Hero In and Out

© July 25, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

If I was a hero, I’d penalize cops times three
For their lawbreaking habits and tactics they stand for.
If I was a hero, I’d buy every company
Ending black markets like a tumbling drug store.
If I was a hero, victims would get bodyguards
Free of charge and black tombs galore wouldn’t disappear.
If I was a hero, I’d show love like greeting cards,
Seeing eye-to-eye, making those smile from ear-to-ear.

No! I’m not a hero!
No! I’m not a hero!

If I was a hero, I’d cure mental disorders
With one pill taken once unlike black words of wisdom.
If I was a hero, there’d be no cash like hoarders
For we’d share our treasures to overcome the system.
If I was a hero, I’d donate both kidneys,
Yet still have the energy to be a good parent.
If I was a hero, I’d donate great memories
With wisdom to push beyond their limits and invent.

No! I’m not a hero!
No! I’m not a hero!

If I was a hero, I’d make everyone find love,
Then swiftly unpopularize being popular
If I was a hero, I’d protect them from above
Retouching on their lives for an eternal answer.
If I was a hero, I’d invent a time machine,
To alleviate the masses as smooth as dreams.
If I was a hero, I’d wake up to find my queen,
Like I’m a human being with a thousand bloodstreams.

No! I’m not a hero!
No! I’m not a hero!

All for Petunia

© July 25, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

Dear Petunia,

Mustn’t I not bleed
Sulfuric acid,
For I have no heart
If I have no you.
Could you be the
Ammonia I forbid?
Or the oxygen,
Which will continue.
Unlike the next
Compared to forever.
Such a gem could get
Stolen or worse—lost,
But we mustn’t meet
No matter the cost.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Admirer

Dear Petunia,

To make you enriched like
Alchemy queens
Isn’t more than the
Lionized beasts,
Preying on low self-esteem
Like achenes
Southeast with goldmines,
Which never ceases.
Own my possessions;
I don’t need myself.
Unamused to be used
Without my wealth,
For without your breaths,
Then I have no health.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Admirer

Flecks from a Whitebread

© July 25, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

With flecks of ivory on pale
Flesh,
She threshes her peachy lips to
Walls
Wearing a cream dress, yet simply
Fresh.
A beige couch is mostly where she
Scrawls.

Off-white walls share lipstick like
Tattoos.
Her bruises sink to her touchy
Heart,
Then she slips on fresh, white
Tennis shoes,
Painting a little white lie of
Art.

Her canvas has no glow nor a
Hue.
With a colorless handle
Unused,
Her cheeks turn baby pink, then
Baby blue.
Like a baptized face, which is
Abused.

The shade is grey outside and
Within.
Cloudless silver is a wedding
Ring.
A cotton pillow hugs her
Lynchpin,
Which is milk-white for the bright
Right wing.

On the moon-white granite
Countertop,
There’s American pie taunting
Her.
Melancholy serves her till
“Chop-chop!”
Golly! She then pukes a
Racial slur.

She mixes white sugar with her
Pie,
Licking like gallows filled the
Kitchen.
Enlightened by love, it keeps her
Eye
Till she wobbles into a
Trash bin.

Cauliflower scatters; then, she
Sweeps.
Thus, her onion eyes spots a
Neighbor.
With caramelized nipples, she
Upkeeps,
With a vanilla life through
Labor.

Lady Finger bananas are
Peeled
Like wrinkles and she has a
Green thumb.
Leal companions are fairly
Revealed,
For who she loves shall not make her

The Hollow Battleship

© July 24, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

Overwrought, gloat over my ashes
With a bouquet of superseded roses.
Submerge me with tears toward the faces
Of weathervanes, lip-locking ramoses.

May this eulogy flay your undulating heart
Like sharks, grazing divided lips.
Seeds float to forelands till eyes depart,
But nobody swims off hollow battleships.

They Said He Was…

© July 24, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

They said he escaped ten prisons and survived twelve electric chairs.
They said he was buried in a straight-jacket and cremated twice.
They said he yanked out his burgundy hair and robbed burning daycares.
They said he held living organisms hostage and fed them ice.

They said he was unflustered by syringes and drank his own blood.
They said he walked to bikers on shackles and had bad vendettas.
They said he bathed in expensive spirits and guzzled down a flood.
They said he was born with no excreta and snatched nepetas.

