Betty

I want to write but my mind is so scattered
Like plates of glass shattered by sardonic lazars of sound.
It’s these thoughts that resound in my body profound.
Resurrections of mind candy culinary confections.
Dissecting the past in mass deceptions
History’s how your write it, what’s my directions?
My fingers reek of crimes; green and sweet and divine.
How can it be legal to make heaven a crime?
Freedom is knowledge and I bequeath mine.
Get after it go drink your wine.
Take your time before judging others.
Take your own advice.
Try not to smoother.
Block out the sound,
Betty when you call me you can call me Al!

Yesterday

My mind melts magnetic.

Pulled to the greater pole.

My soul is a drop of water.

Disconnected in the speed of rain;

only to find the ocean once again.

You are my friend.

Active culture is the ride.

Separation breaks us  into tides.

Ages are stages but thoughts are contagious.

So tired of watching the rage inflame us.

Popped Trust.

Dream of self-lust.

These ideas are far from Notorious

May not pop pistols or sip models while fucking Cristal.

I can roll it up and kick it.

That’s quite enough chirping from this self proclaimed cricket.

Coffee dark, aroma black.

I’m learning slowly to give back.

T.N.H. said to forgive so did

Jesus.  The state of the nation leaves

much illusion between us.

Your ashes will burn in the fire of the stars

Whether or not you believe in “life” on Mars.

Static tensions;

27 dimensions if you

Sting the theories together

Anger spreads;

Rwanda is the profit of dread.

Knitting words; conjunctive verb?

Shopping for debt in the safe suburbs.

Geographic locations = stratifications.

I’m still playing off student loans with little vocation.  

My Herd of Larmas

Blue Moon Baby

She cut me out!

Off the pictures of the memories

What it’s all about?

Like a cancer born in June

Or a baby of the blue moon.

One of a kind

some how

 beats

the Nuts

Like double vision with precious

Ladies dancing on a pole

Fear takes hold of the body.

Talk that shit, I think it gaudy.

But fuck it, we came to party,

We do start a bit of trouble,

But we don’t bother anybody.

Heads up.

Show down

Push it in.

Play a round.

Flop it over.

Let it ride.

Its a game no one makes out alive.

World Veiws

Street Industrialist

Hustle. Grind. Keep
Your guard up.
Criminal Master mind.
You just don’t give a fuck.
Acquire and Package and Divide.
Move; you’ll never unwind.
Find a game, take a turn.
Watch the people
Flip a burn. Six-three
Doesn’t matter to an all in ‘G’.
Play your hand
Crack a rhyme
No worries if you
Lose some times.

A world view.

The high can always get higher.
That’s what the peyote runners
screamed out in the desert nights.
Chasing that high.
Reaching new Heights.

Lost alone in the expanses
Romance is a lost art
Geishas making pop tarts.

All types of people interacting
Reacting…boiling &
Back drafting.

Drawing down on the River.
Gliding on ace pontoons
Everyone is due there time.
Bust a rhyme.
Make a movement.
To improve rent?
Never! Repent Love.

You are what I think of while
I’m insightful.
Manifesting waiting until I get interesting.

The constant clicking of stacking chips.
Laugh with porcelain faces.
Bluff a trash talk.
Play the people. Win their minds?
Bells chimes intertwined.

Poem for Susan

Still stars shutter in Parallax
Dripping their light into dark ink
The growing moon left soft to wax.
Chocolate irises dilate under winks.

Sun burning in a frozen sky
Formations flush diamonds
Howling winds snaking by
Bowed birches on the mend

Pools of water ripple aquamarine
Ivory bones washed pristine
Geyser building heads of steam
Callous mixtures bathing dirt clean.

Alone is not the answer
Together we stroll along
Slipping moonwalk dancers
To our very own song

At a Glance.

My brain is a bit reflexive,
a contusion of popular cultures and drama trends.
Trying to push your brain outside your head;
vortex of nothing but lead.
Life is a game with the devil, and the angel’s trashed.
So let me rehash the painful past for a moment.
I’m not trying to make an atonement,
my thoughts are constellations,
The migrations of nations.
Before I get caught in the real world
A matrix of solid playground
and alone in the dark,
I’ll slide right down to the garden of thoughts.
It’s like Easter eggs covered in spots.
When my head aches
I think about all the times
I’ve let my prose turn in to rhymes.
I wish I could channel sublime
feeling of love,
This ending seems kind of abrupt!

Photo by

Zulaikah Anderson.

Chess.

I had a King sized bed,
Moreover, my sovereign lost his head
Spoke of subjects ethereal in weight
Dictated Zen in a soapbox state
Sympathizing with leaking eyes
I offered up robes with amethyst dyes
He stripped himself bare
Stepped down off his golden chair
Walked into the forest without a care
I metamorphosed into the Queen of Hearts
Sneakily baking Rohypnol tarts
Sent out spies to lure and ply.
Yet meditating under willows the King simply sighed.
Refused the food, just thought to wait
So I sent a representative who engaged in debate
Then west met east in trees shade
It was pronounced it a love crusade.
Enlightened tongues was laced with hypnotic lines
The King bequeath karma wine,
One by one they marched to fate
And all join under the shade with my prodigal mate.
At last my ivory castle held but I
Smashed all the mirrors but couldn’t reach the sky.