above a certain point

honey taste

the yellow pack

fog takes over

as if the clouds

are afraid of heights

something which

eye am not

allowed above a certain point

anymore but not any less

struggling with the pun at times

in the other hand held the poison

on the eve of day fifty-two

battling one addiction

at a time and excited for the day

when the pan stands alone…

nothing concluded 168

each one is

a different session

doesn’t matter

which spot

one whose table

it appears as though

no one saw it coming

back ten years ago

when things seemed

simpler

each one

it’s own entity

strung together

like malas

on the wrist

got to go like a 3

year old after

some water and a long

drive out west

nothing concluded

home is where

the heart is held

strong no matter

the distance

from there

to here

and back

if necessary

and someday

we all might have to live

underwater

will be the norm

someone will think of

something crazier

nothing concluded…

empty stomach

writing with revolution on the mind

it starts with one pen one mind

one love for freedom

one can see the moon full now through

the blinds listening to revolutionary songs

fist clenched and raised

thoughts bright like the moon

reflecting this son’s light

writing with the culture of hip hop

on the mind knowing it’s a part

of this life lived

writing with no rhyme or reason

stands firm seeing through the fog

carefully placed in front of eyes

hoping for the best

knowing the worst calls the shots

writing still with revolution on the mind

writing revolving evolving into a stronger

being pushing out to the edge

and over down

to the pit bottom

of an empty stomach…

short ladder

nothing left

to do but

sleep it off

like a long day

or night depending

on the position of the sun

if you can see it

from where you stand

or sit or kneel to pray

or something

like that

nothing left

to do but

think a moment more

and then

sleep it off

like too much of the good smoke

or not enough

depending on the height

of the ladder…

no sun again

608/2006 (1035pm)

still colder than it should be

warm by now

and the phone won’t ring

around each corner

somehow no one

has anything to smoke

killed the spirit

one month ago

been hiding in the backwoods

ever since nine o’clock

out on the porch

waiting for the sky to clear

everyone needs a dose of sun light

almost the first day

of the warm season

and somehow only rain

has filled the majority

of the days and nights

lately far from the spot

sun shines on smiles all around

the eleven train is on time

and that should make someone happy

and the last hour of the day

does not bring a call

as previously thought

drowning in all this rain…

nothing concluded 167

the day before
something horrific
who would predict
and more importantly
where is the response

scheduled poorly
unlike the drills
keep it secret
until the last minute
entirely too predictable

by now
like the weather
then they may even
admit the modifications
made

prefabricated story
ready to hit the newsstands
before anyone knows
who knows
mystery

solved ten years from now
twenty years
a wacky writer
on the back porch
straight back

penthouse
or flat could be anywhere
and nearly anyone
with a pen in hand
could write the next

chapter until
the final day
when there is
seemingly nothing
left to say

back woods anyway
nothing concluded
and here I will stay
tonight no different
under some stars

trees smoke mirrors
must be magic
the way habits
put aside like
a couple bucks for coffee

unspoiled like the ground
we live on strong
until the end
even if not long
day or night

sing the song
that freedom
some paper guarantees
when will they
steal it too

what will the patriots do
who will help
those need to be truly
liberated in the mind
(slaughtered Haditha-style)

sickens the peaceful
mind war thoughts
utterly disturbing
no matter where or when
nothing concluded...