Exchanging histories, undiscovered blessing She was born with silent violet butterflies dancing in her “catch my breathe” eyes A surreal connection, depth with curves She walks with simplicity dripping from her mysterious and irresistible lips
And she sings with heartache and strength And she sings with brilliant magic And she sings with white hot conviction And her inner beauty is a magnificent star
I walk through the forest listening to her enchanted voice I walk through the forest following her footprints
Kindhearted edges, carrying wreckage She carries invincible wings over her worn out and distressed shoulders crystals floating in her periwinkle soul She lights up in the dark like a firefly armed with blistering faith
And she sings with heartache and strength And she sings with brilliant magic And she sings with white hot conviction And her inner beauty is a magnificent star
I walk through the forest concentrating on her enchanted voice I walk through the forest guided by her dazzling spirit
Invigorating flare, divine storm Slipping into a harmonious dimension wrapped up in all of your inferno vicious kisses, candy like touches immersed in your tactile desires, my muse Taste the hunger of the blazing star
And the electricity ripped the champagne sheets And the sparks lit up in the tragic skies
A liquid sigh, voluptuous wildfire gliding into a psychedelic mist surrounded by your musical sirens delightful growls, exotic whispers sparkling in the moonlight, my muse craving the thirst of the blazing star
And the provocative motion burned And the ricochet sent shockwaves
whiplashed tension, pulsating snake spiraling into a smoldering spasm toes curling, spellbinding tongue breathtaking havoc accelerating oblivion touching nerve endings, my muse yearning the skin of the blazing star
And the enigma was quite exquisite And the mesmerizing fever glistens forever
For I am the gust in this brilliant joy For I am the hope in these disorientated chapters For I am the trembling suspicion in the corner For I am the optimism in your stained pupils
And the fascination pierces in the burgundy sky
For I am the prosperity in this shattered mirror For I am the wisdom you have never heard For I am the glare in the whispering blur For I am the salt in your four seasons
And the enchantment glows in the burgundy sky
For I am the zest in your shaky bridges For I am the rainbow in your weeping azure For I am the shine in your rusty screams For I am the fear in your gripping wishes
And the artistry blooms in the burgundy sky
For I am the peace in your self destruction For I am the grit in your sandcastle For I am the treasure you haven’t touched For I am the daydream in your hallucinations
Slithers like a charcoal sidewinder French accent is a wicked aphrodisiac Natural head turner, twinkling nighthawk strutting her curves at the Foxglove Tavern A logical spinning conversationalist twirling liberal storyteller with satin lips dogs with saliva disregard the translation centered on the painted mask and surface neglecting and overlooking her education refusing to sift through her elegant layers ignoring her quiet pulsating sensitivity discounting her popular and beloved color suits craving sin with childish innuendos speaking bland three dollar pick up lines meaningless chatter leading to nothing outsmarting the tacky salesman pitch self respect higher than a skyscraper hidden goals remain underneath patience lingering in her queen size bed two hands on the steering wheel of self love
Sweet Ophelia, Out of morbid curiosity Are your lingering shadows in disbelief Bitter tongue bound and burned The scent of your scars never learned
Sweet Ophelia, Between your warmth and generosity How can you be in love with me Sadness is a hummingbird in my eyes Broken down with armor in disguise
“She deserves more than I could ever give, But she clenches on to me as long as we both shall live, Neither of us know what we deserve, With her by my side, I can see my worth”
Sweet Ophelia, Inside this snowflake feel the monstrosity Are you afraid I will be the one to leave Fear is the calm wrapped around my bones Whispering “you are my center and my home”
Sweet Ophelia, Of all the treasures and the uncertainty Faith is trusting in the power of what you can’t see How can you love a man who doesn’t love himself For I have forgiven the stars, nothing else
“She deserves more than I could ever give, But she clenches on to me as long as we both shall live, Neither of us know what we deserve, With her by my side, I can see my worth”
She use to be my enraptured muse A mystical raindrop that drenched my entirety guided by purity, kindness and authenticity unveiling the sentiments in navy ink written in the coveted firethorn notebook
In the afterglow she disappeared Stillness was the enemy
