stone gables and the freedom of dwelling in you...comfort. (R) hymku

wrapped in morning speaking monsoons walking turgid legs...hope. (R) hymku

endorsed morning chants; slip from my tongue to the ground...fragrance. (R) hymku

in my mouth the taste of a low humming, our late talkings. (R) hymku

dnt push my love-cup aside, grab for the pewter indifference. (R) hymku

gripped me by my sight, exploited my reverence and words. (R) hymku

caught within the rain, playacting our deliverances. (R) hymku

He anoints my head with oil, my cup runs over. (R) hymku

and the coldness seeped thru young old bones. young man awakens. (R) hymku

yeah, shooting needles in my arms for yesterdays contrivances. (R) hymku

who enslaves us stealing from the modern taste of liberty. (R) hymku

and under this young blueness my strength stirs, my limbs exhale. (R) hymku

holding my black brown yesterdays in tight lipped silences. (R) hymku

when I come riding my green horses against the tenement dust. (R) monoverse

day is hard as the might you gather from the ancients words. (R) hymku

the morning awaits you grabbing the strength of your fathers words. (R) monoverse

welcome home to my white seasons of knowing you. (R) hymku

the royal house is more than we anticipated. re educated in His ways. (R) monoverse

drew life, real life from the lips of that tome...bless you Yahweh! (R) hymku

rising from sleeps' strong arms...aretha sings new joy and dances. (R) hymku

casual and easy rainfall. on my back staring in the face of now. (R) monoverse

invested in more than...well...couldn't be sure...oh well. (R) hymku

148th young man life spread wide scent of promise and the tears sing. (R) monoverse

dingy curtains her eyes tracing the webs in the wall folds. (R) hymku

drone of cop cars...dirty hotel two men lost in tears and sex. #amsen17

the topsoil planted conspiracies. in your mouth sweet tastes. (R) hymku

this patchwork moment. old buik mid afternoon sails. (R) hymku

lopsided grin feeding my rituals along afternoon sand dreams. #amsen17

in Benyon's bathroom asking him to leave his wife for me. (R) hymku

memoirs read right to left. thoughts scrawled in elisions. (R) hymku

he brought the chasm swallowed day emitted a breathing moment in my arms. (R) monoverse

florida the place to escape eyes cold and fall into his arms hard. #amsen17

impromptu engagement meeting near old christmas tree he really wants the man next door. (R) monoverse

raped woman looking for bread crums of redemption light rain. (R) hymku

his poor thoughts led him thighs parted the song in anothers' mouth. (R) hymku

walked out the door long before the walk down the aisle...hurting. (R) hymku

met old faithful second floor stairwell cement sounds and feelings of...something. #amsen17

his version of climbing in my bed dry fireplace warm whisperings fall. #amsen17

would my nakedness offend the upbeat evening's chorus? (R) hymku

not satisfied with wheezing days...give me more than right now. (R) hymku

'cross the way Canterbury cafe. Lupe's smile touch me. (R) hymku

last fall the losing of my leaves your winters' cold glances. (R) hymku

your mouth sketches splendid facsimilies of life...(R) hymku

plaster of paris living-i was rash to pagan this. (R) hymku

this day I wore holy words. decked out in a peace not known. (R)hymku

more pubescent moments folding on me. (R)hymku

Septet #2

uptown man, yellow creole man...sun-kissed,

red flecks and bowed skies whistling against earth's

descant. i knew me. the silent walks I

took; exploring only those things the dark

concealed. considering eyes balanced be-

tween midnights, and the approaching morning.

in the distance this mezzo sings fluent.

©2011 Wordchestral Publishing

Abhanga #2

simple wish. just want a

man who consumes me. a

man who fashions one day

to adorn me.

©2011 Wordchestral Publishing

Octaves I, II, III

I.

listen to it...incessantly begging...

asking, struggling, and pulling a refrain

that grates on the nerves. ears usually

deaf to the primal growl; my guilty hands

to blame for opening the door. what door?

portals to the never-fulfilled, bottomless

pit of lust. citizen of Nod, a real

wanderer praying for redemption's touch.

II.

waited near a setting sun. old woman

shuffling down Broad St. purse full of scorched

nostalgia; stockings torn. her air, one of

peace. ...was difficult waiting for me to

scrape off last evenings' fear. i hear her old

age-darkened voice peeling back pain, taking

the dirt of insecurities; telling

me to live, to boldly go, get and grow!

III.

I used to dream monochromatic. I

used to walk carrying a pocket-full

of un-jaded freedom. Freedom not grown

in the palm of hardship, cultivated

out of pain...i used to approach the sun,

my blatant blackness loud and un-contained.

then I was reckless and fresh...times before

I grew up; introduced to this REAL life.

©2011 Wordchestral Publishing

Sonnet IV and V

IV

knew what incompletion felt like. once I

traveled extended years...journeyed through the

terrains of life giving of myself in

the hopes someone would reciprocate. knew

what giving all of me until I had

no more of me felt like. i lived it, most

of my life. eyes blinded by the brilliance

of fiber-glass stars accompanying

an imitation reality, and

for what? ive known the emptiness, ive drank

the bitter waters of nothing-else-to-

give. knew what incompletion felt like, tried

overlooking the loneliness. tried to

put up white-washed walls, like I had structure...

eventually I grew up, through the pain.

 

V

monitoring my life...considering

my ways. taking the candle, light splashing

the darkened floors of this unexplored soul.

what will I see? will I be prepared to

meet the hidden things; face the ignored things?

the fall of twenty eleven, I...made

thirty; lights dancing before fresh, opened

eyes; I took an inward look at me; saw

me for the first time...saw the little me

cowering in corners of hurt, painted

with fears and distilled aggravations.

...glanced into the eyes of neglect, the air-

dampened with numbness; I pushed myself to

face myself...healing and wholeness entered...

 

©2011 Wordchestral Publishing

heavy rainfall 3am chill im still awake loving Yah. (R)hymku

half cut grass side of the highway. headin home frm the job. (R)hymku

'round midnight ill trail my feet in darkened skies and languish. (R)hymku

carolinas' voice stroll across my ears. some sound ill wear. (R)hymku (to isj)

outside smells of iron. in me the nothingness of this life. (R)hymku

in sepia movement frozen against backdrop of life. (R)hymku

over gauze and tea fractured fireplace I guess we must leave. (R)hymku

turned me on dvd-like a feature to entertain your ennui. (R)hymku

for my book (Unrhymed Septet and Hymku)

Septet

I.

aint nothing but a southern negro son,

a god-made aria, married to my art.

desperately searching out a place to plant

a sapling of sound and breath. looking for

a brief pause just to sing...you know? that pause

to collect my tunes and bury them, spread

my own song across a thirsty earth-scape.

