Where and When

Emptiness and loneliness echo inside me
Passionate kisses and groping do not fill the spaces
A hollowness wells up inside me
Nights are only shared with useless thought
In my mind I could save the world
Armed with pen and passion
With poems and kisses
But none of that touches me
I only pretend the scars are no longer hurting
I have only pushed them deeper down inside
Pen in hand
Black ink on blue lined spiril bound pages
The written word can only release me
But it does nothing to fill the void
No longer can I even call upon the past
There are no more hopes of fixing things lost
Only pictures of lost faces
With lost dreams still burning in their eyes
My hopelessness weights me down
Like Ophilia I wait with weriness to be pulled down
All I can do is wait
Death has only spit me out each time I seek it
It is not my time
Will I remain empty and hollow till then?
If not how long must I wait for something to fill me?
Where in life will I find new meaning?

If I was to find her

If I was to find her...

I will whisper into her ears those three words
Words sweeter than the songs that Solomon sang
I will journey across the seven seas in search of her
Either she be Lebanese or Dominican,
Or be she Chinese
I wont know until her face and eyes I see

Give me the bearing and I will hoist my sail
Follow her up every mountain and every trail
Never to approach emptiness and reproach without fail
I will then hoist it into the clouds high
For my heart tells me she is nigh
And sail against the perfect storm.
Never to rest, until it is her I will find.

Legend has it that her hair touches the grounds
Legend has it that she never frowns
Legend has it that she wears the crown
That she is neither white nor brown....but simply...beautiful

Silky strands that lay rest on her soft bottom
Soft succulent pink lips, I shall press mine against
Her beauty is of the unseen, her voice is of the unheard
Her skin glows as one of the absolute radiance
Her eyes radiant as the morning sun
Her smile, beams bright as the wishing star that I wished for
One, of such ethereal beauty
She is every man’s dream, and hopefully... my reality

Shall my soul, not find peace until her I find.
Shall my soul, not be complete until she is mine
I shall master the four corners of the earth
From dust to dawn I will search
From dust to dawn, I will quest
For your love, I thirst
Enter every crevice and under every boulder

I shall shower thee with love potions
Potions sweeter and abundant than honey
Love deeper than Romeo and Juliet
I shall cloth thee with jewelry richer than King Tutankhamen

I shall take away all of your pains,
Wash it out like empty drains
Into tiny bits like a drizzling summer rain
And we will grow together like ebbs on grains
Into those eyes, I will gawk and take away from shame,

Where is she? For, my bones grow into frailty by the minute
Where is she? For I lose grip of the sail by the minute
Where is she? For, old age is fast catching up with me by the minute

And gradually, I am losing faith in this phenomenon called love.
Whatever is thine shall be mine and whatever is mine shall be thine
But...should you see her, tell her I still seek her desperately... and my hair now grey

My Yesterdays

I consider every aspect in my aspirations and desires...
As I constantly think of what will transpire
And with all that I can honestly say
I constantly pray for tomorrow's yesterday.
Does that even make sense
To say such a thing.
To blindly soar in the clouds..without direction or sturdy wings..
I need to stay on this winding path...
that leads to an invisible stairway to tomorrow's yesterday.

Somehow "Someday" is not close enough..
Although tomorrow might obviously be quick enough...
What makes sense would be yesterday.
So where's the imaginary gateway that will allow us to fly away
Even drift slowly away to tomorrow's yesterday.

There's a doorway...
that when crossing through the threshold folds into a hallway
That will guide us to the present day.
So let's say a prayer together for
Tomorrow's yesterday...
Someway somehow...
In all our yesterdays
Those who doubt us will be left in the
Past with all those forgotten yesterdays we hoped for..
By then it would be just a day...In what month, or year..
Who really cares..
But as long as I can spend my yesterdays with you
All is understood.

I always hope for...

I always hope for...
a woman that´s so sure, tainted by society but somehow still pure
one who can physically endure my hectic life while managing hers while remaining emotionally secure
One with spiritual faith whose foundation is made of stone instead of being transparent like glass because through God all relationships last.
Someone with exquistite class
Who can see right through material things because they come an go in a flash

A woman that I can trust with all of the secrets of my past who knows where in her heart to keep it
One who doesn't take my kindness for weakness
One who I can get philosophical and deep with but also act a fool and share childish dreams with
One who everytime I kiss her, I kiss her as if it was our last breath...

