saphire blue , eyes that capture , eyes that captivate , a love struck trance , breathes life into an open yet vacant heart , they sear and tattoo the mind with the absolution of complete emmenance of adoring love .
shine like precious gems to be sure , sending an invitation into heaven ,an invitation into euphoria ,bliss, and tranquility , a universe onto its own into forever they fill the spaces in between spaces , the soul is now blessed.
ever so deep are these windows into life, they allow for true escape , undivided attention is never lost , an ocean of peace and caring dance in there glistening shine , wisdom and whimsy with a touch of playfulness is the mark left in the heart.
romance and passion is sure to be found in such an island of pleasure , soft and tender , cautious , and courageous , dreamy and kind , to look away , dare not , these eyes , now take the journey to an escalade of new heights , could this really be, not a dream and no wishes needed.
Prisms blue sky's residue new tymes themes knew rymes seldom brewed limes suddenly I resume Time Jacks timeless I flew the flag I screw the nails I drew a line I refuse to assume to plead with a gossip girl fossils pearls glossy flossing on turtle scales tare weight grams inches minx oil drinks all around
To tavern be named Glued to Perils Presumed to escalade on in ski's Galieas cross path beseeched intertwined so gloomy Loom Lake appears
We have fences around homes...
locks on doors
bars across windows
video cameras-
motion detectors
and panic rooms.
To protect the only sanctuary that we have.
Even heaven has a vetting gate to keep evil at bay.
but they call trump a heartless, racist...
for protecting the only sanctuary that we have...
We kill a half a million babies a year.
Then riot over the inhuman treatment of a chicken
that we are about to devour.
Tens of thousands of homeless, hungry Americans w/o healthcare.
My illegal alien neighbor gets everything for free.
Sports around in a Cadillac escalade (though used)
and has a seven-day weekend.
By Street Cries
I run for the days my ancestors where slaves beat tossed in a grave
Four hundred years work no pay
Death to those who ran away
Hung from a tree till they passed away
Women and children taken away
Stripped of religion way they pray
I run for the days Malcolm X was slayen
Martin Luther had a dream but ended the same
Government flooded hoods with cocaine
Panthers blamed put in prison chains eraseing names
Marching for civil rights police fight dog bite Mississippi burning at night
I run for the days churches went
a blaze
Hatred for the way we are made
Homeless kids no where to stay
my people trapped in a maze
Buying escalade cent not saved
Taught to be consumers keep us in place
So I run this race voice of the unheard
Put mental food on da plate
Going pass rules they make
Supply masses with tools that don't break
Blood of a king you can see it in my face
Lessons learned...
-are blessings earned…
The fear of the being social
has always brought trepidation,
and in my youth I’d be scared
to try new escapades-
Severe anxiety with
apprehensive contemplation
wondering if the dismay
in my heart will escalade.
As I grew older my dread
of certain situations,
just became worse and
I grew more afraid-
I just couldn’t find any
comprehendible alleviation,
but I decided it was time to
make new friends who stayed.
So, one day after church I
took the pastor’s recommendation,
I went up to a nice lady and
a new friend I made-
She was so sweet and welcoming,
what a relieving sensation,
so gradually my social anxiety
began to fade.
Slowly I learned that there is
a moral in this illustration,
a taught message was
predominately displayed-
I now believe that in life socializing
can be a celebration,
and found blessings in lessons...
-in taking off my masquerade.
Lessons in Life Learned
February 12, 2017
You see them all the time,
the Stepford wife
and her counterpart,
the bronzed over, buffed high sheen,
man bun walking in skinny jeans,
so tight they squeak...
HIPSTER as they pass on by.
With a flower in the beard,
the artisans musk hinting the air,
bees wax soap and a scent of irony,
the newfound Stepford-hipster syndrome,
Both are the same
but from different sides,
one glossy eyed,
over-medicated,
injected perma- grinned.
The other a living Subaru commercial,
planting city trees,
while in the not so distant future
a real life Bancksy dog will pee.
The urban sprawl,
the shame of it all,
the 1%,
the cost of the gas,
that gets her to the shore
while texting and calling in her oversized Cadillac Escalade,
that was beeped violently at it drove right past
A city zap it rental,
Toyota Prius hybrid sport,
on the Garden State Parkway
with a flowered bearded hipster
driving slowly with thick black glasses,
inside.
As twilight's shadows light does fade
Dark machinations interstices invade
In deep crevasses, insecurities cascade
In dark corners, fears, doubts parade
Day's, blithe rhythms subconscious channels evade
Night's diabolical inventions the deep recesses pervade
My twittering eyes cannot the bleary apparitions dissuade
As mind's candle flickers, o'er frontal lobes dark minions escalade
As primed marionette's mimicked taunts degrade,
so galvanized, inner demons perform mock charade
Ghoulish forms are imprinted with a sharp spade
Entreating figments as sane ideas masquerade
My nurtured perceptions of reality are staid
Nightmarish delusions all rational outlets blockade
Portentous visions of calamitous peril overlaid
Underpinning, disturbing dreams crack shallow facade
Discordant tremors breach; tone deaf ears serenade
Shock waves pulse down spine; nerve endings frayed
Attention to all the feeble masses
The massive ones have gone,
The one’s who once ruled the prairie’s of Kansas
Wooly cumbersome saints they were ,
Yea those ones, yea they are gone, they have left.
Now we are left, all, to be unchallenged, un thwarted
From our goals of glamorized mediocrity
We are now the Conquers , but some how smaller.
Attention to all the second rate hacks, fist pumping
Jack’s,
Attention to the High-heeled princesses vomiting next
To an Escalade at three in the morning,
Wake up from your reality,
it is your time!
The great ones have gone!
There are no more of the mastodons
Weep,for the great hairy Behemoths have left us,
Left us,
To keep all this beauty.
You got yo little Escalade
Now all the ladies know you get paid
When you walk in all the girl stare
Because they know that your the man that can take them there
You got yoyur little penthouse in Beverly hills
But I'm the one with lokks to kill
I walk past you to say hi
But you ignore meand keep going by
you invite me back to your place
Then in the morning I leave without a trace
Old tucker brown wanted to
Go fishing,
He sat and planned his day
Of activity,
He got his fishing gear, with
His rubber boots in hand,
“Oh my gosh”
It is pouring cats and dogs,
Maybe a Cadillac,
One……
At the most, do not know the
Color…
For the clouds were so very
Black..
Well,
At least he thought it was,
You could see his anticipation
As he looked out the window
The excitement aroused as
A rainbow appeared..
He cried out…
With a big yell..
While the wind cease to
Sway….
Clouds dissipated over the little
Fishing pond..
Down the hill….
Well now, it stop pouring cats
And dogs..
Therefore, he kept the Cadillac, which
Color I do not know..
“Oh My Lordy”
Indeed, it is a miracle for the big
Guy, seen fit to pour him out a
Coffee color Cadillac,
Four door Deville…
A platter of catfish and the
Trimmings
Even a shrimp or two
My God, who can ask for
Anything more,
Except for me a pearl color
Escalade…
I wish…
But the story is about old
Tucker Brown...
Finger nails against the grain.
The blood spreads and begins to stain.
Red and white.
The night begins to escalade.
Empty answers to the wrongly played.
Black and blue.
The bruises grow.
Answering to cliffs below.
Grey and green.
Infections of an earlier decade.
My soul, I ask you to trade.
Orange and violet.
Colors that do not show.
When your answers glow.