She use to be the prayer between both hands A snowflake cleansing my weary tongue navigated by a sweet hummingbird whistling displaying the verses with a keen eye penned in a diary surrounded by flames
In the afterglow she vanished tranquility was the rival
She use to be my northward carnival A buzzing gypsy crooning in my orchestra maneuvered by truth, sympathy and light revealing the lines with unseen impressions authored in a journal of mysterious flare
In the afterglow she escaped serenity was her shadow boxer
Television is a disturbance of luster and plentiful Television is a scandalous invention Television is a disruptive mechanism clogging your arteries Television is a vacuum sucking the cells from your cerebellum
And the imagination crumbled And the ingenuity succumbs And she seduces hour by hour
Television is nerve gas crippling your legs and motivation Television is a apparatus blended with hype and inferior hogwash Television is a machine gun of information with a steering wheel Television is a junkyard of contraband with sounds of justification
And the mind evaporates And the muscles sit And she seduces hour by hour
Television is a volatile substance with a grin Television is a crutch with a bomb chained to your feet Television is a fifty two inch rectangle civilians idolize Television is a glass religion with no faith
She will care for thirty seconds and write a novella of accusations She will pine for your sensitive hands and cry a stream of tears from a distance She will crave hours of chit chat and stare at grim skeletons in silence She will dance and twirl in the garden and be embarrassed of her defects in loneliness
“In my view, I was raped by his alluring vocabulary, molested by his wit and probed by his twinkling generosity. He turned me into a walking paradox.”
And the mystery within her dwells And the inconsistency smears her delusions And the absurdity fills her weary lungs And the enigma is like condensation And the anomaly marches within her mind
She will walk with poise and diligence and shout with obscenities doused in wildfire She will cherish the remains and residue and toss her pieces she loathes in the garbage She will wrap herself up in sanitized anxiety and chuck courage up against the wall She will run with convictions in her fist and ignore the principles that define her
And the secrecy within her is desolate And the conundrum drips frustration And the perplexity drains her focus And the complications steer her vision And the rattle stumbles within her mind
“In my perspective, I was poisoned by his compliments, fondled by his intellect and abused by his sincere confidence. He turned me into a walking paradox.”
Here I am, I don’t have followers I have sanguine blisters and indecisions stirring in my reckless mind I’ve stood in the corridor of my considerations and wide eyed aspirations I’ve been guided by intolerable vices, a stench of trivial knowledge and sarcasm I have concoctions growing in my garden I’ve borrowed money from my child like brother to rent a house not far from the Porcupine River We use to play like thieves, run like dogs, and wrestle in the amber mud for hours I live in a two bedroom apartment, One block away from the Midtown bakery On Sunday’s I can smell the Apple fritters I’ve worked at the local grocery store since I was fifteen “Lucky” isn’t a word in my vocabulary I bite my fingernails as I ponder in front of my 1971 typewriter From 9pm to 10pm I’m a rapid reader I fell in love with Mark Twain and the storytellers from the innocent wild Stuck on the lucid and elusive chapter ten Captivated between the commas and engaging dialogue I cough at the errors and sniffle at the page count of my thrill seeking novel I stretch out my imagination like a rubber band Manuscript growing like a an oak tree Here I am, born an offbeat writer The people who know me stand distant Afraid to crawl inside the brain of characters I left my day job at the age of forty two Perspiration and diligence were on my side
Excess and greed on your tongue is a virus concrete selfishness in your bones is a virus distaste is a pill you swallow that tsunamis into a virus malice is a never ending cough that explodes into a virus
And the spiral continues due to mass consumption And the circular poison seeps into your oxygen
hatred is a migraine that curves into a virus envy is a venom that distorts into a shape of a virus contempt is a concoction that awakens a virus indulgence is a sip of vertigo that provokes a virus
And the longing for abundant security boils your integrity in your blood cells And the hunger for wealth evolves in extermination
And I tumbled for the architecture of the cathedrals across the United States, And the bricklayers who cemented spirituality but shouted from rooftops at the turtle pace of change among all the religions And I found the backbone of faith and hope relies on the individuals silver wisdom “Experience” breaks or defines conviction And loyalty just doesn’t reside in a chapel I pray for the dying in my queen size bed blending creed and politics is a toxic brew And I cherished the artistic expressions on the tarp, I was once fond of the textures of our melting pot, I could taste the spices and the tranquility, I use to take walks in the garden of glee and feel the gust