®hymku

parted thighs singing ancient songs; we will sail down mornings.

©2011 Wordchestral Publishing

for my book (Abhanga, Rime Royal)

Abhanga

the approaching evening

comes complete with gray chills.

his last cry, mountain fields

that die in me.

Abhanga

morning-old woman's cry

greets day with unabridged

weakness. Moist mem'ries slid

down my dry life.

rhyme-royal

I.

down Lexington and 45st street he

walked the walk of men condemned, that dead-walk.

passed me by, heard this swallowed 'hello.' seen,

that dangerous look, empty eyes that stalk.

it was May; the air full of peoples' talk

and he made it to her place. No greetings

only cold glances...sound of birds singing.

II.

i was a boy-man making men hobbies.

married to insecurities. i would

misplace my right to think; my body leased

loneliness I wore, reaching what I could;

I indwelled this structure blackened wood...

a house intended for empty mem'ries

and me trying to find those living keys.

©2011 Wordchestral Publishing

for my book (Unrhymed Sonnets)

Unrhymed Sonnets

I.

with baited breath, taming shrews-discordant

music that weaves a delicate tune out

of step with the goings-ons of your lies.

your feeble attempts to display a free-

dom well beyond your means; you, man; took the

last vestiges of black pride; of being

a 'man-type pride,' and littered our walk-ways

with tears and regrets and hidden fears strum

up chandelier-like. what aimlessness you

lived. in the back of grieving mornings, I

still approach the hope that you'll find a way

to adjust and become the man, the you,

you've been searching for. my man...re-claim your-

self, take back the sound and fury of you!

II.

i was game for the kind of sex you dished

out. made myself get in tune with below-the-

surface innuendos that only served

to heighten awareness of 'we.' when you

spoke in viola-dark music...when you

percussioned what was left of my resolve;

instinctively I composed a song form

of dusty tomorrows, sweaty limbs, and

a cashe of open pores drinking in each

brush, grunt, growl, moan...invoking that something.

My man, your riverdark whisperings leave

your voice tatooed, my neck; your food and I

willingly loose my footing, falling head-

long into your musculature-this...trip.

III.

...and day ignited in a dry soul. met

peace and rain-pour inhaling your breathing.

we were good. laying beneath silenced skies

your even breaths walking the length of my

rejoicing in church style hallelujahs'.

can't remember any moment as nice

and secure as this one, laying here in

your folds; becoming unified. my sound,

your sound-becoming our sound. bowing...to

tom-toms beating, your strong; deep eye-glances

bleeding re-newed passion over my form.

mannnnnn this be good! this be righteous! amid

the scent of silence, and singing rising

from earth-i...memorialize this now.

©2011 Wordchestral Publishing

nuzzled against the face of regret. women discussing. (R)hymku

redemptions' song each time you sail down afternoon moments. (R)hymku

eyes closing mind filled with thoughts of form and writing new works. (R)hymku

the need grates. finding herself in need of blue noise and you. (R)hymku

wrapped in you like persian rug. deposit your cold elsewhere. (R)hymku

bed of wood, whitewashed hands pulling sap frm phallic roots. (R)hymku

my man walked weary negro streets with wild bloodsongs in E. (R)hymku

speckled walls, lies hiding scared man drinking grief and cabernet. (R)hymku

what I need is touchmoan kisses and love that plants me. (R)hymku

thumbed through the pages of your flesh book real intriguing. (R)hymku

inspired to be wooden. desired to speak viola-like. (R)hymku

lonely man scaling walls of choice darkness. embroidered sight. (R)hymku

from between my breasts dangling sunsets. charm your lips. (R)hymku

like from the belly of drums you march my life...take my sound. (R)hymku

woman's breast stone mountain grieving eyes old as soil and rain. (R)hymku

old wicker dreams and brittle whispers leave me weak. (R)hymku

winds' nappy hair . sound congealed . in distance a woman cries. (R)hymku

baby this be liquor yo tongue in my mouth dancing hi. #blues #hymku

lift our sun cup, this maiden journey to a bronze love-chant. (R)hymku

turned eastward in hoping its love and not lust. stir-fry care. (R)hymku

anniversary of my mans' death look beyond this now. (R)hymku

love between us a long string o' emeralds adorn this neck. (R)hymku

my comings and goings leave hidden tastes. I speak in tongues. (R)hymku

every foot dances glazed pottery with your eyes embossed. (R)hymku

this wild scented day greets me with orchestras and mixed smiles. (R)hymku

I must run laughing and smelling the sound of philly. (R)hymku

you fixed me a bowl of your pulse heard the singing in me. (R)hymku

took that moment to remove sediment dreams that litter. (R)hymku

and I beheld - the menorah, light to eyes - seeing past dark. (R)hymku

old chair reclined - the moisture of silence - dampening me. (R)hymku

he sought this - non regal sound, I was - left seeking something. #senryu

may I loose my senses beneath your tongue? (R)monoverse

His oboe taming her rich viola measure for measure. love concerto. (R)monoverse

he spoke in gregorian - chants...wearing aramaic - whispers; he settles. #senryu

with holy water - bathing franciscan evenings my - lonely book to read. #senryu

met midnight - cement wilderness - your empty ways. #senryu

these private moments - when sky and clouds - hear my prayers. #senryu

you frame worlds - each time you breathe - in bronze laughter. #senryu

tonight, in need - you and God, - this evening walk. #senryu

naked wonderment leading to dulcimer-played days. #monoverse

the Creator horrified His creations giving themselves over to self and devils. #monoverse

parents horrified watching children given to the mouth of Moloch. #monoverse

the great automotive beasts coming to a standstill along the paved tundra. #monoverse

within the frustration that golden pocket of silence...peace. #monoverse

ashen lips utter early chants with quick feet I meet morning. #oneline

unsatisfied with recycled dreams-cut down trees build new visions. #oneline

1st of october howling toward a deaf ear. gritty sorrow I leave. #amsen17 -SoJourner

came with nihlist words-grabbed my stride, my purse & left. #alex12 -SoJourner

to what would I compare this rugged silence hmmm? #alex12 -SoJourner

we spoke of sex in covered tones. #sevenwords -SoJourner

lost soul begging me for defining. #sixwords -SoJourner

aged socialite, me gigalo; entrepreneurial endeavors. #sixwords

knew his lies, dogwood days stretching-his closetspace empty. #oneline

whispered, old canticals-laid in bed in need of touches near your breath. #amsen17