I always hope for a woman who can listen to all of my issues
And at the same time I listen to hers too.
And as a unit we find the solutions of each individual situation that would help US get through.
Because my problem would be hers,
And hers mine
And no problem is too sublime that it cannot go unhandled

I always hope for
A woman who never judge me
Even for what it was
A woman who can find purities through any sliver of dust
One who can see through my imperfections and knows my heart is filled with nothing but good intentions
Who deals with me solely through love

I always hope for, her to walk through that door
And allow for me to sweep her off her feet
Because I know that my quest would be complete and that the search for love never ends in defeat
I know she's out there...I am just patiently waiting for that day...when we finally get the opportunity to meet

Untitled

Sometimes it seems as if you can't get a break
Everyday you awake you feel as if every decision you make was a mistake
As each rejection sends tremors through the figurative faults in your mind causing a mental earthquake
as you wonder what went wrong.
you try and remain strong even though your back is against the wall
and success seems long gone.
So you think, ponder, and wonder
As you say to yourself that this too shall pass.
When at last you seem you have the answer,
it whittles away like the sands of the hourglass
And As you think if you were wrong or if you rushed into things to fast
and how long this sinking feeling will last...
Another opportunity arises..

And this realm of opportunity continues with its surprises
in all shapes and sizes in its different disguises
in order to solve the enigma of lifes compromises
As you constantly remember the place and time when
You were happy and content with the life that you live
As you say to yourself, anything you would give,
To forgive time and relive those moments.
But you must realize the past permits the futures fate
So a good past must be a positive omen

A wise man once said a setback is a setup for a great comeback
So as you come back realize that you will never have more on you than you can burden
Everything happens for a reason, and everything in life is predetermined
and in time, the images at the end of the tunnel, will become more and more translucent
and this thing called success that your desperately yearning, will be set ablaze in your heart dimly burning
And you enhance your love for life....
And your enthralled lust for learning

My Pen Bleeds

My pen only bleeds what I see in real life
As I plant and plow the seeds of uniqueness into each bit of prose
in order to make it satiate the needs of my convictions
In addition to enabling others to heed my recognition as t
hey read in wonderment and suspicion about which alter ego I choose to portray
Day to day I make an attempt to please others with my passion, emotion and dismay.
You see, this pen conceals all the feelings that I possess...
The spilling of the ink symbolizing my distress and
The evenflow of my thoughts,
even flows even through the mental bloodclots
becoming more strengthened with every I dotted and t crossed.
As each idea that is tossed in my head eventually blemishes the tablet as I scribe
as if in a trance...

As my pen bleeds I constantly need a mental IV in order to remain balanced
as I continue to quench these poetic thoughts.
Aspirations become actual as if only for a moment as I place myself into the mindset of what minds desires or hope that would transpire as to inspire what happens next
And as my pen continues to bleed,'
only my pen can dissect the enigma that is my thoughts as to eloquently bisect the intersection of my minds wants and what it needs so I never know what to expect.
Poetry is....ME.... As my pen bleeds...what I see...in life

Psychological Escape

I look in the mirror and I notice that I am not the same person I once was,
But a mere facade of the past times
I seem to be running away from myself, while constantly changing places
My past life and the present one, all unwinnable races
My pain fills the empty spaces as I’m assailed by the horror of a thousand dead blank faces.
All my life I’ve had to shut the ears to my soul
In order to prevent this monster from establishing its roots within this topsoil and,
Infest and manifest itself in my world with the blackness of its oil
The pain is so intense it’s wrapped around me like a barbwire coil.
I do not only change places, I change races
My past life and the present life were all spent in never ending mazes
The twists and the turns and the dead endings, were meant to confuse the self I’m running away from and kill its nerve endings

So I throw myself down the stair case of my life and hope I’ll find the ending
But all I find is the painful landing
The bruises and the broken bones signify the pending ending.
I cannot allow my soul and spirit to converse
Lest the monster joins in and attempts to reverse my progress with its vile curse
My universe is black and lifeless, and for the moment that’s how I’ll have it, for it can only get worse
So I keep running from it instead of running in order to escape it...my problems