But now the commander in chief raises his disturbing hands, disrespecting our ancestors, crippling the population, And the sun bursts through the smog with fury, the outbreak surges in the wind
The note is rejected… “embrace all the materialism, self righteous possessions, gold and glitter, let the poison eat your soul, feel the edges of your heart burn, you prioritized your choices, the angels left you a long time ago”
I can’t weep for the wicked and vicious I can’t weep for the manipulating tycoon I can’t weep for the shallow ministry I can’t weep for the blatant facade I can’t weep for the glowing charades I can’t weep for the brazen frontage I can’t weep for the vibrant myths I can’t weep for the singing deception
And the chill in the air reeks of self indulgence insects crawling on infectious patriarchs but numb from the riddles of greed spewing a language of hatred and fear And tearing into the poverty stricken class gazing out into the seas of madness And the wrecking machine, mechanisms, and the machinery used to oversee the mass It’s the weapon and invisible bomb slithering inside every human nervous system You cry out safety and protection, misleading from your glass throne, step by step you are entering your exodus, your skin is exiled but your veins are hollow, calling yourself a leader, rushing to dismantle and depopulate And the pieces of the massacre lies within you
But now the commander in chief raises his disturbing hands, disrespecting our ancestors, crippling the population, And the sun bursts through the smog with fury, the outbreak surges in the wind
The note is rejected… “embrace all the materialism, self righteous possessions, gold and glitter, let the poison eat your soul, feel the edges of your heart burn, you prioritized your choices, the angels left you a long time ago”
I can weep for the innocent I can weep for the fighters and warriors I can weep for the fearless soldiers I can weep for the sobbing children I can weep for the unheard prayers I can weep for the melody I never heard I can weep for the deserving souls I can weep for the fathers and mothers
And the sun will forever moan behind the clouds And technology will continue to evolve And God will remain quiet until the day he returns He will leave the soulless the keys to the inferno
I’m scrawling, swept away from the discord, pleading to the amber crescent, hanging in the audacious sky, gazing at the mindless clones, no dismay of what will become, aggravation turns into stone, eyelashes curve into dust, puddles of demise, a graphite cyclone revolving around the fall, a population relinquishing to the avalanche, I scowl to the prognosis, hindsight is rubble, my conjecture is not a conspiracy, veracity is underneath the facade, I refuse to swallow the debris, I trash the publications, I displace the buzzards, I ignore the indoctrination, I carry my drum, I am the feather that flies with placid eyes, I don’t place stamps on foreheads
To the awaken moon, I give you a letter of a thousand reasons To the awaken moon, I am fond of your glow To the awaken moon, I send you a letter to pass on to the unconscious sun
To the helpless sun, the indifference is a path to nevermore, but show us your sparkle, we pine for your radiance, numbness is not your color, your rays are in mourning, the lechery is within the choice, the preference to wear blinders, floundering into traps, shuffling excuses, pardon the shallow, explanation with holes, to the sun you are not accountable
I’m scrawling, furiously with an ambiguous message, forgive the gratuitous cyborgs, deception and the distortion was carved, the falsehood was chiseled, sculpted by self centered dastards, mercenaries injecting conflict with psychological warfare, no intersections, a blue print of disjuncture, a frazzled atmosphere, frayed and stripped, scoundrels running ramped, policies dipped into indulgence, documents soaked in disarray, I lean into the incoherent ramblings, methodical studies forged, verbatim tampered with spots of evasion, defamation spreading like a sickness, I refuse to consume the prozac, paragraphs bellow with a enriched voice
To the awaken moon, I give you a letter of a thousand reasons To the awaken moon, I am fond of your glow To the awaken moon, I send you a letter to pass on to the unconscious sun
To the forlorn and damaged sun, please shimmer where there is darkness, let the gleam fill in the crevices, please shine where pieces are lost, let the air rejoice in your magic, please be the aspiration to the cosmos, you are the enlightened preservation, you are the marvelous treasure, without you there is no growth, to the sun – you are not accused for the increased vibrations of the earth