each thrust, receiving him deeper wine deep sighs and tense rhythm. #oneline

wore his breath my garment. his folicles my adornment. carrying his masculinity in my stride. #oneline

the emir-incense lullabies mask over clean white sheets of hot sands. #amsen17

draggin our tired bodies through negro streets-burning for half gone repose. #amsen17

in the old clock tower his thighs my waist each thrust like butter and heat. #amsen17

cold pizza rainy evening amid books and books the scholars' love affair. #amsen17

wanted normal wanted rich quiet need to dance to the flow of blood. #amsen17

the quiet reachin out sweaty hands dance across his erections...tears. #amsen17

the emir's displeasure stains the palace dinner a quiet affair. #amsen17

bastard he left, humble he came. solidarity found in two oak trees. #1lineku

look upon my silence. nurture my embers. #1lineku

and your mind slips between the parted thighs of my memory...deeply long stroke my synapses. #oneline

a cabal of men sliding their hardened lusts between the legs of my satiation. #oneline

walks down old roads. he planted HIV her womb drowning. #1lineku

in with the storm several concerns-reading the newspaper. #1lineku

forced words split the air. #fivewords

this south kat, alto sax pillage these eastern thoughts. #1line ku

mid morning prayers to coffee grounds. #1line ku

watched him caress the thighs of cocaine. tears distilling. #1line ku

casual remembrances. carrying the old houses' dust. #1line ku

a taste of old regrets slightly decaffinated. #1line ku

the first dawn reading your rain. planting our sound on old tin roofs. #1linesenryu

lsley said: 'day will make a way for night...' watched you eyes bathing in your here. #1line ku

and they often lacked clarity-thought while cutting grass. #oneline

he was tallis in flesh came with words draped in cambodian nights and reality. <1-line ku>

became a prisoner to facist love, slave to tyrannical passion. <1-line ku>

withered fall evenings drowning nostalgia in cups of camomille tea. <1-line ku>

with wide opened life, he lives. he breathes soundness. <1-line ku>

pale memories while planting peas...she brushes falling tears-blue noise. <1-line ku>

lost the ability to grow beyond you. sewing tattered sheets. <1-line ku>

dark. latin. oozing mexican evenings along beaches with unpronouncible names. <1-line ku>

evenings spent yearning your scent inundates active pores. <1-line ku>

this river ran free in me. outback dreams. <1-line ku>

this stroll beneath mocking skies, a man pregnant with regret. <1-line ku>

my favorite assassin appeared my inhibitions stolen...regrets. <1-line ku>

removed that familiar spot. tossing the begging away like trash. <1-line ku>

pillars of my thighs bore stories etched in blood and soul-ties. <1-line ku>

the contents of my soul left me appalled...<1-line ku>

his once sweet intelligible words now grunts of primal anger and fear. <1-line ku>

my man...wearing scented dust. other women soil in my yard. <1-line ku>

carried her cacophony quietly-decorated with a blackened eye/bitter soul. <1-line ku>

starched nonchalance he wears to bed wears through our day. <1-line ku>

he called again. ears drugged and raped by smooth one-track lies. <1-line ku>

abandoned jazz scene. sasparilla tunes...this woman occulted. <1-line ku>

interstate, woman pacing with purpose; intent on freedom. <1-line ku>

backyard full moon, 'Hey Mr. Arnstein, here I AM!' sung to yawning sky. <1-line ku>

my free spirit. he spoke soundless, lost me. <1-line ku>

sanctify the tears...washing dishes. moon drinking schnapps. <1-line ku>

around my neck wearing paste evenings, reading books to forget. <1-line ku>

from her pain, ive learned the undead living. <1-line ku>

was swindled by smooth words and cool touches-false one rejoices. <1-line ku>

I pass the time in run-down yesterdays. <1-line ku>

man of the occult-each time faces change and hollow words mislead. <1-line ku>

disco to the earth tunes...sounds of Fall. <1-line ku>

you were bold-mouth holding day defiantly. <1-line ku>

wasn't unusual to bathe in your perspective; mine abandoned. <1-line ku>

met him cast in sepia this scapegoat bears we. <1-line ku>

sat against pregnant sunshine...<1-line ku>

in your embrace: rugged twilights and eunuch'd laughter. <1-line ku>

the mouth of our lives...greatest con men. <1-line ku>

my fears taught me to become the greatest actor.

my ways, soiled and cheap, I have some dignity.

translate the broken laughter: pain.

unwanted interludes, eyes seeing silence.

caught the buddha of your instep.

your laughter, dank...i still fall.

each soul; pleading to be noticed.

he was a boy not a man, running from truth. American Sentence

Taxi ghosts at dusk pass Monoprix in Paris 20 years ago. American Sentence

I can still see Neal's 23-year-old corpse when I come in my hand. American Sentence.

Naropa Hot Tub: The ocean is full of naked young boys and Neptune-bearded old men. American sentence

The young stud who dreamt I "dick'd his ass" asked me to take him to supper. American Sentence

put him on loop. downloaded his sound i strut to his cadence. <monostich>

go the way your blood beats. <sixwordstory>

watched emotions scatter across your brow. <sixwordstory>

yet ignored by the autumn whispers. <sixwordstory>

we've just been built on lies! <sixwordstory>

wore those pearls with her fears. <sixwordstory>

supper consisted of silence and irritation. <sixwordstory>

i was never fond of your daddy. <sixwordstory>

...come here! <twowordstory>

she wore indifference, like last seasons' fur. <sevenwordstory>

his eyes: infinity... <threewordstory>

yeah, shes like a black hole. <sixwordstory>

major in linguistics. studying the language of your soul, ill translate in motions. <monostich>

the book, ho! read the book. <sixwordstory>

random thoughts...

not connected to Yahweh
no nature of Yeshua
no sensitivity to Ruach HaKodesh

You are wise in the eyes of Yahweh when He can speak a word and you can DO it!
The moment you UNDER-estimate INSTRUCTIONS of Yahweh; HE closes HIS mouth! -PastorWLJ2
The law or instruction of Yahweh has a built-in penalty. When you break HIS laws/instructions; what you broke penalizes you! -PastorWLJ2
Judgement is already BUILT-IN the law! -PastorWLJ2
Laws have BUILT in Judgement and Benefit. -PastorWLJ2
Holy Spirit will ONLY enlighten the word when YOU submit. -PastorWLJ2
When you submit, You're able to see (Ps. 119:30
Because we don't submit to the Word...we always see the word as parables. -PastorWLJ2
I will NO longer choose whats 'RIGHT;' I choose TRUTH! -opjproclamation
are you willing to be the one persecuted for being NARROW? (Matt. -PastorWLJ2
WE REPENT and WE SUBMIT!!!! -PastorWLJ2
WE don't want to be temples of Ba'al; we want to be 'BETH'EL' the place where YOU dwell. -PastorWLJ2
We lack purpose because we lack SUBMISSION to The Word! -PastorWLJ2
The Spirit of Truth is hitting your life to break the apathy and deception off of your life so you can make a decision! -PastorWLJ2
"You are a thought/purpose/intention in the mind of Yahweh .. When the "Let There Be" is declared everything you are destined to be becomes THE reality." WLJ2