I am Not a writer but

I'm not a writer, I'm a language revolutionist.
If speaking the truth is wrong then call me an opportunist.
I assemble together characters letters and words.
Communicating with you through your relaxed spirit, pleasing ears and curious eyes, so call me an illusionist
I'm not a writer, I just have a lot of feelings pent up inside.
Of guilt, sorrow, anger and sometimes pride.
And as I go through my day abiding upon life,
I obtain satisfaction just by bleeding on a canvas.
So I let it be known, give me a notepad and pen
As I let my thoughts flow freely

I'm not a writer, I just have a gift that I try and share with world,
attempting to touch either many, or one.
If one person got something from my art, then my work is done.
I represent heartbreak and triumph, while conveying pain and strife.
So don't have me confused with someone that writes as an occupation.
Because writing is my life.

Is the Dream Still Deferred?

Langston Hughes pondered: what happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Some say that dreams are for nerds
But they are people whose dreams haven't been heard
Whose dreams have only been deterred by the pressures of pleasing others
Whose dreams haven't been seen which allowed them to let it fester like a sore
But, if I want to dream, then let me set a adrift in my dream
Let me be

I am trying to even the score
Do something with myself and try to form a rapport with some of those who come after me and even before
As I try and utilize my versatility that my relatives have instilled upon me
I drift off to my dreams to see my grandfather's silhouette in the forefront
It hasnt even been a year since
My grandfather passed and for a while I was depressed
Because I have been blessed to obtain his gift of putting words together in such a way that it can cause harmony in a world filled of discords
So when he left....I lost it..
But I had to bounce back and release the pressure
I grabbed my poetry book off the dresser and began scribing my thoughts because I didn't want to see my aspiration fester
If the world doesn't take my gift for what it is I will go down as a fighting man, picking myself up by the bootstraps refusing to surrender

Dr. King once said a mind is a terrible thing to waste
Like this dream it's mine and I refuse to let his words become the dichotomy of my being
Dr. King helped catalyze a movement when some racists from the south tried to paralyze it
Jesse said "I want freedom. Please don't stop me. I may be young, but I am somebody. I
I may be young but i'm in it for the struggle, the hunger, the people
We're eradicating hunger, and failure, and evil
No there's no disguising what my eyes have seen
I've seen fiends lose weight and southern racists lose hate
Nothing good ever happens when we lose faith

Staring through my brown eyes
One can see that at the pinnacle of my dream, success is the prize
However we are in a society in which success is JUST characterized by how fat your wallet is, and NOT the steps you took to get there
This money and this fame is abducting our soul
Cars, Clothes, and Women are now the main goal, as their true dreams now sag like a heavy load
We still got our eyes on the gold, but it's so hard to keep our lives in control because we swapped our whips and chains....for whips...and chains, in order to retain some self efficacy.
Avarice thoughts often come to mind, but I don't want to resort to conforming like everyone else just to get ahead
Mark what I said, I seen both sides, the other side is just as bad
If I told you I was a saint, then I would be dreaming
But realize that all that is glittery isn't gold just because it's gleaming

Some may hate at the way I am determining my fate, but why?
The people who are making this world worse do not take a day off, why should I?
So I remain kind, even though this dog-eat-dog world continues to be heartless
Because one small lamp can still illuminate worlds of darkness

Using God as an excuse

So, When did God become an excuse for doing what you want? Anyone who's worked in ministry or pays attention to news about people and religion know what I mean by this statement. It seems a lot in the past few years that people in religious leadership or people in general like to use God as an excuse to do whatever they want. They say things like "We're going to do this b/c we prayed about it," or something like " This s what God wants." These statements have been used to rationalize some of the most horrible things in history. I saw a news article recently talking about a so called "pastor" who thought it was ok for a father to marry his adolescent daughter because it was part of their religion. Holy Crap, what's up with that? How can God be used to say this is ok? Because God's become the excuse. Recently I was told by a "friend" that God told her that we shouldn't contact each other....did God really tell you that, or is that what YOU want, but you don't want to say that is what you want and you use God as a scapegoat?

