Sunday best

Procrastination
often, to the brink
slipping, I think &
drowning in an
abyss of PANIC!
Any attempt to
mindfully dismiss
all angst or bliss,
to not think
to not rethink
to not over think
knowing full well
even the smallest
ort or iota will retie
the knot of anxiousness.
However,
at some moment
before the future
putting off tasks
is often easier
than yesterday’s
agenda but still I
persist with this joyless
entanglement.
I wish I knew why. . .

I’ll figure it out
tomorrow.

Humming birds flitter
desolate garden spaces
hovering
hungry
barren, dull places

Grand orchestra assembled
vacant music hall
inspiration
unheard
muted chords fall

Evening stars dimmed
forming dark cloud
fading
smothered
not shimmering proud

Mournful child cries
tragic maternal death
grieving
struggling
never catching breath

I only see bleached bones ahead
For the entire human race;
All freshly radioactive dead
On cruise control through outer space.
They had no reason to stay alive
With God so eagerly calling them home
Where seventy seven virgins thrive
Like angels in an aerodrome!
Why keep the carcass in one piece
When afterlives are fucking great
And all the death squad hate police
We'll thank for sealing mortal fate
When all we did was waste our time
Fretting about human rights abuse
As heaven's the catch-all paradigm
For any lame immoral excuse,
Which your secular neighbor never used...
Being existentially unexcused.

The water is swallowing me up whole
And I am left without enough oxygen to
Breathe. I fight to keep my control,

But I want to fade away and turn blue
Because I am tired of being everyone
Else’s anchor. I am done being the glue

To hold everything together. Take the gun
And shoot me in the heart because I would
Rather die than live in misery. Take the sun

Away because I want to sink to where I should
Be, at the bottom surrounded by complete
Darkness and blackness. I am just driftwood

And utterly useless. I am not tidy or neat.
I would rather be messy and bloody so that
I can be ignored or passed by on the street

Without a second glance. I could be flat
Like a cardboard box and you would still never
Look my way. Hit me right in the gut

And it is guaranteed to hurt. It is better to sever
This while we still can rather than regretting
It all in the end. I would never have to endeavor

Or burden anybody again. You will be forgetting
Me soon enough just like everybody else has. So
While you are the one who is jetting

Off somewhere else and new, I want you to show
Me that I am right by leaving me here to wilt away
Just like everything else. I want to feel every low.

Inside    
a lamp is lit
it’s night  
but the heavens got an idea  
   
out there lies a mad galaxy  
the air curves and changes shape    
in silence  
people swarm the streets outside my window  
everyone with their head in the clouds  
   
like out of a dream    
I step out of bed and write a poem    
that starts with: It’s Saturday, it’s February,  
and I don't want to die
 
Inside
a lamp is lit
it's night
but the heavens got an idea

I've always had a fear of fire,
the way it sets flame to whatever it touches,
it's ability to turn anything to ash,
the thought of it terrified me.
at least it did.

my perspective of fire changed when I met you,
you were an open flame,
one that I fell in love with,
your flame was bigger than me,
it controlled me.
the heat that radiated off it was invisible,
I chose for it to be that way.

I gave you room to grow,.
I provided you with oxygen,
while you spent your time setting fire to whatever laid between us.
each boundary turned to a pile of ash,
leaving me to make new ones,
ones that complied to you.
at least until you burned them again.
eventually I stopped making them,
I gave you more things to burn,
I ran into your flame,
no air for me to breathe
only smoke.

outsiders tried to put out your flame
and instead you set them on fire,
driving them so far away from me,
until I have no one left.
no one but you.

you built me a new house,
a house of flames,
no doors or windows.
I was yours,
and I couldn't change that.
why would I?
I found comfort in your fire,
the way it burned each time I touched it,
I fell in love with the scars it left behind.

I used to be scared of fire,
but now I welcome it,
never putting a stop to it.

I leave everyone worried,
they beg me to put out the flame,
but this flame is special,
it's addicting.
however, sometimes I'll find myself asking
what's outside this house fire?
and is it worth finding out?
but i guess ill never know

In college, I had a
philosophy professor
enamored with string theory;
I took him three times

because he was nuts

And through him,
I developed a
crush
on Dr. Michio Kaku,
the badass theoretical physicist
as I watched, over and over and over
his series on The Multiverse.

Simply put: every possibility, is.
There is an infinite number of
right nows, and therefore
...
everything
...
is.
...

I love that concept.
It balances shit, you know?

Because there's a universe
in which I'm a Tyrannosaurus Rex
named Tim,
eating suburban douchebags in Astoria.