Deangelo McCoyVery often a father must stop his child from going to far and making Adult decisions and actions while still operating with his Child-like mindset .. #submission

stepping back to observe various circles of insanity in my life to avoid. living in simplicity! #LessIsMore
‎...in simplicity I will live truth, BE truth, extend truth, and speak truth. -oTpj
embrace simplicity and you'll become the most complex wonder among man. -oTpj
simplicity is the sophistication and wisdom of The Eternal! -oTpj
...losing myself in the world of simplicity. -oTpj
In simplicity lie worlds of depth! -oTpj

Rebekah Dove Mon-MonMy teacher just said: "If you tell yourself the truth, you don't have to lie to other people...you only lie to people because you have lied to yourself" <-- TRUTH!

[THAT love...]

give me THAT love...
the one
mixed amid
the apothecary's ointments...
irons, metals, and polished ores...
... give me that
mystic love...that
endangered love...the kind
that i
can hide in the rich
bark of
my tree-like
soul.






©2011 -SoJourner

[short poem]

love...

the kind that commands

me to die to it.




©2011 -SoJourner

[MONOKU]

bring those evening sunsets; put them on our tongues - we'll dream.

**
there's music in my fingers, stroking the pen against the skin of paper.

 **
you were abstract; i breathed you, you're solid.

**
i'll walk the length of love; i'll chant your name; my evening love-vesper.





©2011 -SoJourner

[SEVENWORDSTORY]

there's nothing casual when you beat me.

**
we, repressed boys trying to be men.

**
gravitating toward the sophistication of noble simplicity.

 **
he gazes at her with buttered soul.

 **
silent vespers...basking in HIM...my soul.

**
i became priceless grasping: Less Is More!

**
picant brother. salsa in my hips....savory.

**
[greatest 'love' story]

she fell.
his bed, his unrevealed side.

**
sing in off-key voice to the sun.

**
you travel the distance of my moan.

**
you, upheval to a tired mind...depart!

**
love given, though i whore eagerly...Yahweh!

**
my evenings bowed...we pas de deux.

**
deep down-my soul HE put life.






©2011 -SoJourner

[#-word story] - poetic/worship concerning Yahweh...

[sevenwordstory]

...i'll feel the brush of His, His-ness!
deep in my soul; a'runnin' after You.
my soul; womb for your commands.
...when Your reason kissed my finite mind...


[sixwordstory]

came to You for complete change.
walk'd away. sin displeases. new life!
planted in Your breathing-i'll flourish!


[ninewordstory]

way down; dwn in my soul...You put You.




©2011 -SoJourner

[SIXWORDSTORIES]

in my face i see you.

**
my sum is random sex-encounters (smh).

**
sensual syllables dribble from your mouth.

**
repeated offenses...when he forgot restraint.

**
Yahweh hooked me, now i'm hooked.

**
it was imminent, our love falls...

**
ritual...me kneeling; the air; chantprayers...

**
kindled flames....evenings spent in you.

**
i've punctuated existence by short pulses.

**
i tasted sobriety. cast away crazies!

**
he dilienated some tomfoolery as rational.

**
in him i taste solid eternity.

**
wicked traveler through my intricate veins.

**
she: 'i am...' he: 'you dear.'





©2011 -SoJourner

[greatest poem #3]


NEED
and U
SUPPLY



©2011 -SoJourner

[seven-word story]

I.

envisioned you encased in my manly thigh.

II.

carrying your mitochondria, make me reproduce you...



©2011 -SoJourner

senryu


louisiana
in her hips his lips; they both
cayenne this love-stew.


©2011 -SoJourner

*This photograph inspired a series of short verses

in recognition of my cousin and her love.


[sixwordstory]

this porgy loves a jazzy bess!

**

sultry jazzsongstress met afro-masculinity - musical love.

**

chile...they unified love and war.

**

a togetherness fashioned from whittled dreams.

**

an ode, penned in silent rememberances.

**

tasted the sanctimony of his pulse.

**

whiskey dark voice sings emotional gamut.

**

spice of life traded between glances.

**

want that delicious-creole etouffe love...

**

bathed in unity; speaking yoruba plainchants.

**

in we, we taste solid eternity.

[sevenwordstory]

woman in forties wearing burnished realities...chic

[eightwordstory]

her man; mighty man...and still...her-man.

©2011-SoJourner

thoughts...

LOVE gives LAWS (BOUNDERIES) out of love (affection) to protect you. If you love LOVE then, You'll live by, and respect LAWS (BOUNDERIES) that LOVES' given because you know that LOVE gave LAWS out of love (affection) for you!

We're extemists in the worse way...
Christianity says God is a God of only Love.
Judaism says God is a God of only Law.
Yahweh God says of Himself, i'm BOTH!

Christianity seems driven toward the hereafter...
I agree with Judaism to take care of TODAY, my NOW. how can I bring my NOW into divine alignment and attain Yah's pleasure with my NOW.

TBC poem

i
do
this
in the
name
of
ancestors
not
able to
write, not
able
to distinguish
'T W I L I G H T F R O M D U S K'
in books...
i
do
this
in the
name
of
the great
invisible
Emperor of time
eternity;
temporal
and eternity...
i do
this
because

[greatest poem#2]


SIMPLICITY!



©2011

poetics!

[greatest poem#1]

LIVE
don't
ADAPT!

***
senryu

tongue-in-cheek i grasp
the spirit of words, bent on
fashioning new lives.

***
American Sentence
(1 line haiku/17 syllables)
low evening-too much to drink, random words get in the car with me...home.

***
monoku
(written as a one liner. 17 syllables Or less)

extreme cold in the woods his speech distills silence cold september.

white woman black sheets her lust on the table next to her shame.

brazen vibrant soul came-man carrying sound that we wear!