I can foreshadow a society crumbling from applied science, twisting theories contorted plasma, and friction analysis thesis based on wealth and leaking myths Pillars from a system situated in sand a sinking infrastructure, vanishing unity colorless pupils plagued with a manuscript spineless leaders, particles of blunders piling up, giant omissions paralyzing the fabric, Programmed illnesses with a pinch of annihilation, nations weeping counterfeit drops of sadness, gradually seeking contemporary alliances, executive orders bleeding extermination, outlined syndromes with a hint of illusions, corruption in the palms of the establishment, enigmatic statistics catapulted in a ocean of the deceased
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I saw a glimpse of paradise, toddlers playing with brilliance, wonder, and a light breeze serenading through the air as a teenager drinking water from fire hydrants, in front of provincial chateaus, clarity and modesty was a thread, surrounded by a crooning sky of beliefs and faith, conviction is just an antique sitting in a clammy basement, wrapped up in newspaper with headlines of World War Two, buried in a crate labeled “Precious and few”, where dreams shifted, echoed, and the revolution within was smoldering, freedom was sung by entrepreneurs, capitalists, and poetry was a blue jay flying from tree to tree, love was a drink we all consumed and sipped all through the decorated nights, yet today the clowns wear painted tears and smiles are weary
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I am madly in love with the metaphors from Walt Whitman, sweetness waltzing through Dickinson’s verses, where landscapes feel the sunlight, rain drizzling on white picket fences, I fell for the similes that left glitter on my fingertips, ballads that reverberate within the words, stanzas that capture charm, but in the present I read a direct message, thoughts thrown on paper within seconds, impressions not thought provoking, automation becomes a crutch, loneliness seeking attention, reality drifting like a hitchhiker, dwindling patience, crime rising like flames in death-wish fields, scarecrows parading cracked pavement, insanity yells, neon lights flicker every three minutes, like an apocalypse, but keep your view on the illuminating screen, sarcasm spasms, bellies filled with microwaved meals
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I’ve browsed countless articles of chemicals being dumped in soil, animated creeks, flowing rivers, deep cobalt seas, and wide oceans sweep it under the Persian rug, deposit the funds, retract it, close the column, turn off the comments, ignore the facts, don’t read it, let your fog disregard the bedrock of our country, Freedom is the eagle on our printed currency “In God We Trust” wasn’t coined by non- believers, deceivers, and tinted lawmakers In a heap of literature, liberty isn’t just a statue, a symbolism of integrity, war and peace, mother of monuments, breathtaking torch, Goddess of our Declaration of Independence, classic signature standing in Manhattan, New York, she is the sanctuary of our nation, yesterday can’t be expelled, removed or deleted, Can I erase your self-righteous past?
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I’ve seen grownups stomp their feet, throw child like tantrums over slim debates with cursed words thrown like daggers I’ve seen electronic devices used to record heinous crimes, satirical protests, and mind bending disturbances across the globe videographers portraying innocence, displaying evidence, defending irresponsibility I’ve seen switchblades pulled out over loose change and collected indifferences I’ve seen incompetency to be irrelevant, tenure a driving force, dynasties collapsing I’ve seen bewilderment shine brighter than quickness and keen observations I’ve seen enlightenment and murky insight wither in closets at a candlelit masquerade
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I’ve seen cemetery’s of soldiers that gave you rights, freedom, and opportunities I’ve seen flags placed over coffins, brothers in arms subbing, veterans in wheelchairs, struggling to tell a tale, medals of honor with insomnia, abolished slavery, rise of women’s rights, PTSD worn on every soldiers sleeve, But keep your eyelids on the screens, watch “Grand Opening” signs become obsolete, do what you do best, do nothing, stand for nothing, mankind defusing, watch the word “Entitled” become sewn on our flag, replacing the fifty gold stars, watch Betsy Ross cringe, stare into the tears of the sun, feel the winter for decades ahead, watch the selfish gloat, glare at the chill, embrace the still of the frost,
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
Invincible Verses 