How can we stop this flagrant misuse of a Holy God? It's called accountability. This kind of thing occurs in places where we give one person way to much authority. When did God ever put a single person up on a pedestal? He didn't! The only person He ever gave major authority was Himself in human form, known as Jesus Christ. If the leadership was accountable to people who walk with God daily, then less little problems like this will arise. Where people stop, think, and talk, ideas outside that of God's word start to become evident.

PLEASE for the love of God, stop using God as an excuse. Why do we feel the need to say that God has said something that you know He didn't? I think it's because no one can argue. The people that say these things know that God isn't going to just come down and confront you in public over the stupid thing you just said that He said. It's only an amount of time before you'll have to answer for what you've said. In this life or the next you'll answer for it.

Start actually praying, looking for God's leading, and do that. Regardless of what God's leading is, do that! You've got to be ready to do thing you don't want to if you're going to do God's will. It's not always the easy thing, but it's always the right thing. The right thing also isn't always what we want. Remember that the next time you're going to want to do something just because it's convenient or want to get rid of someone because you're jealous. Remember that it may not be what God wants just because you want it. I am obedient towards my God, but I can separate when I make my own decisions

What God wants is perfect. Why do we think that just because we want it that God will in turn want it as well? How selfish our sin must be.

I Just Wanna Be.....Successful?

It's strange how all the emotions of life compile on us at the same time
So when gametime approaches we feel as if the weight of the whole world is bearing down upon us,
like being without an umbrella in the rain time
It's hard to be humbling during these troubling times,
To show humility while lacking faith in humanity,
Pressured to live up to a set of standards,
That was created long before you existed, but yet still has its fallacies
However if you do not comply to them, you will seem of insanity
Was this to promote success,
Or to hint the possibity of forward progress, within this slow process
Given the right environment, Social standing, And objective opportunities
In the early twentieth century
It was said if we educated society as a whole,
Crime would cease to exist,
Cleary this is and was not the case, thus creating more subtle remiss
Because everyone is different on a individual basis,
So choose the individual that you want to be
And not want people expect you to be because when you in the mirror, you wont like what you see
And remember Rome wasnt built in a day, it is a slow process
When a man feels throbbing within him the power to do what he undertakes as well as it can possibly be done, this is happiness....... this...is success

Media Genocide

Gunshots fly,
And...as we run and dodge from the disparity as we face reality of this hood tragedy...
She gets hit
And she drops to the ground, just like the credibility of the hood
People see things in music videos and think that to like that they should
So...whos to blame....blame the industry

Yea, the music that we listen to,
contains simple, yet complex messages
that becomes etched in our heads subliminally at youth
and when we go to bed, that is all that we think about

So this "industry", this multi billion dollar industry,
contains so much clout and credibility that we begin to test its abilities
First by degrading women into shallow transgressions, thinking every encounter is a sex session,
all because they see a woman being trashed by a rapper because that his "role model"
So now, chivalry is dead because being an asshole is the new "gentleman"
....But I digress

So now, this young woman, honor student, sister, daughter, and aunt
is now on the pavement writhing in pain with a bullet in her lung
all because a bunch of people argued over something pointless
And they pointed this gun amongst one another
It seems as we try to bring each other up,
But a few lead the crowd in bringing down others
So who's to blame....blame the industry

This industry, captures artists with a dream, and
molds it into their own beliefs because underneath all they care about....is the almighty dollar
So women, cars, and guns become the trending topic
While positivity becomes microscopic....because its not cool
As artists play as puppets to the masters game while they
think that they are closer to fame
But as our youth fight, shoot each other and are maimed
We are the ones to blame....but we dont notice it...
Because the money and the music is good.

