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I asked a woman to change her curls to forever straight,
and offered $50,000 (a sum on my mind that day after a
rough day trading), to maintain said style in perpetuity

she has accomodated me now for over a decade+, but
every every, every now and every then, She pulls me
closer than close, whispers 50K~ok!, and hits me with a
hip swaying pow, her physio~verbal cueball reminder,
that poets must always pay their debts, and even forever
too,
has its poetic limitations
this kids,
is how you do it

in the mid of the dark hours,
when two am is your new oldest friend
when sleep, your oldest old one,
left town on the midnight train,
taking your peace of mind

though she is far away
lost in dream-thoughts caught,
but only twelve inches close,
granting you an unasked permission,
you ok to stroke her hair,
undisturbing her, yet comforting yourself,
every voice in your temple'd altar praying,
one glorious chorus godly chant:

Oh Lord, what would I do without her?

and you stroke her hair and are saved.


2:51am

May 2014
People say that
Real men don’t cry
       Then why am crying?
   I never knew
    The true meaning
      Of a poem
     Until
      You
      Appeared
early daylight across my face sweeping,
gingerly ginger-yellow heated by the low-
risen sun, it confirms what my beating heart
yet signals, granted us, a new twenty and four,

but no more,

for certainty is not a human condition, so we cover
our eyes, not from the sun-rays, but in deference and
thankfulness and  gratitude, that we have one more chance
to the world distribute, blessed human loving kindness, unique,
the greatest gift most excellent we human possess to give away freely!

Jewely 23, Twenty Twenty Three
8:30am
It doesn't always have to be a sunset
Sometimes the sun just needs to come down

It doesn't always have to be chemical desire
Sometimes it's just two deaf, blind bodies

Colliding in the dark with no conclusion
It doesn't have to be logical

Sometimes you've gotta aim at the sun
With a steady finger on the trigger of the water gun

And pull

It's not always about success
In fact, it's never about success

They lit a million candles
Over the crash site of Icarus

And every good man has a corner of his heart
Devoted to the Sylvia's of this world

It doesn't always have to be a holiday
Sometimes screaming is enough

It doesn't always have to be an island retreat
Sometimes it's just an empty train carriage

To sit and read with trembling hands
Over an easy magazine

It doesn't always have to be difficult
Sometimes love feels like dying in your sleep

At others, it's your window reflection
In a strange new town

It doesn't always have to be a sunset
Sometimes colour is rinsed by cloud

It doesn't have to be poignant, or fair -
Sometimes the sun just needs to

Come down
C
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