Nirvana, Heaven, and December 2nd, 1987

Not since the Great Inception
and the human perception of Time,
or not unlike the invention
of the convention of rhyme,
did magic seem real,
and nature feel balanced
as the day that the Cosmos
proposed the Heavens a challenge.
It was a calm night in autumn,
short after
the close of November,
a phenomenon occurred;
forever remembered.
A cupid-like centaur
in a star-composed palace
lay content with his bow
and sipped drink from his chalice..
Appeased by his merriment,
He shot through the heavens
seven arrows ablaze;
a sight so majestic
that perfection was grazed
and contentment was struck
as the stars looked amazed
and learned of their luck.
God smiled down,
and saw it was good,
and smiled in the way
only A Great Spectator could.
This smile bore a light
and made a human reflection
for this joyous,
cosmic connection.
All love in the tropics,
on the brink of conception
of winter's progression...
And right that very second:
took a wonderful,  
and Worldly perspective...
met Heaven
on December 

The Best Friend Syndrome

A L W A Y S there for her,
he forever cared for her
through many a-drunk nights.
He'd seen too many cat fights
over OTHER guys
deemed more "likable"
HE wasn't considered excitable
enough for her.
She preferred
to be J U S T friends.
BEST friends.
With him
and this girl Kim...
and this other girl Stacy...
He'd get S P A C E Y
whenever she spoke
about jesters who joked
and were 
TOO foolish
to take her seriously
while SHE 
and HE
would E E R I L Y
do something simultaneously
that snapped them back to reality...
and he was love sick
and home alone
with his only remedy.
He'd do anything 
for the longevity
of their conversation.
Her lips moved so heavenly
about her conflicted situations.
And he was DYING with anticipation
for HIS
"seven minutes in heaven" kiss
on her couch.
his ego hurt so bad
it made him wanna scream, "OUCH!"
Get drunk
off several stouts
and rock out
to shout out:
"I don't know what I'd do without you"
because IT was THERE
especially when she  
FLIPPED her hair
but It would be GONE in the morning.
He'll be forever WANTING
something MORE.

Image courtesy of Vic Bam
I saw God in the sky one day in July,
laid back in my car
in a lot
getting high. 
The clouds made a shield
that protected my eyes, 
And the light was a pleasant 
unwrapping a worthy, 
What a solar surprise 
to recognize
the Heaven's disguise!
A pried open secret that the night would deny  
but the day couldn't keep it.
Even nature was peakin', 
at brilliance seeping 
and speaking:
"God will provide!"
The sight was enough
to make a grown man cry.

Quality Time

It was way past seven
in a champagne heaven
and now...
  they're just wishing for stars.
Arms outstretched,
they had a song on next,
from an ipod deck
while they rolled on the grass in the park.

A car drove by
like a long-term high
as they admired the expanse of the green.
She read KEATS
and he made beats
so it made out neat
when they spoke about the rage of machines. 

A Chance of A Dance By the Lake

have a certain rhythm to them,
like flapping wings.
Bonfires inspire,
musing soft things
to pull on strings.
a love song to ME
under the SPOTLIGHT
I might...
despite my spite for late romance.
You could... 
change the fact that I don't like to dance.
is not played by chance.
We both have noted circumstance
under the stars.
Our feet are dipped in silent, shallow waters;
hearts E C H O E D out to mars.
 A Beautiful Mess
You're a beautiful mess
the way you stress the fact that you have flaws.
I'm in awe of how bad the world wants to look like you.
It brings out your inner critic who
never gives you enough credit.
Don't regret it.
Let it be.
I swear, you'll see!
LIFE is a joke and we're ALL clowns
and most days you just have to LAUGH
and guess the punchline before it's told.
We can cry about our flaws when we get old.
 Party in the Evening of Eden
was invite ONLY!
And the way that they drank,
you'd swear  that this union was Holy.
designer labels
white-clothed tables...
ripping and roaring
like A N I M A L S
released from their stables.
They spoke of their lives.
Their stories
sounded  like fables!
They pigged out on food
just because  they were A B L E.
Champagne dripped
from their lips
to their navels,
stumblin'  about
like their limbs were disabled.
Their networks were merged...
with servers,
programmed like cable,
to dish out the spread
. . .'cause they F I N A G L E D  the BAGEL.
The music was L I V E
and they shucked  and they jived.
They loosened their ties
and laughed  'til they cried
with the darkest mascara
runnin' down from their eyes.
This is a S C E N E
you might've seen
in your D R E A M S
where the setting was clean
and the less that you gave
then the more you RECEIVED
of whatever you need.
Heaven for fiends
in a Garden of Green.