The industry doesnt care about your talent,
but about who an play the game,
whos dying to get in, just to find out that they dont fit in
and those with a strong mind are the ones with the fame.
Selling their souls in order to survive
But they dont give a damn about you
But in all reality, they wont make a DIME without you

Blame the industry, for using artists as a pawn to program people as a tool to spread hate
using the universal language that is music
And we are so naive to following the beat and not the lyrics that we are unable to see through it.
So we follow and acknowledge it religiously, causing it to be a way of life as if we are born to do it.
So we dress like this and talk like that , as a facade of what the artists reflect
However we dont realize that what we do creates a small microcosm that gets stronger than what we expect

So yea...blame the industry
Because they are the ones who are at the forefront of this puppet show
And the sad reality is that you feel as if you wont start making a stand and actually caring,
until the person that is lying in the street...is someone that you know.

Round 2

So months turn to years, and the attraction I have for you has grown stronger, to the point where it starts to become lust no longer,

So now I want to love you, not only as a partner but as a couple in too deep

And as the feeling of lust evaporates the wonderment if love begins to seep

I want to love you in a special way like glass, strong but crystal clear.

As I hold you near I whisper in your ear things that would alleviate our worst fears.
I want to make love to your every intricacy by first squeezing and sucking your breasts to quench my thirst.
Then gently at first blowing love through your lips and making love to your lungs,

As I grab your hips and start to use my tongue

My heart squeezes yours and mines together until your mind blows,
And you can't think.

I want to bite your neck, sending a sexual sensation through your nervous impulses and into your heart,
Pumping love in and out through your veins until it reaches your feet,
And your toes curl.

I want to stroke you gently and softly to caress not only your being,
But to feel the warmth of your flesh.
Your body next to mine, holding and embracing with the connection of a lock and key of life and love so you can't let go or go to the next one.

Let me love you hard so I can drill through your hurts and your pains,

Paving and laying bricks to guard your heart from your trials and tribulations.

Building a dam so that when your flesh feels weak your spirit won't break from the wear and tear of the enigma that is called life

Let me love you over and over again as though it were a climactic story that never ends.

If you were my book the letters of your words would be carved in my heart as though it were a novel felt, but never read.

This is the way to love, you have to love easy but feel hard.

You have to pay the price of sacrifice in order to grow a love, which is deeply fulfilling.

Showing respect to every fiber of her being

That is the best way to love and to make love by not just having sex, but to connect.

Lust vs. Love

Although in the same house each shall have a room, as they are distinct
Love is blind, while lust has eyes wide open so that we can play its games
As love is unpredictable as a new day, lust is the night at the bar with insane thoughts of "new beginnings" while the end point remains the same

As love speaks the truth, lust can just lay silent mystified others
Love need not be beautiful but lust makes it a prerequisite
Love may abstain, but lust cannot
By its nature it thrives in banquet
While love satifys you so much that you yearn for more, lust is the craving for salt of a man who is dying of thirst, it makes it worse
Because while the desire of love is to give, the desire of lust is to get.

Love is pure but lust wrestles for what it desires
Love is a process and lust just happens to transpire
Love is looking past the fallacies and impurities because you know that they complete you
Lust is hiding behind a false transparency so that you can please someone, while at the same time not loving yourself
Love is something divine that
falls from the heaven to earth
It expects nothing for it but
It renders everything to others including itself
Love never ends in lust but
it grows as affection and respect
Lust is in the mind. It expects to exploit others to satiate it's needs
Matured love becomes filled grace
lust may not be so, because of its limited time and space
Immature lust spoils the character and life when it develops as aggressive
Love never feeds the violence but
Lust grows and replenishes urging to stay
True love never dies for it is lust that goes astray.
Love bonds for a lifetime but lust always pushes away.
Love requires work, while lust desires play
And while love predicts the future, lust can only predict today

So you say, "I let guys get close, then push them away"....does that mean you're falling in love, and scared of what could be...or engaged in lust, and worried about what won't be?

Random Thoughts

What am I looking for?....Hmm question...

I'm looking for a God fearing woman...so that growth is constant
..But in retrospect I'm looking for a girlfriend.

I'm looking for a partner. Someone I can share with, not someone I can play with, because I put my childish things away. Life's like that sometimes, I guess.

I'm looking for someone who I can talk to, and emote with. Someone whom I can be real and not sugarcoat with Someone I feel a connection with. Someone I feel an equality with but not possessing frivolity so....Thats what I'm looking for.