©2011 -SoJourner

TBCompleted...

detective of my soul...
hot on the trail of
a deviant, deceptive, dork....his name?
ME...
APB's out on ME since I can
remember...been working
hard to corner and catch ME...
working as an assistant to
the Holy Spirit...rippin and
running the length of
this city without walls known as Self....
its the place that ME frequents on
the daily

[Dashing] 10-31-2011

(life just aint for livin...we got purpose to accomplish. lets
get on this journey)


mad dash...
from the milestone
of 30 to the
firm arms of
eternity.
dashing madly,
aimed and totally focused...
on this
sojourner tip...
a traveler in the womb of
earth;
purpose planted in me...
solutions plastered against the walls
of me...
solving-problems
to drop
from my womb;
slip out of the belly of
my mouth
down my chin
and into the
waiting canal of this
world we live
in...
time given to purpose and
purpose only!
no more time
to waste...
precious commodity;
un-redeemable to
the foolish...this
is the house that wisdom built
and foolishness
won't
tear it down...
making that mad dash...
with
desperate, focused swag
to accomplish
my mission...
from eternity to the womb/
to the earth
and finally back into
the firm arms of infinity
this servant to the word...
dashing consisely
toward excellent completion
of the journey.

selah-


©2011 -SoJourner

[Random Sex!]

listen...
pondering the 'then' of
my days...

i am
fond of
these fleeting passions...
fond and down-right-needy
of these fly-by-night releases;
these nameless sexual
fleeces...
...its been that way...
was good to me in
my youth...
was good to me walking
the length of life
looking good and chic; rocking
my lusts.

nostalgia steps in...

i was...
i was...(shakes head)...real...
fond of
those fleeting passions...
fond and down-right-needy
of those fly-by-night releases...
those nameless sexual
fleeces...
were honey from the rock to my tongue;
a proverbial loade gun that i
russian rouletted with;
no cares...
man...so whimsical and completely
brazen...
...should have saw me;
my eyes flashing rebellion and that
'i-dont-give-a-care' look or some other choice word
would have sufficed;
i moved...i'm
talkin' 'bout moooooooooooooovvvvvved and
gliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiided through my youth
smelling myself and knowing i was the lick...
from
bed to bed...no regard for the sacredness of
covenant and connection...
just in need for that
quick release...
that, primal; base, animalistic release
with
whomever whenever however...it was whatever.

i
found myself in lust
with the random faces, never defined and clear but
always hazy....
hazy and obscure features; but their intent was
loud and clear!
wanted that good hip rockin loving...or so i called it; so i thought;
wanted that
dr. feelgood-in-the-MURN-ting glazed sexin over my tired
limbs...quicken me sensually...
stimulate my senses....feed me nothing
but carnality until flesh runs
out of my ears...
out my pores...

reality writes the script...

tired...
tired and weary...
it wasn't cute...
not even; but appalling...
down-right silly and foolish...
...even tried to justify
this search for sex outside the bounds of
matrimony...took on the
nietzschean idea that 'God is Dead...'
no need to respect that sex should stay in the bounds
of marriage and not random encounters
all in the convoluted
name of 'LOVE...'
each time i said i could
sex anyone; NOT my mate...but anyone
i wasn't intertwined with
in marriage...
tired...chile....i was tired in my bones...my
DNA, weak and fatigued...
the perusal of sexual gratification
had drained me...drained me of seed, soundness, and soul...
tired soul...
tired of the lies....
the lies i told myself that society told me...
tired....
weary...
and still incomplete...


-selah






©2011 -SoJourner

renewed eyes to see my man, ears to hear your warmth and breath in your day. <amsen17>

dark and bald morning touching leaving me breathlessoctober morning. <amsen17>

you can only run so hard from reality until she screams: 'Gotcha!' <amsen17>

man of mystery was difficult getting him to open his life. <amsen17>

failure to see purpose of charismatic escapades, now so drained. <amsen17>

'warn the townspeople the beast is lose;' when he slid between thighs and life. <amsen17>

sat in a church hallelujahs wrestling my pagan desires. <amsen17>

militant brother came with islam in each step, henna our love. <amsen17>

the padded evening scent of orange peels alone in bed silent songs. <amsen17>

he ignored me evenings spent silently asking him to walk away. <amsen17>

the painted fantasies coincide with my unspoken brown prayers. <amsen17>

in the old room she next to the fire him alone the rain falls in step. <amsen17>

haunted by the loud scent of you ignoring me. this empty farce plays. <amsen17>

in the back of a car heading toward the joy he promised fair evening. <amsen17>

took a moment to feel his hands graze what's left of my burning midnight. <amsen17>

saw my moment slip between fingers in the theatre his smile falls. <amsen17>

two thugs birthed along the dark streets saturday nights. <amsen17>

touch me in the morning eastern winds and sound walking toward us. <monostich>

wrapped that body playing stocks and bondage sexuality and fragrant beauty. <monostich>

saw the contract she made with death in the eyes of a silent evening. <monostich>

darkness settled over woman's face, bitterness whispering in her mid afternoon. <monostich>

secured in bubbles seated on a cushion of water easing away my days stress. <monostich>

musicians reached crescendo the lowering sun stained her elusive eyes. <monostich>

seeing with eyes obstructed by pale moments... <monostich>

save just a little bit of the mystery laying in a bed cold and alone. <monostich>

strumming his lower nature primal harps the footsteps of moonless faces. <monostich>

they never took her serious tv watching him pregnant nights. <monostich>

we had fun cold air seeping into dry joints eradicate loneliness. <monostich>

near the beach front assumed he would come she waits in night. #monoku

slack jawed and confused, the news of another family to her didn't sir right. #monoku

haiku

...these dry winds come

their orgiastic mouths

smiling saharan tortures.

sonku

the stalks of

gray dispersed in the

field of my/ head...a ripening

harvest of wisdom.

sanctify this sanctum in sangfroid walls and sandal-like laughter. #monoku

tanka

revive our' spirits

frm this sanctimonious

lukewarm seeping in-

to us. scrape the leaprosy

frm our migrated souls quick!

pentastich (2)

psychedelic ingestions,

my opiate to/ stave off

the rhetoric of a

bleak reality.

economic squalor...utters loudly;

a dismal penchant for

thrusting its pelvic arch

in ways that

bring men to penury.

i walk jauntily along elongated memories #sixwordstories

i am dead poet, dead to sycophantic worship; dead to monotony. #am17

I write for the audience He's assigned me to reach. #am17

 adapt to this facist, facsimile reality. #6wordstories

twittering this endless array/of synaptic impulses. #distich #couplet

sunlight and these disheiki-colors producing 1970's feelings each moment. #monoku

a tome filled with words framing new realities. #monoku

the elixr of life, is to drink my words. #ninewordstories

Foolish pride assassinates! #threewords

i carefully shine/ my vanitiies to appear/ as though im someone. #haiku #confessionsofpeople

speaking from your lower nature in hollow voices pregnant with moans. #am17

you speak hedonistic decadence with the elan of hell's finest demon prince. #VR

these words i spin from the loom of my pen; restructure realities...build pragmatic mentalities. #vr #verbalriffs

i am dead poet, dead to sycophantic worship; dead to monotony. #am17

arabic afternoons give way to nighttime deserts. #monostich

sanctify this sanctum in sangfroid walls and sandal-like laughter. #monoku

tetrastich

hasty dressing

quick! before he returns

fully clothed and ready

to cut grass.



