I look at the sunset and do not see beauty;
it is simply the way it is intended to be

what I see
is a glimpse of the unfathomable;
a look into the infinite

I never have wanted to believe that
we are god’s greatest creation;
the patience of a tree, alone,
is beyond our capability

I know what is
and what could still be

I do believe our intelligence
has not even been realized,
let alone developed enough,
to understand the realm of intelligence of
the creator of all

I see how great we are within a world so small,
but we are only a rumor
in a universe that is seemingly endless

af

(written in small notebook)

one more…one more
cannot get enough
axe drives through my spine
forces me to hunch over
blood on the page

it is all too dramatic

then the smells, scents odors
three young girls fade in
pass
three young girls fade out
mindless to their invisibility

one more…one more
wanting
wanting

one more…one more

anything

what have you to offer;
hit drink shot fuck food pill true love?

one more…
one more is all I want

af

(written in little notebook…somewhere)

It is an excruciating burden

to absorb the heartache, the pain

of all those massacred;

for me to sit here in the luxury I live in

no matter how humble

or insignificant

I make myself

…the pain of history still weighs profoundly on my soul

For five hundred years

over one billion mothers and sons

have died for the comfort I now have

and my compassion feels responsible,

causing a halt to life

to reflect and cry silently

wondering if there is any reparation possible

paid from my own life

to help this horrible history I was raised from

And as I reflect

what always seems to hurt more

is the ignorance

the other people

who

benefit from history’s genocides

complain incessantly of the modern world pains

all to brand weak my anguish

of understanding too much

that we deserve nothing

af

(written with pen on paper)

Criticism is commonplace for what we do

although we cannot be whipped into place

as we scare everyone with a will of solitude and independence

courting young women

traveling to deserts and rainforests

war zones and peace communes

“What do you do?”

“I am a poet.”

“So, you are a freeloader?”

That is the cue

to raise the voice of our

of my

self-confident proclamation of artistic dogma

I Am A Poet

(scoff scoff snicker snicker)

I AM A POET

The silence used to be so awkward

until I would begin filling it with

half-laughed apologies

Now

there is only the decree

then the stare-back

my conviction  burrowing under and uprooting

the scrutiny from their false confidence

We are not sensitive

because we stand up for passion

We are while You dream

Wound us all you want

we are immortal

af

(written with pen on paper)

What a curse

the ability to be so aware of all outcomes

to lie with head

splitting

open

pounding pain draining inspiration

then I turn around

once fucking again

a dream of and from the past

something so illogical

a ponderance so inconceivable

And again

and again

paths do not continue to cross in this short life

for no reason

but

adults do not live on the impulse

of a child

rules must be necessary

because

in our mind

all that could be conceived

of what life could be

has never broken out of the boundaries of

what is

and is not

possible

will these two adults walk away from life

as the Buddha did

to simply

try

to jump into another dimension

rather than live with guilt

live knowing that the finite time here

is only here

to be explored?

The one who jumps

will be the flint

patience achieves all goals

It’s ok to start over

af

(written on computer)

the curve of a stranger’s body

glancing over the soft skin

spending hours

raking my fingers across, indulging;

lips upon salted skin calming the shivers

as tingles raise bumps all over her body;

pulling her hair back, firm grasp

deep into each others eyes between nibbles

scents of perfumes and sweat

making my desire want

to take, to grab, to seduce

all to make her writhe in metaphorical orgasms

while exploding, literally, in real ones

we are born with the task of satisfying the women

because they deserve to be satisfied;

too few understand why women are perfect

af

(written on computer and pen/paper)

It is something wonderful

to be utterly in love with and loathe a woman all at the same time;

It is a challenge to my beliefs

one I am grateful for, always

I firmly believe in balance

a positive cannot exist without a negative

acceptance without judgment

love without hate;

No relationship can work without this balance

a lover’s purpose is to challenge the deepest core of existence

It gets exhausting dating to fill a dream

when we live, still, within the rules of this universe;

Even more disappointing when someone finally comes along

who sparks that instinct

preaches the same purpose

but refuses to accept the challenge for themselves

af

(written with pen on paper)