Poems I wrote at 17, when I came back from Kenya
The internal knowledge possessed can create an internal demon, feasting on the back fat of success and the future of perspired goals or dreams. If this demon is not silenced, devastation occurs. Internal knowing without the passing of words from one heart to another, or one heart to the air can deteriorate the already sickly heart. It is essential for one to share emotion with others, and without this connection between mind and body to another mind and body, network breaks and bruises the heart.
Responsibility, of one person to the next
To maintain a culture and thrive in a prosperity
Of happiness
Breathing oxygen clean into the lungs pivots the heart around truth
Acknowledgement of knowledge
Environmental sustainability cannot thrive
The human society does not thrive
They coincide
Barricade the box of crayons that the children so desperately need
To map out the future of home held tattooed breathing device
Crammed down throat until reflex of gag cannot present itself to choke.
Responsibility of one person to the next is to hold down a fort of wretched salvation
Taking tea in real world America
Has become fallacy
the slab of confession sticks to my teeth at night as I drown my minds eye in desperate waves of soliciting solitude
Tell me please as the children sip their tea how you plan to change the world.
Poverties bed protects them at night
As they chase books through streams of laced general regard
Intelligence is held for class not the streets
Culture has long been lost, or not worth having
Unless it is western,
Oil and water make gods paddle to shore
Of blessings secured for one nation
Against another
Bleeding hearts are only in the eyes of the television set
Not worth seeing worrying because it cannot be seen down the street
Or what about the children next door?
No food in the pantry or fibers of green to purchase it with
Or in the next city over, female after child, male after adult
Drafted into their own civil wars
Small town has no worries, but that of the meth labs in garages of day cares
Teen pregnancies and immigrant crisis jobs taken and lost
Confusion of cause? This nation is past racism, right?
Opportunity for all, but come with privilege of birthing right.
So this world that you wish to change, needs to be erased.
Equality shall not exist when class segregates
Poverty shall rise when the working class dwindles to less than the amount of a cup of your finest coffee
Representatives should represent a class of third, when their free education was amounted by their father’s inheritance.
Survival of the fittest, or just in best shape
With the finest cars and largest blinders
I do not want to change this world for the children.
I need to change it.
But for now I shall just hold them deep in my pocket, removing them from the nudity of observation and shielding the light of spiritual penetration
Feed them more tea, read them a story, for now we shall wait until those with the largest sums on their computer screens who has the most room in their minds and depth in their hearts to allow the world to finally spin around in the colors of compassion.
I am the truth, and there is no salvation
Time no longer travels, it sits in barricades of weakened days and warped minds
The people cry, yet know not why they weep, it is for the dead who have passed in their sleep.
Rest comes easy for the simple some who see.
Those who have taken their glasses off and used them for drinking.
Tick tock
Time exists not but in the midst of the hour that rotates and swivels through the heart beat
Every beat count, and yet it can not release the pent up energy that holds it weak
Week.
By week by week.
We sleep in a pit hole of disparity. Easily chastising those who refuse to lie.
awake at night.
Yet are the ones whom are aware of the condition called exhaustion.
Never giving in to the life. Life that is not or shall never be lived.
Exist. On paper- in the crevasse
Of no lover’s mind.
It has been lost.
This is life.
No tomorrow or yesterday shall escape the commemorative phase of this imagination. Walking talking breathing. Now. This is life. No place no time other than the one in which I can now see yet will not taste in a moment or so. For I have cherished none but the fibers woven into my clothes and the fluorescent wave beaming unto my blinking water holes.
Hollow no longer.
I know all, for I know longer posses question to attempt. Fruitless thoughts on meaning prove to myself that the soul has escaped and filled itself with no lack of wonder for the world, but for the maker.
He who thrives at all places at all times. Making the presence unreal.There is no reality.
I know all- for I have no wonder to withhold and this arrogance of self reliance wash over the grounds of empty space in my heart bekoning calls of content put my soulless disposition at ease
I am the seeker of dreams
with a broken compass
on a journey of discovery through the eyes of a virgin
tainted and hollow
only the unsatisfied salvation thrives within my dull beating breast
close my eyes to see the waves that wash over the shores
moisten my lips to taste no salt
urgent desire to fulfill
knowing there is more to know than what lies within the folds of my mind.
Breathing in- without exhaling
a gut full of anxiety the I cannot spit out
a globe pasted to the wall, shoes that do not fit and never will
the key to the cage around my neck
empty pages of books all have read
I am not really sure where to go from here.
Lost without knowing how to ask for help.
Lonely. Hollow. Sounds of growing grass from my window seal.
It has not rained in months.
Crops for satisfaction of only the eyes
left unpleasant and ready to die
rocks in the street taken out of the river
thrown through windows
a liberation cry.
Weeping tears that already fell
But still, I remain to be, the seeker of dreams