tasted your words thoughts stalked you, burned incense monk-like room chant you as prayer. #monoku

©Studio1013 2011

came smiling executions greek-like bearing gifts of proverbial smiles #monoku

turned over in bed, turned over these aftersleep thoughts. #monoku

and my old man took on sons like lint to cashmere jackets. #monoku

watching him sow grain and barley crops mid western afternoon #monoku

corrosive words grate on callous ears now prejudice. #monoku

caught the philosophy of life washing tattered egos. #monoku

he carried lunar eclipse his thighs my sanity. perusing the letter #monoku

married my pulse if it meant catching his eyes falling skies #monoku

heavy silence raining unbuttoned pants a quick smoke. #monoku

scratching the sound of your anger cold mornings mock me. #monoku

equinox came and you solstice man my talis.Man #monoku

even as midnite set in my turgid sensuality made sense to me. #monoku

raw emotions no feelings she straddles erection of drug-induced fantasy. ride #monoku

she said: he drank himself deep into me #monoku

how constrained and good in your love . how loose and aimless when you leave. #unspokenratios

how sultry these october days . how chilled my bedtime evenings are. #unspokenratios

his ragged breath against my ear dusk runs into blue. #monoku

he would salsa the rain. #6wordstory

should gauge the response in his laughter weak knees and whatever. #monoku

and when I reached over your last sigh morning folds into night. #monoku

@paintswithwords old woman knee highs wrinkled down dusty roads once beauty queen. #monoku

nursed a healthy hatred toward the bastard who tore life from the hands of my sister, Suzanne. #miniprose

dead branch overgrown grass me gingerly walking the back of memories. #monoku

besotted young girl those pre menstrual innocent days. #monoku

wicked post summer winds his wranglers and a bottle of corona. #monoku

along divergent walkings speaking sideways to day continued celebration of natal day. #monoku

at last folding into myself bare 4am slumber perusing eyelid graffiti. #monoku

abandoned the season of reading your excuses resignation over tea. #monoku

crowded cafe him after her loaded gun the sound of desperation #monoku

I drank my way into his bed he soberly guided himself into me #monoku

familiar throbbing twilight enters deep night spewing stars in opaque #1linesenryu

rolling over your rhythmic breathing creating dance steps for me to follow. #1linesenryu

castigating each other with eyes mating ritual I sit on his couch #1linesenryu

discovered hed run away my pulse now left laying on stale soil. #1linesenryu

met this muslim man heavy rainfall heat of a silent poem #1linesenryu

light mist new morning jogger perv by joyce hanks' window #1linesenryu

his bronze contempt found between her legs her legs her legs her #1linesenryu

with him too long come down from muted orgasm homegrown taciturn manner #1linesenryu

metallic afternoo grand central traffic lone assassin picking off hours #1linesenryu

early louisiana morning hand to erection blotting out fears #1linesenryu

artic rain drawing him into me carrying his warmth all day #1linesenryu

announcing my joy $4.75 a sprig of thyme. #1linesenryu

they met in Turin, bandying secrets like spanish whores #1linesenryu

walk into the room ultimatum upon your feet #1linesenryu

glass of absinthe drowning the evening my prayers hazy #1linesenryu

backward assignations hushed whispers of autumn and I debating #1linesenryu

air high room cold and we hibernate #1linesenryu

in the clarity of early morning the Bourne Identity. #1linesenryu

collide with image of a father I been running from. #1linehaiku

staring in the mirror seeing sepia image of my ancestors. #1linehaiku

took that evening walk you chandelier of evenings ceiling. #1linehaiku

intent on moving wraith-like thru your dawns. #1linehaiku

and tonight this adult man will cuddle with the truth of 30 and weep. #1linehaiku

orrin prejean

one-line haiku in Birthdaysequence a la m.mountain

2011


played in our backyard to the eyes of clouds

still your whore still your whore

and when i was done you moved toward the road

immediate painted smile your baritonal voice through the phone

what you asked wide eyed the night blushes

cant shake the feeling that time is stalking me

you arrived dark and i lost my light

male nudity the buffer that i bounce my lust from

managed to stitch your name my labia sings

found me in dawn's lap trailing snores

brought the wind with him his slick mouth sweettalking the heavens

store in the east village perusing his glances

she came in a variety of colors came in a mesh of smells.

down by the beach, carelessness sown in the air

rich soil two pairs of feet and the silence that lingers

state your intent as you run away with my pulse

wild man naked and freely engaging in primal assignations

nights spoken on in hushed vowels wind running laps

caress my swolen feelings pregnant with blazing autumn

down the back alley of NY lone woman speaking sanskrit to unknown man

frolick along the coast of Monte Carlo

her innocent womb to be emptied 14yr old gal tearful symphony

tattered woman flailing in the windless winds redemption

tonight i am brittle memory playing craps

not really violent just intent on not being used

quick and able to claim your sperm no longer yours

corner of 10th and Ducayne my inners recieve your invasive voice

premenstral sight lone grocery shopping his name is Rahamadiy

the scent of an oh yes and myrtlelike grief

after two weeks conversation turns too casual

serial rapist of virginal thoughts she's scarred

flunky to the greedy ideas you left lodging at my house

saw him seeing me he kisses her

femininity the bright lamp dispelling masculine darkness

young man hard on each stroke the release of tears

prying life from my cold thighs August 3rd

blk brotha library central row my talisman i invoke

sleet picking up old womans' out of tune voice singing pale memories

cars ambling aimlessly the old highway languishing

in the back of a tuesday i touch him touch me we cadence

trapped in a loud life holding screams over my ears

at the stove can of campbells soup far away glances toward frozen day

he bastard me mouth spilling dirty utterances the mess of his nature

i peeled the remainder of georgian dust from my weary body

down at Fleecies toe tapping eyes walk around finally tapping him

afternoon heat to mingle with the after love heat

she wears this sarong wears this frangipani fragrance wears me

its getting worse letting him linger between thighs to tired to say no

at the register all i can think of is producing the heat that lingers

took up residence in the sepulchre of modern thought

east african man serengeti heat run your fingers thru my dark earth

her proud breasts stood firm painting my lips with wordless words

appointment on the 17th flash of unease silent prayers

in dry rain wearing wet clothes both of us out of it

watching my-ongoing-man-put up slowly his legs parting for his mouth my pain

washing the aftertaste of lonely days ring of finality around my tub

asked him to take away his not-so-clearly-defined pain

©2011-Studio1013

[Awkward] *Haibun*

from your womb
springs chrome whispers and
i sense youre movement.


