grace

you inspire me

Hey Bae

Send me a pic of you..right now. I wanna write something....and you...

Well....you inspire me.

Your smile, your eyes...your spirit....it's refreshing...I would be lying if I said I didn't find you attractive....and physically you’re the type of beautiful I would date....hold...kiss...wanting to learn every curve, every inch, every detail of your body....but more than any of that...well...

There’s something about your spirit....your eagerness to learn and find your purpose...your passion...Your....You.

But I’m a dreamer....a fantasy believer....I still imagine fairies and white witches flying and living in the forest....and I imagine mermaids like listening to Beyonce also....that would be cool....I'm a big kid, I'm a Poet....I like puppies and I'm a sucker for candy....

And I love God and miracles and the possibility that some day Earth will know Peace again...she's been away too long....and maybe I’m naive enough to think you may read all of this and understand....who knows. I just want to see a picture of you...one taken right now, cause you inspire me.

soulmate

i knew you before time was time
before this spinning earth had formed
before the stars took their rightful place
in the skies above

i knew you before words before
institutions and man found it
necessary to define and describe
things they don’t understand

nestled together we were speeding
atoms in a bond both tight and minut
as one of one with jupiter and mars and
salamanders elephants and trees however

intrinsic thought found need to
express itself in the most grandest manner
bursting us lightyears ages and spaces apart
our rhythms still in sync

at last we are rejoined in costa rica a
cafe a movie theatre beneath a
palm along the nile the drool from a
new born’s smile

i knew you then i know you now without
coincidence or condition nor conclusion
no descript can define us but for man’s
satisfaction we’ll call this "love".

orange

so true

i sit

waiting
watching
wishing for that bulge to
appear
always after we’ve smoked a
blunt or two

i knew that in a matter of time
it’s presence
would make clear
the reason i was here
the reason i loved yellow boys
the reason i would never marry
at least not in the eyes of God
the reason sons kill themselves or
leave their home never to return
the reason some little boys cry at night
longing for their father’s acceptance
his genuine love
attention

the reason why caged birds sing and
why flowers never blossom in the
back yards of little boys who liked to dress and
take care of others
no flowers bloomed for them only
balled fists with the power of buildings
falling on puppies or
sharp mean words loaded with hate like strategic tv
ruining the innocent minds of children who know not who they are
their destiny changed forever

god must have made the mistake of
puttin the delicious desire to be touched and caressed by strong black hands roughened with
calluses from building america and then carrying her burdens from
cotton to bridges for
colored only
less than equal
powerfully inferior yet
surviving strongly those
strong black hands that held mama’s when she pushed forth life this
life that they both created underneath a starry sky with a kiss from God the
same life those strong black hands would strike and abuse without a single touch
absent

the worst thing you can do to a person is to ignore them
the worst thing you can do to a son is to not care
is this what’s wrong with little black boys from the projects or
little black boys from the suburbs
do they become abandoned like a racehorse with a broken leg a
tampon after its’ purpose is satisfied
flushed down porcelain toilets with blue water
into oceans to be used and bullied by sharks and tidal currents
only to become a grown man lacking the confidence to believe in his own dreams
or the confidence to know he is all right; able and capable
of saving the world

peace, puppies and flowers are all birthed with the
necessity to be loved, nurtured, and accepted and
so do little boys who someday
realize they are
gay.

12 Angry Nurses and Satan

Could not hold me back from seeing the sunshine again. 

The thoughts and prayers of my friends.
Those who spend their days being good Catholics, jumping from pews doing that Blues Brothers shit, I salute and thank you. 

In this living life of wars, no judging my views, cause our Gods find sacred that vow. 

Get up, get out, and do something...just try and avoid the things that can cause a night mare of your dreams. 

Get up get out and get something....tomorrow's not promised; pissing on yourself in open pajamas.

Get up get out and be something...this ain't no dress rehearsal man you can't keep doing that same shit over and over again.

So here it is a reminder a photograph to remember.
I was 20 minutes from the morgue...I'm just saying...evaluate what YOU'RE living for.

Thanks again to all those from the Port to the A and places in between that prayed for me, that thought of me, that kept me. 

I am forever grateful and and I am forever changed...still recovering, but my thought's are not the same.

to kill a mockingbird

they’ve all asked and

i’ve sworn to secrecy on 

the sex of mockingbirds

who never fly south

too good to move on or 

too lazy to put forth the effort

a life of coke and leisure

i pleasure their company with mine

allowing myself to be chopped

broken down and then snorted

dirty hundreds or crisp twenties

corners of torn match books from QT

brown liquor numbs this 

brown boy’s blues

clinking of ice cubes in 

crystal tumblers 

snapping pictures posting on 

instagram and tumblr

ill never speak on the affairs or 

encounters or the events that 

circumstance and southern lust

privies me for

to kill a mockingbird is

cowardly where i’m from

Saturday, March 16, 2013: Death of a Vampire

I found it...at the bottom of the coke bag
I found it
I had been searching and searching
Old faces replaced by new ones
Friends becoming strangers
Succubus takes shelter
Knowing I’m a lonely vampire
With a weakness for things young, wild, and free
His garlic filled seaman and cold silver touches
Crippled me
I found shelter in the dark-

Up late nights thirsting for his sweet bitter blood
Addicted to him
Hurt
Neglect
Disappointment
Disrespected
Distant
Disappearing
Drowning myself in snow falling from porcelain plates
Shoveling my way with used QT straws
No angels to be made
Just cold
Too cold
Too dark
Too old am I to be here.