Where Are You? 
The sheets ruffled
as two legs shuffled

at the bottom of the bed.
She turned her face
to that middle place
where one would likely find a head.
Dead tired,
she asked,  
"Where are you?"
as she rose to toast some bread.
She lit a half-smoked cigarette
that was on the window's chipping ledge.
She breathed the air of mystery
with sun-highlighted dreads.
The toaster popped
and the sound had knocked
the silence
that was shed.
She wondered
what the chances were
she'd find someone again...
It was a lovely trip
as L O N G as it lasted
because I learned how to give,
without even asking!
We drove ourselves crazy
waiting for magic
and racing through traffic
without ever crashing
or knowing what happened.
The world felt like plastic,
but WE looked fantastic
for all of our flaws
seemed a little less tragic.
The ugliest truths
seemed much more attractive
and we realized ourselves
by being nostalgic.
Memory lane
was I N S A N E in the passing.
Ignition was key
because our hearts were proactive
for a life lived in F E A R
never gets play,
like brief radio-action.
A trip?
That, it was.
And we did it because,
no gassing it up,
dipping in tripping
is what a Venturer does.
Dream Home
I want to live in a beach house somewhere
where the water's translucent
and naturally clear
and the weather gives more 
than short shares of fair,
and natural disasters 
are far less than rare.
I don't even care
if I'm alone in this home
or if my presence is known.
I'd sleep lovely with the company of consistency.
The consistency of liberty 
to do as I wish,
to not sink when I think
or float like a boat,
  but to swim like a fish!
  I'd record in the sand all those past times I wrote.
I'd dream like a fiend,
and motion my way through the most epic of scenes.
  A sun-kissed romantic,
making love to the light...
I'd outstretch my arms
and run to embrace
the warm rays of sunshine that beam on my face.
I'd sleep with the stars 
without fear of the night.
Time would mean nothing.
Well, no...
it'd be something:
My day would be now,
the last second forever,
and I'd cast out to sea 
my bottled conceptions of never
and be drunk off the proof 
of the clear 
in the ever.
my moment would be here
and the incessance of ticking 
would just disappear.
I pray for this home,
this place of my own...
 Maybe in a Different Life, Perhaps at a Different Time
We were in the wrong Time.
I could feel it 
and your face revealed it. 
Sealed it.
My presence held no essence in the air for you,
And just so you know that I care for you,
that I'm always there for you,
it's only fair to you 
to let us dwindle 
like a spindle;
threading lies 
that you'll quickly unravel in a second 
and leave me bare to you.
I'll be left with dying embers
of what I remember of our flame.
I don't know when it left 
or when we came.
But how cold are you?
Don't you know how fast I burn for you?
If you were to watch me,
I'd stop.
My hands would turn to your face,
like a clock...
my hour
to be with the one.
But maybe in another life,
Perhaps some other Time.
In another time,
in another place,
you and I were a special case.
I had a different name
and a different face.
we must've had us quite the chase,
on how you make my heartbeat race.
And in this haste, 
I must've left at lightening speed;
jet set here
to outer space.
But that was then
And this is now.
But maybe in some other life, 
Definitely at a different Time...
than now.

American Badass

A SPRAY CAN shakes
as THE HOOD does a double take.
The aerosol can hisses
something like a salted snake.
The bagged-bottle d r i p p i n g,
with every moving stake.
The clock was t i c k i n g off to fate...
Sirens cried from somewhere off,
far away;
they sounded lost.
True L O V E is Art,
at at any cost.
Jesus Christ, in all who are mighty.
What a thought.
The hoods' lines were previously designed
to full fill a cross.
As abandoned cargo will soon be tossed.
Please. N O T to be crass,
but, SEE, the hood was a B A D A S S
(the kind that "wifed" up the girl with the fat ass).
The hood was glowing,
without even knowing,
and people could see that.
The voices convened that
the hood was trouble,
with double the struggle,
plus reason to flee fact.
at least of what's been seen,
captivated the less then free,
and R E E K ED of paint streaks
leaking down red, blue and green
on the horizon of a clashing city scene.
The streets had bred the hood into STRIFE,
and gave the hood canvas to paint THE LIFE.

In Biblical speech:
hoods KNOW the night
and KNOW of plight;
S E E the lights
but KNOW their rights.
After all,
THE HOOD was American.
Can We Make a Run for It?
Can we make a run for it?
We'd slip out
and dip out
of the dead of this night.
My baggage is packed
and it's zipped up
mad tight.
I've been pricked
by the points
that sew the threads
of my plights;
Unraveling distance
like the spool of a kite.
Can you be there to kiss me
and tell me that things are all right?
Delight my lack of apprehension
for this invitational extension,
and the fact that I've EVEN mentioned
your inclusion
in my plans for tonight...
Should only prove further
the extent of my like.
Do you SEE what I mean?
Do you WANT to be free?
Because I feel more now than ever
you're JUST what I need.
We'd sleep on our troubles
and have cannabis dreams
and we might even dabble in cigarette schemes;
all I would need is Life, you, and my light.
The world's best hotel suites
with i-pod docks
and swipe card locks,
only sound safe to me
if you are my rock.
Are you in
are you not?
If they're cold,
then we'll show them
what it means to be hot.
If you're low,
then I'll rise you to the top
of my priority list.
So, truly,
what do you make of this?
Can we make a run for it?