...unconvinced that anything else would do, she makes her way toward his flat...down
East Breswick toward the intersection of Troller and 45th.
     Canes has that canned milk she enjoys and she gingerly picks up a box of Ghiardelli
cookies. He hadn't returned any of her phone calls since she saw him...well, actually
saw him and Ramon.
Lord knows walking into the flat of the man you were considering marrying and finding him on his back; another man; actually you're neighbor from down the hall; mounted on his phallus would be
more than enough to...well, you know. Still...


with the aplomb of fading
day; a gown of coarse stars you wear
your feet scraping melody.


tough moments, head down; trudging through the pre-winter chill. Its just freshly rained; its cold and chilly just the way she likes. She doesn't do much speaking or smiling to the passerby's; more intent on just getting to her destination.
     She looks up; facing the large, stone facade of the grayish red building.
     The tears come quickly....she's managed to walk right back to her place.



 quiet street gray skies resident chill young woman's tears congeal.






©2011-Studio1013

On my Birthday I am praying 'Yahweh, teach me 2 # my days that I might get a heart of Wisdom' Ps. 90:12 #TheWayfarer

Learning that I can't live without Yahweh God each Day & Birthday! Ps. 90:12 enjoying my Birthday w/ reverence & honor.

bathing in silence while sleeping surrounded by now #1linehaiku

rolling over to sleep accommodating evening #1linehaiku

x's parading through my mind hyacinth breezes #1linehaiku

he regarded my words whitewashed days and bleached skies #1linehaiku

my feet took me west the days descant earths counterpoint #1linehaiku

carried away my bones afterrain 4am loving #1linehaiku

his easy smile representing his goings comings #1linehaiku

you sipped from the unholy grail of my life #1linehaiku

yes they wanted convention I wanted free #1linehaiku

your words scripture i often knelt between the legs of your altar #1linehaiku

myrtle scent hides scent rotting lies sepulchre of your mouth #1linehaiku

cheap dreams on my back you pulsating taste new tears #1linehaiku

journeyman rough terrain of brittle laughter me #1linehaiku

cool evening you move in me sound of broken glass #1linehaiku

we by the bridge he speaks of fear first #1linehaiku

3am still up toilet side happy birthday #1linehaiku

lonely house cold intruding his hand #1linehaiku

cool midnight rescued woman on her knees servicing him her prayers #1linehaiku

stillborn in her arms dapper spring pivots #1linehaiku

cracked tub washing away your desire #1linehaiku

birthday dinner you late smell of whiskey and her. #1linehaiku

[a'walkin]

each day,
each hour, to minutes, to
seconds, down to
each breath intake;
each heart and
pulse beat
im
  being
      im
        born
            im
              dying, transforming and transitioning...
came into this realm;
feet hit the air
runnin.
the first cry attesting
to my life and i
was immediately heading toward
a destination.
my short moment on the stage
of the earth; the world
watching me....
this play called "Life;"
on feet, designed for walking...
Nomadic I am...
called The Wayfarer...moving daily;
mo.ment.by.mo.ment
toward the open arms of eternity...
no man's been
able to halt this old progression...no man
able to pause this primal flow...each
adam; male and female
moving...progressing...no stand-stills; even when you
stand-still...all
flowing towards the eternity
that deposited us
here for
just...a...moment.
not sad...
melancholy or e.ven. mo.rose...
determined...Determined...DETERMINED!
to play my part in excellence...
DETERMINED! to
execute my duties in itegral order.
gonna let the song of eternity
flow past the lips of my life in
everything i do.
gonna smile...those wide-opened,
split-down-the-mid.dle smiles....
gonna just BE...no
need to try...gonna just flow...
gonna live...gonna live authentically...
gonna shack up with Sobriety;
gonna bathe in Clarity
gonna take up residence in Integrity
gonna make love to Wisdom...
gonna be talk over tea to Sanity....
gonna be WHOLE...WHOOOOOOLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEE...
gonna learn the language
of this soul...gonna live wildly in structured liberty....
then gonna take my bow
at the end; and walk off stage
with Eternity.






©2011 -Studio1013

[hymku]

all men come
to them-
selves, i come
to me
prepared to
lecture
myself on
learnin'
to...just...be...




©Studio1013 #TheWayfarer

senryu

with momentary
breaks from trying so hard; i
just enjoy being.




©Studio1013 #TheWayfarer

Aphorisms VIII (20)

((VIII))

i am the expressed song of the creator; i can't be someone elses melody.

*

my daily wish is to be sober-minded and clear-sighted among the drunkards off life.

*

spent so much time speaking, thinking, believing, being the negative; lets try a new approach.

*

young demonstrator, carrier of the sacred breath and sound that is words.

*

i am nomadic. life, but a journey i'm taking.

*

existing is not my destination...

*

His divine wind sweeping over my waters (blood)...

*

over the face of my deep; time to speak some 'Let Be's'


*

general population around me, assaulted by the 'crazies'


*

sanity & sobriety; the cap on my life.


*

Some things we only 'try' when we're not aware we already are.


*


Please don't TRY to BE...you already ARE.


*

we exhaust too much time TRYING to BE; when you already ARE.


*

do yourself a favor...Let YOU just BE.












©2011

#3ournal: had the most beautiful convo w/ some opera colleagues. off to my voice lesson. this is ministry at its best!

#3ournal: woke up premature to assist a need. stretched thin bearing it with a grin. voice lesson this afternoon.

#3ournal: finally in bed. living single reruns staining the television. ears kissing the voice of contralto, K. Ferrier.

#3ournal: watching The Orphan. stomach full a la Wendys. listening to a taped lesson for this saturdays lesson.

touch of fall in the air. still reminding myself that im in my spring! a cup of green tea and beautiful sunset.

#3ournal: reminding myself im in my winter. houses blurring, in a car. I will not fall to depression!

#3ournal: weekly investments into voice lessons will pay off! small beginnings of sinus headache. im in my Spring!

[3ournal 9/29]

#3ournal:

images of trucker men, cold nights & such.
last day of the work week.
vulnerable in my nature, music playing.


#3ournal:

heading to bathe.
teal colored boxers hanging out wash that must be washed.
he lounges in bed on the phone.

[3ournal entries...]

vocal warmups, mahlerian deliciousness.
work today and intend to be nice.
can't wait for the evening teach.

