Bliss

My generation is ignorant of their wastefulness,
they just sit in their shit, refilling their faces;
ignorant of those born without congruent circumstances,
they shape the world to their narrow understandings.
Somewhere in the dark recesses of their repressed humanity,
They mute the screams
Of Congolese children- soldiers, whose ecstasy binges couldn't
desensitize their wounds;
Of the superfluous homeless dwelling in the graveyards of Cairo,
now-living-dead, exhumed;
Of the 90 something Pakistani's blown to bits by sacrificial
explosions today,(Salaam aleikum);
Of the Palestinians watching God partition Zion with his almighty
military-industrial arm, in favor of those who built fortunes on
the dispossession of their neighbors;
Of the fiends in Baltimore's slums, bleeding from their track
lesions, stigmatically itching for a hit of Jesus to calm their
storms;
Of the ethnic irreconcilabilities of Cyprus, whose Blue and Red
blood floods an island from too-separate landmasses;
Of the 3000 Columbians that have died every year, four decades long,
for political power;
Of the second children born in the cities of China;
Of those without a facebook account of their lives;
Of those without readily accessible clean water ;
Of those that might not eat tonight;
Of those without freedom;
Of those without homes;
Of those without family;
Of those without clothing;
Of those without opportunity;
Of those without hope;
Of the words that will remain unspoken.
Everyone deserves to have somebody who remembers their name.
I wrote this for the anonymous masses,
buried in unmarked graves,
and miniature caskets.
I pray you forgive our forgetfulness.

Frozen depths

Sometimes I feel like my life is falling to pieces, and I have neither the strength, nor the desire, to keep pulling it back together.

It seems I will always be a forlorn soul, alone, in the deepest winter, the cold endlessly nipping at my bones.

Looking back

Who is man to take another's soul in his hands?

It's sad
how ignorant most of us have become
of the value of life.

Even centsless violence has its price.

When you look into another human's eyes
do you see God looking back?
Or are you blind to the fact
of divine inspiration?

It breaks my heart to watch children die.
Mother's cry over bodies
that expired before they ripened,
trying to resound their immature silence with tears.

I write this hoping to somehow atone for the commissions of unreported crimes-

for myself, others, and anyone left, undercover.
I pray this finds it's way to any unmarked grave
that was dug deep enough to avoid detection.
May this light the way of smothered flames and unkept brothers.

Rest in peace,
though it eluded you in waking.

Feelings

I love you because you don’t run
when the scars are revealed.
When I talk about monsters
you look me in the eyes.

I stare into the sun,
Forever blinded by the light
of her burning clutches.
I'm not putting up a fight.

Take me out.
I got my hands tied in your embraces.
My defense
is down.

I dropped my guns,
and came back to you. Now
I see that you're my drug.
I'm strung out for your love.

Light my fire in the storms.
I'm sending you a message in a bottle,
hoping it finds you in due time.
There's a diamond inside I'd like you to keep warm.

We have exhausted the finite lover's lexicon,
to be expected of two poets.
Sighs, songs, and poster board hearts.
I wrote you poems- all midsummer night long.

You grab me by the soul,
and keep pulling me closer.
Your verse was God's message
to my folded fingers.

I feel it in the strokes
that defy my memories to hope.
Touch me.
It is the only sense I feel anymore.

Everything becomes so vivid.
The music simmers slow.
It feels like it's be years already,
just imagine getting old.