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18th & West Alabama





Her fingers are nimble
and her eyes, deep and soulful
like the california sunset -- Amber Brown
Her beautiful figure could fool a guy
or two, or three or five
but underneath her shimmering
cover-girl lips and charcoaled framed amber eyes
lies the scar tissue

she wears her heart on her sleeve,
"You're only young once..." she thinks
but under it all, she knows this man, or any other
can't fill the lack of friendship; of love
of seeing beyond that
figure-eight body;
or amber eyes, or covergirl lips
but the spirit of gravity
cannot choke this flower...
from dreaming:
of a quaint home
where she can raise her new born baby girl
or a man to sweep her off her feet
care for her, just like daddy used to...
before the accident.

"One more night" she thinks...
for the thousanth
And oneth time,
as she gets in the car
where a horny businessman thinks:
"tonight's going to be a night to remember"

Fuck you, Cupid




You are the god of love,

but the assasin of friendship

I hate your guts, you fucker

but I like your style


I was only thirteen
thir-teen
when I met that

brown-eyed mess

that beautiful goddess

or infamous tramp

depending on who you ask

or rather, when you ask it


It scares me though, it does

that she could be both a creator,

my brown eyed goddess;

and a destroyer,

that, infamous bitch;

in the eyes of the same lover

although, a lover

no more

fuck you cupid,
for letting your dogs loose

on the best friend I could ever ask for;

but if I could do it all over again

I wouldn't have it any other way

because that is how

this moment was shaped.

Please don’t tell me now




It has been 7 suns
Since I last felt your warm embrace
And eight
Eight, oh so fucking
Cold
Nights
Your gentle hands
Exposed a world, I thought
I would never see
But now it’s
Gone
Gone
Gone
And I am once again lost
In the torrent of life
Like an autumn leaf tossing in winter winds
Out of place
And out of control.
Still,
I would not have it any other way;
Cupid stabbed my heart,
And now,
I must have my revenge
Please,
My creator
My destroyer
If you love me;
at all,
Please don’t tell me now.

The American Way



America,
This one’s for you –
Home of the brave
And land of the free
--market capitalism, that is.


Surely, our forefathers
-and mothers,
Started with the best of intentions
“A democracy
Of the people, by the people
For the people”
They said, of course a “person” was
A rich land owning white male over the age of twenty one


Truth be told,
It was really built by a coalition
Of two-thirds of people,
For the land-owning white people
On the backs of savage people
Who had brown skin
And lived with the land
Instead of against
Or off of, it
These people simply did not understand
“The American way”


“God Bless America”
Some vengeful god that must havre been
With the power of “manifest destiny”
He promised those
Greedy white men
An entire continent
Which they traded “money,”
A magical combination of green paper and metal coins
To other rich white males
Who also knew how to live against the land
In exchange for the land they then called
America.


Of course, God’s have a sense of humor too
Although it’s a poor one, at best
Because they made contradictory promises like that all the time
This one time
He, or she, or it – for that matter
Promised the same land to two different people’s
One which claimed to be “chosen” and apparently killed his first son
And another who refused to drink his blood, and prayed five times, daily.
Then told each of them, to claim it in his honor
This land, they called
Jerusalem.


That same god also told these
Rich white men, who called themselves Americans
And more generally, his children
To claim this land between two bodies of water in his name
So, as any child would
They obeyed the command of their father
And played a violent game of “capture the flag”
With the other people who had lived there for eons
Who had brown skin
And did not know “the American way”
Of course “flag”
Really meant life
And the white skinned people,
Did more killing than they did capturing
They did it with the best of intentions
And after all,
that’s what really mattered.

Of course America was also the land of
Religions freedom
One was free to worship whatever god he or she wanted
In so far as they also worshipped
Those green pieces of paper and metal coins
Which they gladly did
So the greediest and most “American”
Of all Rich, white, land-owning, men
Who promised god to represent the will of the people
(that is, the rich land-owning white male people)
Promised some of those green pieces of paper and metal coins
To the poorer, more rugged of the white male genus
In exchange for the heads of those brown people,
Who used the land wrong
Or did not use it at all

Of course everyone knew that children,
Of all colors were easy to kill
So they gave more money for the full-grown heads
Of those brown, heathen people
And even more for those which appeared to have penises

But the Americans have always been
A gentle people
Eventually, they felt bad for those
Heathen brown people
Who had not yet learned how to keep themselves warm.
So that winter, they gave them blankets
Of course, those blankets were infested with small invisible creatures
That made people who were not naturally immune
--Or otherwise, rich and white,
Very, Very ill.
“it was better to die warm
Than freeze to death”
They thought.