I want someone I can share my life with, such as it is, and someone who will share their life with me. Not life as in marriage but as in the aspects of today.
I want what my parents seem to have. They don't agree on some things, but agree on other things, but they can always talk about all things. Well, OK, that's a little more than what my parents have, but who's to say that I shouldn't want more than they've had?

I'm looking for someone who shares interests with me. Who will go to the grocery store and be a little bit silly occasionally. Who isn't afraid of a little bit of adventure while possessing a bit of docility?

I don't need much, I'm not really that kind of guy, but every once in a while, I just want to breathe. I like someone I can go to an action movie with, and afterward, talk about just how silly it was that the main character didn't die, or even the parts that would never happen. Someone I can go to a movie with, and, when the sappy parts come on, all I have to do is glance over, and know what they're thinking, and maybe get a kiss out of it.

Someone I can go for a walk with, but not feel pressured into it, just have it be a mutual part of the relationship. Someone I can share a good book with. Someone whom I can both share an intellectual conversation and turn into a vegetable in front of the TV with. I'm looking for someone who's not afraid of change, but relies on stability. Someone who has the ability to love and be loved, and willing to let that be the point of the relationship that possesses stability. Someone I can depend on, but someone who can depend on me at the same time.

I'm looking for someone I can be intimate with, someone I can be connected to. Someone who shares my ideals, who respects who I am, and is occasionally willing to laugh in bed.

I'm looking for someone special, someone mature enough to recognize my needs and express theirs, but free enough to explore virgin territory. I'm looking for someone who is sometimes a sap, sometimes a cynic, and sometimes a philosopher......hmm... I think I'm looking for too much.

Dedicated to my little Brother Anthony

Under grinded flakes of clouds
gathering echoes of children
who sprinkle laughter to ears
he sits
Quietly on hooves of steel
bond by flaps of leather
and Reeboks
Toes tight, tense to
the usual sights and sounds
of rigorous running
An invasion of intoxicating
excitement bellows beckoning
like balloons ready to burst
He awaits stout in
strapped stagnancy to
the leather plated backrest
for a push to join in the joyous
occasion of recess
Twines of his hair
tangle in the subliminal breeze
The hairless girl
cornered with him
weaves her cancered
fingers regrouping
his thick locks
Each takes the gift
of normalcy
to the future
for one day it will
be theirs
Hands gripped they
belong,
if only to each other
Within these tedious seasons
they wait for a cloudless sun
together in the magic of hope

Untitled

Another moon promised
as she dangles her foot
over my denim pants
letting her stiletto slip
casually from her heel

Stars foiled the sky
as we spoke verses and bridges of,
hymns of love
that refrained ever after
my words coiled
as if a mirage making magic

I flicked my cigarette
to the silver coated pavement
and it sizzled from the heat
here I vowed before the cosmic powers
that we would never be parted

The moon took us on a ride
as we floated on loves magic carpet
But again the stars in our eyes
were brighter than those in the sky

As always for us, the moon chipped away
to a sliver
the grey was here
the spiraled staircase collapsed
and I became the rain and snow
as her colored lashes
smeared the sheet
and the seams split from the pulling
The night's cruel words echoed like thunder
resounding in my ears
shading the moon in a halo of hashish delusion
as the ring punctuated the storm

I died that night to be born again
as the prism of light
around the moon finally passed
and the ice crystals departed
so as a new moon could come
pure and clean without storms

However just thinking about it brings back Invalid images, like wings on a fairy
flutter endlessly through the sky
The moon just a crevice in the gray
echoes your name and I respond
Saturated with wine
you float before my eyes
Tears form from the strain
for you are gone and I am alone

What task takes you to another place
the restlessness, the silence of me
Did I linger too long and become passive
I thought you would remain
through all the shapes of the moon

The liquor takes me back
and I try to rethink
Did I toil too much, and listen too little
or was I lost in the spell of life
Unable to give you the thing you wanted

Objectification

Freud said it best
and all of us believe it
that you sistas
envy us brothers,
and it was all
because of our penis

this penis
thinking on its own
often destroying homes
infused with testosterone
running like a mad man
even destroying his own

this penis
big, black, or my case honey brown penis
brings domination to black homes while
beating wives into submission
and children, love is missing
‘cause “i’m the man of this house
and i’ll swing a big stick to prove it.”
black eyes blue
and rib’s almost broke as
life seeps away
with black hands
on black throats.