There's a universe in which
peanuts are banned from polite society
and one where I'm the grand potentate of
Bettyville
and everyone who was ever
a bitch to me
has to rub my feet and
tell me I'm pretty.

And there's one out there,
somewhere,
a million-million-million dimensions away
(but close enough to feel)

in which
you and I have an unstolen moment
in grassy place
in the middle of a sunbeam
shoulder to shoulder maybe,
stealing kisses
and grinning stupidly at each other,
our lips dripping platitudes
that are poison in this world

a universe
in which I can love you
without penalty,
without freaking you the fuck out,
without forcing you to feel like
you have to jump up
try and protect me
from myself,


in which I don't wish,
some days
I never hit reply

because the penalties,
especially the internal ones,
are real assholes some days

There's a universe like that,
maybe,
where we can
belong to one another
for a moment

I think about that place
on cool fall mornings
until the coffee grows cold in my hands.

There's a universe like that
somewhere

but it's not here

This place has  
a little less sunlight
a little more darkness

and that's fine by me
really

because too much time in the
sun can cause burns
and you already burn
in me
so damn hot
so damn hot
that the chick in the other
dimension
stares slack jawed in envy
on a cool fall morning
her coffee growing cold
as she imagines a universe
in which the ideal image of
we

is us.

There's a place like that
(maybe)
out there
somewhere

and I wouldn't trade a moment
in our beautiful darkness
for a moment in its light

here i stand    
in front of thee,
   
on a world stage    
for all to see,  
   
time for some words  
beautiful and humanly,    
   
i denounce all killing,    
and weaponry,    
   
i propose a    
brand new loveosophy,  
   
please raise your glass,    
and vow with me,  
   
to share with those,  
who live less fortunately,  
   
to save the orphans,  
care for the elderly,  
   
to cherish the planet,  
the air, land and seas,  
   
lay down your hate,  
and be anger free,  
   
hellos to a stranger,    
will concrete our decree,  
   
let’s start a real effort  
for the whole world to be..  
   
a planet of love and peace,    
in total harmony.

This is a Moroccan beat which I personally love. Please listen while reading, I really would appreciate it, thank you 😊              
             
Al Marconi :              
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIog_7ME_Lw              
             
Cast upon him a burden              
a wicked curse              
born under the wrong agenda              
what could be worse?              
             
Life's value lost and hollow          
burned out           
can anybody hear you?              
There's no way out!              
             
Trapped in a hell from which              
there is no escape         
for being born on the wrong              
side of the moon              
life is cruel, look at his face              
             
             
His beauty untouched              
eyes having seen too much              
out of tune out of touch…             
             
I can't even begin to imagine              
the human suffering where you are              
 
no laughter only sorrow             
no hugs or good night kisses              
no hope for tomorrow…              
             
Does anybody know what happened              
to the flowers where you are—              
or the will to live, not just survive             
live, die, eat, sex and cry              
             
He'll be leaving soon              
wearing his pride on his chest              
singing his favorite tune              
dressed in his Sunday best!              
             
Yes, he'll be humming his favorite song              
long after he's gone              
knowing his dream is now reality,              
left behind a life of psychosis banality...

Waking on the type of morning that fought the afternoon and lost.
Laying eyes stare at the ceiling it even noticed a hanging smile.
Any good conversation can have this effect.
Good communication before bed keeps a man alive inside.

Lightly walked down wooden steps to reach the outside.
Relaxing in motion the vehicle had to be made right.
Slow motion now looking back at the moment.
Active meditation at it's very beginning.
Nobody awake yet just an audience of blank white windows staring.
Time flew by it was time to take to the road.
That summer afternoon was now engulfed by the night sky and the hour of 7:00pm.
City street lights shined in.
Warm sensations from the hot day made the lights heat a little.
Windows were rolled down to stop the oncoming sweat.
People coming and going could here the cars music blaring.(Part 2 coming soon)

Poem

Fly
You who lies but tries to stand

You poor bastard
You smoke for looks

Fly
With crooked legs
Soulfighters bite rocks
And gather memories in their pockets

You sang your songs with closed eyes
You never washed away the sun
And you scared me
When you held your breath
You were a summer tale
You were aged fingers on an accordion
You were jewelry of aged steel
And you drank too much

To the Erotic Queen
you write poetry
thst shows us
lust in our hearts
Because we need our
Freaky side to come out
Playing the bongos naked
Is our way to show
that lust is always
inside our hearts
Waiting for the freaky fun
to come out and play

To all the ladies/women
out there roar loudly
let it be heard
fight the system to
create a world of
peace and equality
help everyone including
the men who don't
understand why you
are fighting for your
equal rights to which
I will help always help you
by treating you the
ladies/women by showing
Kindness and Respect
and supporting your
Decisions