somebody on the stoop preachin' at sunrise,
hands like currency counting the day in nickels,
mama's coffee burned but she sips it proud—
that bitter better than the silence of empty pockets.
we move through the city like saved prayers,
feet slick on ...

Oh yeah SC that heat has hit the fan

Wont miss Summer you at all not

the one that need a sun baked tan

If nothin else summer glad

to see you go so I can play this

beautiful song by the beautiful

Angel of the night Angela Bofill a

forever fa...

Every morning is a grand rising,

ascending in the midst of your vast

mind,

you priming mine to paint it

with your lightness.

Where chaotic strokes of weight

used to be, you wash the canvas clean

in regal gold, and reinvent the sharp

She speaks to me in a whisper,

touching me deeply, jolting my

mind in a way that made me

change it. Now I’ve come to

believe in a love with a

nonexistent full-body presence—

one that is heaven-sent.

Ever since that celestial kiss

of w...

I knew I wouldn't remember yesterday
so
I wrote it down
just in case I needed to refer back to moments I didn't remember
or
emotions were typing on my keyboard on its own
or
ejaculated from my pen
and I knew nothing about it
until I read ...

My Anesthesia,

you keep me under your power

the way you put me to bed.

The way you tuck me in tight

is a wonderful touch, feeling

the midnight in your flora duvet.

I drift in the quiet, a willing surrender,

where shadows dissolve into s...

A Real Clothes Line

Remember the first night got incoming I

was runnin so hard to get to the bunker line

Been in country two weeks waiting for unit

to b assigned pullin details filling sand bags

pickin up cigarette butts KP Gu...

my pen
up and jumped off the kitchen table
silverware and glasses fell to the floor
the while thing wobbled
all four legs became unstable
dazed for a moment
dreaming I was the main character in Aesop's fable
my pen cursed at me
demanding I...

All is quiet—

in the valley that deepens,

until he puts a finger on her mind,

causing an influx of drips.

A moisture that is loud

to the cognitives of

what he calls pleasurable rifts.

The way they slip

over the tip of his words

is ...

A Luna wolf has been spotted in the London area do not attempt to overtake

Please do not approach

This rare pink wolf is considered extremely dangerous when encroached

The nerve of those peasants calling me a… a…wolf on the prowl.. wow...

To the man who holds the ransom of my heart
The fine line shielded behind the clause
Holding my presence in the cloak of midnight
Tender emollients he rubs into the pores of my skin
From head to toe, his palms wondrously gallop along the s...

This piece is my response to a poetess on the topic of morality and faith. Her original words are not included out of respect for her authorship and copyright.

I can appreciate your point of view in the fairest sense of respectability in the kn...

Don’t look now,

just be you and his eyes

will find your artifacts.

You have been digging to

locate what makes you a

treasure when you shouldn’t

have to ask.

Don’t ever question what

makes you a good coin

amongst many—

a penny...

Listen—
the block keeps its hymns in the cracks of the sidewalk,
the mortar where babies' names were whispered like prayers.
We pass them hand to hand, cigarette ember to porch light,
tell the wind our business in the language of boiled gree...

Im a picky eater and Im not waiting for it either. I want exactly what I am asking for from the Universe, saucy and all. I want to indulge and at the same time be of service. I have been swaying back and forth at this dinner table, the odd part is...

My writing season on the way This poem the number 2 most viewd poem of the 700 plus I have posted

Writing just an outlet

for me

good therapy for

my PTSD

not out to save or

convert the world

Never use it to pursue or woo

some special woma...

My mind has been wandering,

wading through every thought,

dismissing those that aren’t of

you.

For they are just distant hums,

blurs of noise I rummage through.

Every path my attention takes

just loops back to what you bring,

leaving m...

I’m shooting from the heart,

Cupid’s hanging off my shoulder,

reloading his bow, aimed directly

at you.

For this love isn’t superficial—

it cuts deep, drawing your blood,

preparing a stretched canvas

where you’re the muse.

Le...

(I wrote this to my son and felt that there are others that may need this word of encouragement)

Good morning son,
Ijust wanted to share this message that was on my heart.
Son, as we both know, our words are Powerful, so I would like for yo...