that penis
engages in power struggles
head to head
in corporate boardrooms
resulting in modern day
Watergates, Enron, and MicroSoft gloom
and poor men
minimum wage-hued
are left in unemployment lines
as swinging sticks
smoke cigars
in poker played
back rooms.

that penis
truly the heart’s cock-block
keeping you lover for loving- emotionally
‘cause physicality has the heart
she wants feel love but
he hits and quits – lust
and she’s left to feel empty while
he’s satisfied with heartless thrusts

full of perversion
and stolen lives lived
wives beaten into submission
innocent, anal ripped deals
So…is this penis
testosterone filled
really the cause for envy?

Her Eyes Seduced Me

We lock eyes….and she seduces me

As I look into her eyes
all that seems important is trivial now.

there is no deadline to meet, no meeting to run to, no project to think of.

Because Her eyes are where the skies meet the sea
The sudden subtle change from the lighter
Shade that, though bent, can go on forever
To the partition of inflected darkness
Hiding secrets the world wouldn’t care about anyway
But I do…

Then there are the specks of gold
The sun reaching down to graze the surface with unbelievable tenderness
Seeming to drive deep, still seeming to float
On the Surface, yet welling up from within
Some silhouette of her amazing light
And I’m blinded…

Because she seduced me….with just her eyes

Satiation

We all see homeless people and bums out on the street. Although we feel for them or sometimes wince at their stench or even talk about them, have you ever had the chance to think about how they got there....

Can I have some more?
Can you spare a dime?
Yeah you can walk past me, and its fine
But have you ever took the time, to look past the grime
To question the reason why I am homeless?
The reasons why my satiation has yet to be filled
And why I still have the urge to beg you?

Yes, I’m human just like you,
And although the clothes and stench may have you fooled
The truth is that I was ONCE in your shoes
But do you have any idea of how it feels to have everything taken away from you?
Blessed to have a family and a job,
To come home to a home cooked meal and alleviate my child’s sobs…
To hear the stories of my family’s day,
The 100 on the spelling test and the game winning catch at the little league game
The raise received at work, and the cries of my daughter who can’t find a date yet for the prom
Thought life couldn’t get any better
Until that fateful day when it happened to me
On March 28th 1993
My family was in the wrong place at the wrong time
Succumbed to wounds of a collision
And no they weren’t under my provision
Because it was under my suspicion
That once 6pm Friday hit….something was wrong
I found out my family was gone………and I lost it

I LOST IT ALL!!!!
My family, my life…..my mind…..everything
After my release from the asylum, my lease was up, my job was too….and my belongings belonged to someone else….
So I began bathing in a nearby pond,
Eating food at places that I wasn’t too fond
And trying to receive clothes from nearby charity bonds
And seeing people slowly abscond
Just to remain afloat
But see, when you have nothing in your possession
And no support to lean on,
The possibilities of a second chance is remote
So, Mr. Gates, can YOU spare a dime, although you have trillions
And can You Mr. Athlete help out a fan, although you have millions……I THOUGHT SO
Ostracized by society because I didn’t meet the societal norm
And I truly have seen how my education didn’t mean SHIT…if you can’t walk in an interview without a pressed suit.
I really thought things would get better
Save for my only possessions…..$10.00, a Metrocard, a pair of jeans and this blue sweater

So….once again…have you thought about how I’m feeling right now
How I am surviving, how I maintain, how I’m just getting by
This dollar has meant more to me than ever before
And IM TIRED of being turned around by closed doors
Running from place to place for satiation in the winter
If you were me, you would never take anything for granted
Because although the life that you live may be enchanted
Even Cinderella’s coach turned back into a pumpkin
No I’m not like this because I’m lazy,
Nor do I say all of this because I’m crazy
But because my future seems hazy….
In these streets, taking it day by day.
No one to help me and falling asleep to the rattling sounds of
The change that is in my cup
But…..until that times comes,
Where God can see my full potential, and I can live just fine….

Can I get some more?......Can you spare a dime?