But America was no savage land
It was a land of honor, a land of justice
Eventually – those white people without penises
Managed to menstruate simultaneously
And demanded that those with penises treat them equally.
Menstruation was a technique of bleeding
For seven dsays at a time while lashing out at people
Without having to bear the consequences of doing so.
Basically, a get out of jail free card
So, to appease those people
The rich white land owning male people promised that
Those white people with vaginas instead of penises
Could help choose the rich white people
To represent their political wishes,
In a city they called “Washington”


The two-third people with charcoal skin
Were also awarded similar rights
On the condition that they don’t bother the people with white skin
“separate but equal”
The rich white men thought

So they built separate schools
And separate bathrooms
And separate restaurants
And separate water fountains
For the charcoal people
Of course the rich white men knew,
That some pigs were more equal than others.

The people with brown skin also
Got their “separate but equal”
In exchange for leaving the white people alone
And not complaining about the blankets
And the killings from back when they were less-than-people
So they gave them some of the land back,
But the brown people still missed
Their less-than-people who were brutally slaughtered
So they cried all the way to their new homes.

This land was eventually called “native country”
By the rich white people
Who sometimes walked down the trail of tears
To try and multiply their green paper
At placed called “Indian Casino’s”
But most of the rich white people lost money
So the rich white people who governed some of the states
(Which were smaller, more concentrated units of Americas)
Who could not stand to see the brown people win,
Banned those Casinos
On the land they supposedly gave back.

Now-A-Days
Americans claim they have changed their ways
Since the charcoal people and the brown people
With penises and vaginas
Are practically equal—
Or equally disadvantaged, at least
But some other people with brown skin
From some other continent
Who pray five times a day, to some other god
Don’t believe them
and occasionally fly planes into a few American buildings,
(which are tall structures that tickle the clouds
That were built by poor people
Of all colors
For rich white male people to work, pee
And cheat on their wives in.

But America,
Oh America
Has always been a just land
So we just labeled those people “terrorists”
And “enemy combatants” so we wouldn’t
Feel so guilty about slaughtering them, either
Maybe one of these days..
They too,
Will get their blankets.

To Blossom



They say spring is the most Beautiful season
I thought so too, That is,
until you showed me
Summer was the season
our love would blossom.
I had seen you around before,
Exchanged an embarrassing
Facebook message, Or two
But it was not until the summer
Of my senior year, That I felt you.
The person
The most beautiful Event,
that ever collided
With this lost, confused soul.
But that is how the world goes round,
That’s how destiny chose
To play it’s hand
On that august night
As we sat against the wall
In what we thought then, was
The most miserable of establishments
Staring at an apartment complex
Across the road where other people danced,
And partied the night away…




We danced too,
That night in the silent dorm roomTo our
own love songOne more beautiful than
I had Ever heard or felt.
This, I experienced.
The only sound
I heard was the sound
of our Heavy breathing
As you bit my lip And I
slipped my hands around
your Beautiful plush waste.
I was lost in your big brown
Eyes, for what Felt like a century.
Time passes slowly when you are
Learning to savor every second.
We fought the good fight -- You and I
Against fate, Against distance
Through even the coldest nights,
we kept our fire burning strong
whispering secrets to each other
late into the nightwe found warmth
in each others voices
while the lovers slept
and the poets prayed.



“two days and ten hours”
That’s how far we were from each other
But for that beautiful month,
You were here with me
By my side.
In my big broken bed,
I always left you a spot next to me,
And a match
Half-hoping that you would really
Be here, when I awoke
And we could
Burn that broken bed
Under the heat of our bodies;
Spark a love,
That we both knew
We had left, in our summer skin.


Cheers, here is to you—
My brown eye’d beauty,
We will always have Paris
Or whatever you want
to call that miserable
Austin dormroom
Where I learned
What Love
Was

Daybreak





Sir,
I call you a lot of things
Some good
And some bad
You are my provider – yes
You brought me into this world
And that’s a fact that sadly,
I cannot ignore
Whether on purpose, or by accident
Is a subject up for debate
But something you could never be,
Or will be,
Is my father.
No matter who’s name is on my birthcertificate
Or whatever last name I bear.
Sure, you are not only to blame,
It takes two to bear a grudge
But as long as you expect me
To live in your shadow;
To be your reflection –
I’m sorry
There’s simply no room for you here
I have simply grown too full for your cup
Of rum and coke
Or black label and sprite
From which you drank yourself blind
--To my accomplishments;
My growth.


But I know this is your home,
Your castle,
And like you always said
“we do things (your) way around here”
So please,
Do not be offended
As I take my leave,
My leap
My chance – at life
To see for myself whether or not
The grass is really greener on the other side
Don’t get me wrong
You will always be a part of me
The part that I’m always running from
Your shadow
Your reflection
Your smell and your touch
I hope, I pray
To a god I don’t believe in
I can be a better father
Than you
Ever
Were

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