-September 28-



dreaming. strange images & scenarios.
faces and words like: 'antiquain.'
the life of a seer.

-September 27-



surfacing from under sleep.
meditation to continue in the Word.
work today...thankful anyways.

-September 26-



in a fast movin car.
musing over the word that's delivering my soul.
resuming the weeks' routine.

-September 25-



pinot grigio thoughts and nancy wilson.
running into memphis blues-reunion.
antwerp, belgium sounds good.

-September 25-

[gogyokha]

endless rows
the joys of walmart
would love to find
a man...$9.99
ring him up!



you, with that
far-away look; have become
closed captioning to the
world around us
my translator.



in morning I will
pry loose floorboards of
your soul, smear
myself with your dirt
hum your primal tune.




©Studio1013/2011

[one line sentences...]

with pessimism in my mouth, stylishly wearing insecurities. #monostich

castrate wild mornings to enjoy eunuch evenings uttering soprano twilights. #monostich

you, an eddy boyant in my murky waters. #monostich

can you feel my funky sensation? #6wordstory #GwenMcCrae #1970s

seeing this world through defiant eyes. #6wordstory

isis, gowns dividing egyptian heavens. #fivewordstories

the cacophony of your mouth speaking mysteries. #sevenwordstory

[senryu]

we made love in
tanka. our limbs intertwined
we smiled haikus.


 this masoleum of
wind harboring our pulses
such is love.


sleep interrupted, bathing
the grit of weariness washed
pondering amid suds.


i will yawn songs
too ancient for the contemporary to sing
notable melodic mysteries.


finally to close my
eyes drawn into Mahler's world,
soul will rest.


 stringing ecru laughter
around our necks, offsetting
this autumnal gown we wear.


let our footsteps
mingle among the fallen
leaves of bright orangeries.


i know, yes i know you
this you painting wild,
beige mornin's cerulean.


-she thinks-

broad shoulders fillin
my area, my room door
blk man-panther, skin sings.


-she thinks-

jazz joint, upper
east 4th-smoke, vibes and
me in his sultry pore.


passionate magic
you planting kisses along
my twilight stomach.


 white porceline thigh
his lips brushes them;
she quivers, a peony.


posted myself
across the pages of
your novel...read me.



i have woken
entangled in the sheets
of Lady Wisdom's bed.



yeah, my girl
walks like spun
gold, from the womb of life.



my ears are like
cisterns, pour your words
to my depths.



 I have seen red
dawns in your skin, clapboard
thoughts hiding your intent.



and the police came
orgiastic, smiling
crucifixions and impalements.



and we with our
taupe laughter and amber
glances, live this colorful life.



after midnight pondering
rules of consecration must be
adhered to.



flaccid waters unable
to stand against your
soot-stained mind.



a life planted
in the structure of one long
alto saxophone moan.



-haiku-

silvern rain drops
accentuate the beauty
of this taupe-hued earth.



am i,
'cause you're the ordained
stutterer of day?



-voicelessons-

resurrecting this voice
belly of earth to the labia
of sky....singing.


-haiku-

wearing autumn leaves,
shall we dance the
length of sunbeams?


 night opera
his eyes playing
wagnerian orchestras.


we're eating tacets
alto moans to cole porter'd
backing...these moments.



the grit and grime of
faceless encounters, nagging
itches, please scratch them.



murdered common sense
old, warehouse; garden district...
world recovers not.



old cemeteries
you, medium man con'jrin
yesterday old love.





©Studio1013/2011

Photograph's Name: Age & Life (Troy Davis Rally)
Photograph's Birthday: 21st of September, 2011.
Photograph's D.N.A.: 35 M.M. Film, I.S.O. 100 (Un-cropped).
In Times Square at the Troy Davis Rally. A baby is introduced to my lens, as I defocus the protesting signs just enough so that you can read them but not allow them to be super-influential. The protest & the philosophy of Life comes into a core of presence as a man fights for his Life & a baby has the potentialities to greet Life and its meanings, who knows, perhaps be a part of the future that helps continue or discontinue the death penalty? As a component of being a Photographer shows LIGHT towards being a Photo-Journalist, my opinion or intellect is of no importance, therefore I let the Photograph speak.

Shaun Arts.

gogyohka
(forAge&Life)

ebb and flow of time...
with cries one has entered this
world...with tears one leaves
this world and still the pace of
life flows: what was, is, and what is will be.

©Studio1013

Photograph's Name: Aftermath 101.
Photograph's Birthday: 27th of September, 2011.
Photograph's D.N.A.: 35 M.M. Film, I.S.O.: 100.
On 125th and Broadway, a flyer of protest lives on a traffic control box. The green, the "Control" letters embedded into the traffic light box over top of the flyer are ingredients that produces the mind into wonder. Even the white lines that paint the streets run into this Photograph with no stopping. This flyer lives on that box currently, even though such a newsworthy case has dwindled down into almost zero coverage. Usually, flyers are ripped off of the poles or boxes (evidence of such can be seen with the white paper left over of previous flyers) that they once laid that back onto; however, this flyer goes untouched as we see the 27th of September evolve with its hours.

Shaun Arts.

senryu
(fortroydavis)

eyes enhanced by glass...
seeing the injustice while
others moved blindly.

tanka
(fortroydavis)

seer, saw your innocence
saw the lack of sight of the
people around you. speaking
truth-flames to the end...
and they still haven't seen.

©Studio1013

senryu


the pleasures of this
caananitish religion...
endless but deadly.

[tanka (confessionsofamasturbator)]

I.

accumulated

too many images of

livin' souls for my

pleasure...holdin' them captive

release...just one stroke away.

 II.

was it enough? to

continue gazing at these

images of sex

everywhere; NOW addicted;

constantly feeling remorse.

III.

didn't realize it

was all witchcraft...didn't know

i was holdin you

pris'ner in the recesses

of my imagination...

IV.

makin' you do the

things you'd never do in life...

countless times i raped;

and exploited you within

a mind darkened by ripe lust.

tanka

(forthesexuallyliberatedtoday)

the eyes of my face

now darkened with the soot of

sexually

depraved images used to

inspire more and more 'free' sex.

tanka

indifferent to

truth about sexuality...

thought i was grown, thought

i knew me more than the one

who created me...how wrong!

tanka

sorry i became

the cult temple sodomite

sellin' my 'wares' to

any man woman who'd take

me...thinkin' i'd find freedom...

tanka

so you sleep around?

you enjoy spreadin yo mouth

partin' yo thighs for

ev'ry false, but seemingly

free taste of 'love?' oh, how sad...

©2011 Spox