Privileged American Floors

Living constantly in a four walled room
that takes the same keys at all of it’s doors
see all our neighbors thru the windows
because nobody has decency anymore

and that same recipe calls for the two kinds of cake that everybody wants
so they can eat and have their food fight live

some eat with their hands

and some eat with their knives

and some just starve on their hamster wheels

quickly spinning blind

 

and me and all my neighbors

are Living on the grid of a hard wired hangover

and a stimulation high

of a sensitized extravagant soul

and zombified mind

wishing and hoping our cake gets its prize

and all the tenants run for the same door

but not till the shit gets tracked all over this

privileged American floor

we listen to music from paper mache singers
and we read stories about other zombies
and fall in love with vampires
and we think of Mao fondly

because we cant stand being alive
and the effort it takes to breathe
but we sure don’t want to die
and we clearly dont want to leave

our foreclosed house
funded by our virtual needs
and we keep watering
our rootless trees

and we just keep

Living constantly in a four walled room
that takes the same keys at all of it’s doors
and the curtains are waiting to be hung
because nobody has in decency anymore

and in our desperation we cant seem to get through those doors

without leaving shit on our privileged American floors

 

 

 

 

In the way words hold memories

and memories hold words

sometimes to imprint harshly

and sometimes to undo damages done

some words gave wings

and spaces made those wings fly

in places maybe only poets understand

and understand what words cant explain

even in silences working things out

preparing for the replenish
to be expressed

in that space my wings are folded

listening to silence
or a hum drum hum

that is waiting for that expression

listening for the things only poets understand

or working it out
knowing I might not hear it again

butterfly-wallpaper-6 (1)

Thank You

To the man who heard my voice

and let me in his world

Thank you

For the late nights

talking about nothing but everything

and all those lines

all those lines in between

Thank You

In this world of definitions

about whats real or beneficial

baby you were real and beneficial to me

for all the involvement and authenticity

for saying your own thank you

when it wasn’t necessary

for all the grateful times

thank you
for letting me unwind

after small disasters in my life

thank you

for just letting me in
giving time sensitive advice

from a fully lived life

thank you

for the love and muchness

that was ours in our moments

thank you

for allowing this creative woman
to be creative
and act out in rare forms
outside the box

and outside the world

Thank you

for always thanking me for being me

Thank you
Thank you for being my friend
being a kind of lover
and being a man

 

Certain Things

I walked into some stores the other day

lined with music I used to escape in

but there is some grievances

that no escaping can find

Used to be some buzz

to numb certain aches

but there are certain aches

that fixes in there many forms

will search but just not find

so I left as I came just empty handed

and no alter egos to blame

There are certain losses

that cant be made up

cant be discarded

cant be written out of mind
like some exorcism of the soul

veiling out a bunch of hyperbole
that no one understand or

inquiring minds even care to know

no artificial fills
will make up this hole

sometimes its going through it

or so I’m told

 

 

Glimmer Train in My Mind

I was riding the glimmer train in my mind
it had been too long
too long since I felt this high

I had my feet in the dirt
and my head in the sky

why is it only certain voices matter
on certain sexes and colors
if you are a woman you better have it all
you better rock the vote but only for choice

love and peace and stuff
but not for no man in your life

why is that they want you to have it all
but want you to also hate those that do
and why do we ignore the ethnic thinkers,speakers and inventors

that don’t identify as victims
seems like nothing is really real

anything you see is up for the steal

and all our loves and wants and stories

on some level get plagiarized
or twisted until they are unrecognizable reflections

or just plain lies

I had gotten down so low

and remembered some talks and prayers

and advisory or just some moments shared

and remembered getting on that glimmer train

in my mind

yeah it had been too long since I got that high
with my feet in the dirt
and my head in the sky

typewriter

The Story

Allot of people have things to say
Or maybe they have to say something
Add words to dead space
assumptions about to sing
Everybody’s a poet
Plagiarizing words
Leaving meaning in a void
A story only I can tell
A story only you can see
They can take allot of things
But some things always will be free
Veil a few lines
In the nuances and grooves
Like the classics used to
I see that
I can hear that
Everyone loves it
Until they know what it means
Sometimes this isn’t surface
And it’s not what it seems
You know they’re coming
Coming for people like me
And allot if people have things to say
And this just mine
Or just my way
Everyone can tell a story
But no one can tell mine
The one I see coming
The one out there on the line
Sometimes it’s not surface
The things we say
A story only you can tell
A story only I can see
They can take allot of things
But they can’t take what’s free