They said he was a pedophile for smiling and being thankful.
They said he was a soft-hearted boy and they said he had no heart.
They said he was a boy for loving, then for rejecting his skull.
They said he was brain-dead with a deformed heart and that he’ll depart.

They said he was a disabled loner and he learned to progress.
They said he had no mate and he had an imaginary friend.
They said he was narcissistic and there’s nobody to impress.
They said he was a boy, but that boy’s a human being till the end.

Unpromised Soul Kiss

© July 24, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

On a hammock like the crescent moon,
She slumbers while a million stars swoon.

Heedful of her plumbless sympathy,
I uplift her heart wholeheartedly.

Thereby, the clouds appear transparent,
Where this dyad eyes every event.

Love an unloved lover above seas.
Here’s why we should rid our memories.

The constellations are stalking us
And clouds for a passionate purpose.

I’ll slumber, then drown myself beneath,
Awaking with my throat on a sheath.

Of sun-kissed skin, my eyes unpromised
By your undulating heart soul kissed.

Nonesuch Delight

© July 24, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

I’m not good.
I’m not good enough.
I’m not good enough.
I’m not good enough.

Incapacitated, I’m touched
By nonesuch beauty, so unclutched.
Much, I’ve been confined in a hutch,
Where I’ve reread and spoken Dutch.

Words unsaid are useless when dead.
I’ve shed blood from my eyes, widespread
Till I can get French bread like men,
But women are trophies like skin.

Must I sin? Men do what women love,
So acceptance differs above.
I flee to grip pillows at night
Till my breathing blocks my eyesight.

Rights are downright rites like birthright,
Despite sound bites for the Twelfth Night.
Gesundheit! I never backbite.
All right, I’m awake. The night’s bright.

Delighted to be under the moonlight,
My airtight lungs weeps like hindsight,
Holding on tight like serenades,
Then, my mind has gunfights, betrayed.

I’m not good.
I’m not good enough.
I’m not good enough.
I’m not good enough.

Terra Firma Varmints

© July 24, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

On the verge of converging views,
Once half-burnt like my revenue.
Concupiscent eyes like gumshoes,
Step on sights like bijou voodoo.

Schizophrenic eyes watch us two,
Well-known like news propaganda.
Mañana is long overdue,
See-through like every hosanna.

I’m the last on the cabana,
Guzzling gelato nadir,
Reaching the state of nirvana,
But every creature is a blur.

When every stare joins a, “Thank you,”
Every stay lasts like quicksand.
Every giggle joins an, “Adieu”
Like rumors I can’t understand.

The Centered Psalms

© July 24, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

Fathomless qualms from eyes to palms,
Onion haulms picked while reading Psalms,
Calm birds embalmed, then so I say,
“Firmaments are turning away.”

I’m here to stay like yesterday.
Worthier than a resume,
Washing away trauma with Psalms,
But today flipped with many qualms.

Tides are shaking; eyes are waking.
Grounds are gaping; frowns are breaking.
Towns are faking; sounds are louder.
Somehow, the devil is prouder.

Pages flip in burgundy gales,
Ripping as if though their folktales.
Prophecy answers. I’m distraught.
The spiritual battle is fought.

Fortified fortresses are constructed
For castles; Earth’s so corrupted.
Stalkers bombard while skeptics laugh.
The poor’s dying for what they have.

Mislead and frame, but I remain.
I strive to stand for Him with gain,
But know there’s rainstorms and hailstorms.
Tribulations fade. Time conforms.

Lichen Likely Loves

© July 24, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

Lichen befriends thy cabin,
But thy aged cabin lours
With black bayonets within.
Stolid owls sit for hours.
Behold! Þeir, remain yonder
On limitless boughs galore.
Cloud-like smog enshrouds a ponder
Unto mine scars, then thine pour.

Fratricidal townspeople!
Thou hinder thy troth, then run,
However, thou art equal
Returning shunned and undone.
Of solely thou, beseech time,
For thy hour glass is wine.
Thy outermost love in prime
Is profoundly malign.

Famished for thy appearance,
O’re venomadefied lips,
Hath I longed for persistence?
Dost thy path form an eclipse?
How I dwell in thy presence
Beside thy esculent heart.
Mine limpid tears turn immense
Like cataracts, which won’t depart.