shell

to pre-conceive a notion
it has to be real
not to those who listen
but to those who know
they watch on gently
sometimes help out
the cut is too deep
we must figure it out

4 books alas!
which one makes most sense
I found my leading lady
she makes me want to love again

is this is a dream?
is this really happening?
i've waited for years
we'll kiss and make love

is this only a dream?
thank any god for your luck
as I get under the blanket
with my belle, my equal
my friend, my heart
my belle

my shell

parachute pants

I fell off my bicycle the other day
the monarch will fail
my thigh hurts
so does my elbow
it recreated itself as I watched
with soap and water

I had it
will it come back to me or is it over?
is the dream over?
has it stopped?
losing my mind in the gallows
no a/c, just heat

I move my bed downstairs
comfort
maybe
hopefulness
I doubt it

I fell
will i get back up?
she's waiting with me
the bus arrives
we boredly board
I kiss her and she smiles

"why hello there sunshine"
in a silly voice
it gets me through life
thinking i have something worthwhile
I don't know anymore
wow, the keyboard works on its own

the cue is now
try to find the moment
can I come back?
can I return and speak what thus I know?

did I tell you I fell off my bicycle?
that's just the inciting force,
to madness, despair, maybe love

can you grant three wishes, my genie friend?
will I stay in the underground?
I try to think nicely

did I tell you I fell off my bicycle?

moments

she calls
the wild called
she couldn't stop herself
i'm there to help but she can't stop
she's addicted to the pain
the mayhem, the mannequin
lost in her world
maneuvering herself around
money
wads and wads of money
he shows her
she drools
a better life
maybe a future
she's just so hopeless
stubborn
afraid
high
always high
never listening to a solution
her problems become mine
i ache
i need
i want
she makes me drool
i like it
no i don't
though
i can't stop listening

edit to Idiot Savant

The sun going down on Cape Town was etched in my conscious memory as one of the most beautiful, intrinsic events that I would ever experience. And when I was off duty, I would go to immerse myself in the Johannesburg nightlife, entertained by the beauty of the dark skinned women and the lighter skinned locals. I was still shy at this point and I needed to find a woman because maybe it would take my sorrows away from where I was and why I was there. Why was I there anyways? I just followed orders and took my chances. This could have been anywhere else but I was here.

     

I met her at 19. She was a brown skinned woman and she was 19 as well. I didn't really want to have sex at this point. My mind was on my job and it would take a special woman to get me whatever "out" meant. We would make out in the vegetable garden for hours and look into the sky. I was happy. Is this what love feels like? Nothing like the school nurse or Edna or any other of the women I would meet.

     

I fell in love in a vegetable garden, June 7.

    

She didn't speak English and there were no words to say, just eye contact and smiles. She'd grab my hand when it started raining that night and directed me to a sign of the cross and this was the first time I prayed with someone other than my mother. She closed her eyes and I closed mine and we disappeared into an entity and I broke out laughing uncontrollably and she smiled, with all her pearly white teeth and we were coming. I wanted her, but I had to think of why I was there in the first place, and it was to guard the High Commission of Canada.

    

We kissed, with no tongue, and I pecked at her cheeks and all we did was laugh. I couldn't speak to her and she couldn't speak to me but it was love. And I knew it would end and she disappeared into a crowd in Johannesburg and I never saw her again.

     

Love.

     

I didn't want to go to work the next day. Not able to sleep, I got out of bed at 04:00 and just prayed. I prayed for her and I prayed for me and I prayed for love. I prayed for love. Her love. My love. And the love of the one who knows. My love. And I prayed for an hour. An eternity of prayer and love. One love. My love.

battery operated utopia

battery operated utopia
same as Generation iON
except we plug in to a ghost in the wall
how to play instead how to learn
people and phones and classrooms don't exist
the pen no longer bears the truth
only soliloquies  and prose
write down what makes sense to you
for we are all battery operated now
there's no going back
no more easy bake oven
no more Winston Churchill
only mass consumption and consumerism
damn i need a scotch
my pen broke
phone numbers every where
does it make sense now?
are we destined for the stage of life?
edit edit first draft
publish til your fingers bleed
does it make sense now?
i jibber jabber
squeak and hiss
my eyes feel heavy
like a restless sleep
good morning then good night
which one is the same?

faith

Faith, free from fear
opens the gate
lets the dogs in
out
feeds them
bathes them
loves
loves them
how can there be love of a stray
success
is there meaning
has it gone away
thus vanish before my sight
pain
sitting down
standing up
hoola hoops
dance the pain away
back to faith
believe
understand
acknowledge
advise
know
you have to know
epistemology
formal or informal
inform, in context
repeat
electronic soap
a porta potty
guide us where we belong
mouthwash
homeward bound via cigar
cuban
trust
freedom
faith
syndication
faith
Lisa in both terms
one now
one soon
what will,
what can we accompish?

fear

there's nothing more frightening than fear
it will decimate a man
it will obsess a woman
each one living in their own private fear
nurturing themselves 

 children have fear
the ghosts in the basement
the attic of monsters
the clown underneath their bed
the vampire in the closet

women have more fear
not having that stripe every month
men fear for women
loss, ego death, decay
jobs and enigmas and garbage picking
walk into the office is enough fear 

sex is fear
release
bonding
no answers, only lust
sex releases fear for one tiny thump
back to normal
cigarette

nail-biting and neck itching
fear of not getting junk
naked lunch
forks
forks to mouth
food on them

fear of acceptance
fear to belong
fear of the brain
travels through the cortex into our soul
fear and trembling
fear and nothingness
a page in the back of the newspaper
the milk carton
the jail door
fear is about never leaving anything behind
the aliens, vikings and moors
the ottomans
fear of never existing
losing the battle

dream fear and loss
loathing
out of context
paranoid
find a way to the bathroom stall
fear of the toilet seat
fear of water
fear of lies

fears of scab picking
fears of spiders
animals, light, houses, medication
more fear
nothing but fear
always more
fear out of context
fear of being in
fear of being out

thus,
fear