were an Exodus hero
a specialist of
plays and races
a time machine.
Worthy regret
I should have known
of how you use shadows
know the Greek alphabet
speak French with no accent
and collect second hands.
I should have known
you are a virtuoso of bygones.

My

i fell in love
emotions and motions
blurry and heartbeat fast
colors lit fires in my head
words burned like logs
and kept me warm
why would i move from here?

i fell in love
with sneaking out
to grope with the moon
and in alleys we prayed together
to the same creator

i fell in love
and divorced my family
i married the streets and lived
with our offspring of words
the world slowed down all about me
and at last i was free.

Shadow

without
her words
to love my ear
without
her secret
name to hear
there is
no wave
to flood my roll
no key
for me
to call my own.

Soft

a thought in random silence
steps into open air
internal songs like flowers
and inner peace flow there
i work my mind in ernest
and face each battle brave
i fight against the master
i fight against the slave.

Park Extention Boys

drugs do us
tough play
rough be

anger is me
straight hate
screwed me

we be our own be
down souls
drag free

no coffin shining
just we.

Gently Touch

gently touch
this summer breeze
and say goodbye
before you leave
with nothing left
there's none to keep
no kindness here
no love too deep
my eyes now bleed
and see no more
and no more kisses
for these lips to store
endles pleasures
ended.

The Lesson

I consume the mistakes I've made, like forbidden nectar. Alone at night with the sounds that silence makes.
I sip them slowly, it's the way it was meant for me, enjoying the way it makes me human.
The way I bleed. Can't blame a soul. No-one gave me what I didn't ask for, and I asked for it all.
My wounds are my own. I made them.
Some I created quickly, others I took my time with. Nurturing them, making sure the cut was deep.
If you could only see how these scars have set me free.
How beautifully they have taught me to cry.

Answer to Dawn Winters

a poet
not God
am I
I can see
I can hear
I can lie
I use words
to cheat
to punch holes
to heat
answering those
who try
a poet
but no God
am I.

Begin

begin
first give me birth
then quickly
give me the nipple
i make no distinctions of where my lips end
and yours begin
i know all about the rainbow
but i'm egocentric and
i want to change it's colors
to move them
and give them a home in your thoughts.

Number 15 and a Half

I tempted Death with arrogance,
Destiny with dice,
He filled my life with pestilence,
She filled my head with lice.

I challenged God to war with me,
To trade in bloody blows,
So He created tragedy,
To keep me on my toes.

I chose to slap the Devil's face,
With him a duel to fight,
I let him choose the time and place,
He let me choose my plight.

Merlot Lips

Your Merlot lips,
midnight instruments of long stories
like garlands, drape the hours.

Maybe if

Maybe if,
I stay right here,
with all the masks off and on my knees,
with your scars guiding my lips in the dark,
I could kiss and coax hope,
down past your belly,
to that place between your fears.
Maybe if
I whisper loud enough to break the silence,
loud enough to shatter the distance and start a fire.
I'll burn away the uncertainty
and replace it with desire.

I Have No Wish to Fight

please understand,
i have no wish to fight.
i'm just on fire,
burning with silenced metaphors.
refusing to kneel,
oppositional and alive.
just another vibration armed with syllables,
waging wars for my pleasure.
please be kind to everyone,
but me.
i need the conflict.
i'm addicted to sentences,
to poetry and prose.
a hit to my fix,
so fix me a hit and
lets joust with a word or two.
i promise to be who i am.

I Refuse

I refuse existence if there are no dreams,
no purple feelings.
It's not about the money,
just the immortality.
Like a wet reflection
or a dry tear
I refuse existence if there is no timeline,
no pain, no brush with bitterness.
I need to french kiss with touch,
to be tugged and pulled forward,
to be pushed and shoved back.