Deer Who Remembers Your License Plate

©. April 5, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

The deer in headlights

Who remembers your license plate,

Encourages you with bleats

To stop the vehicle.

Animal cruelty

Full of eulogies has weight.

The driver drives straight down the road

And a car tailgates.

Dear,

Oh, Deer.

The deer who

Remembers your

License plate.

A pulse is unchecked

From the distraction of road rage.

Blood that runs through his hollowness

Is forever lost.

Old age comes and the deer

Remembers your license plate,

Escaping the wilderness

Just to be in a cage.

Dear,

Oh, Deer.

The deer who

Remembers your

License plate.

Earned For Love

©. Apr. 4, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

What is you

Times 365

I’m not a counterfeit;

You can have a fit.

Someone must know

That courtesy is alive,

Because you do not

Have to carry the one.

The irony that

I see all 50 states,

Seeing pictures

To show us how it all looks.

Thats what friends are for,

Here like interest rates.

I’m undatable

Like my schedule is full.

Like smothered with advice

From unloved gurus,

Now, my best friend ever

Is a dating coach.

Gardyloo! You’re excited

For revenues

Like face palms

When the money gets deducted.

My heart is

My favorite muscle on me

And your heart is long overdue

Like checkouts.

The goodbyes and badbyes

Still need currency,

Removed from the crevices,

But they’re nowhere.

Tyranny is asking

For your tax dollars.

You’re not free

When there’s authority around.

Miscount money

And somebody has answers,

Figuring out

A solution to get rich.

I used to miss you

Until you mistook me.

Have it known

That I was complete while alone.

What have you earned for love

If you’re not Holy?

What have you earned for life

If you’re not living?

An Example

©. Mar. 28, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

Fatigue is visited

From a reflection in the water.

Ample room is in a bag,

Which has survival equipment.

Ambling to the lighthouse,

You can see a water tower.

This looks like a place where you can go,

But it does not exist,

You like black roses,

But you did not say you like dead flowers.

Starting fires with kindness is oldness,

But o’, if you insist.

Nobody wants to be an example.

Somebody has to be an example.

Broken promises came from the dead

And woken to provoke.

You’ve built structures that creatures

Tried to knock down, banning you from.

Humidity and humility

Is strong like a heatstroke.

You will live to see a nepotist

Who hates that you’re alive,

Live to see a communist

Knowing they have blood on their hands,

And live to influence

Despite your appearance and crash dive.

Nobody wants to be an example.

Somebody has to be an example.

Like wanting forever to take five,

Zero high-fives are here.

Tension rises and the towers are no more

Than handmade sculptures.

You hear rattling change and smell dinner,

But it’s you, they fear.

Watching onlookers hold hands

While nobody listens to you

Because some of the creatures

Are still on leashes, bewildered.

Cast the creatures out

And you still have to pray for yourself too!

Nobody wants to be an example.

Somebody has to be an example.

Hours to Summarize

©. Mar. 20. 2024. All Rights Reserved.

How I know that I’m giftable,

But considered replaceable.

I can sit down in one position

Until my buttocks hurt

And I know that each day

My property is confiscable.

If I’m to dress up, you’re going to see me

Wear a black shirt.

Sometimes, I would like to grow

An Afro, but I shave instead.

I’m not buying a wig

Or shaking a 500 pound hand.

Talks drain my energy

Like I’m punch drunk and everything’s red.

I’m bald headed and that could be

A style you don’t understand.

I think that I would like ocean blue eyes,

Even though I’m black.

My flair could be underrated

If I could buy what I want.

If the air is overrated,

I’m a pyromaniac.

I have an astigmatism

And maybe I seem nonchalant.

I prayed to God for you

As soon as possible like water,

But I wanted you purified,

As I would be purified.

Holiness would be from God

And not a man, nor a monster.

I do not need you like a song

With every language applied.

I’m starting to feel like

I do not like music every day.

The cost of beef is free in rap,

But I’ll take frozen hot wings

And rock is mocked,

So you are not hardwired for me anyway.

I should eat veggies instead of red meat

And their hues have kings.

I could be sitting on comforters

Inside of wrapping paper.

I could be sitting in indoor swing chairs

And outdoor nightmares.

Rebuking nightmares and naysayers

With eye-stares, I prefer.

I prefer fairness and promises

Oddly in rocking chairs.

I think I’m anxious at times,

Overthinking about pro-life.

I’ve watched my future and lost my childhood

And now, it’s nowness.

I’m part of the bride of Christ,

But don’t want someone like Lot’s wife.

I used to be awestruck by actors,

But this is real like stress.

Relinquish your sugar bombs

And disrupt the mainstream music.

Even couch potatoes can be successful

At what they do,

Searching for work,

Recording their voices with a profile pic,

And being rejected by thousands

Of companies they view.

I don’t have brain fog

Because I don’t have to keep up with lies,

But I do have to keep up with the lies

Of other people,

Prepared to lie on me

And wanting acceptance in disguise.

My life story can take many hours

For me to summarize.

Make The Pain Make-belief

©. Mar. 13, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

Angry like an entire country

On the terrorist watch list,

Millions of people cannot resist

To tell you how you feel.

How are you going to tell them

How they feel or if they feel

Like you felt your birthplace

And watched soldiers through two-way mirrors.

Angry like broken seashells

On a first-time vibrant nightlife,

Pulsating hearts that are too short

For brand new roller coasters,

Listening to sound mirrors,

But are teased by roller coasters.

Are you one-dimensional,

Supervised by politicians?

Make the pain make-belief.

Make my name make you peace.

Make the pain make-belief.

Make my name make you peace.

It’s a coincidence that the countries

Look like vandalism

And the delicacies are smeared,

Slit, and smoldered once again.

Opulent opinions cannot stop

Hidden tanks again.

Someone with skin and bones

Want to compromise with the devil.

Anger spares nobody like the nice guy

Ignoring your past.

You’ll find it at a whispering gallery

When the doors lock.

It’s thought to have 30-inch arms,

Waiting for the doors to lock,

But it’s permissibly invisible,

Waiting to erupt.

Make the pain make-belief.

Make my name make you peace.

Make the pain make-belief.

Make my name make you peace.

Show them how much anger

That you have stored up that’s make-belief.

Tame the madmen with shackles

And the millions share blank stares?

Your teeth are held captive

Trying to be like them, then there’s stares.

You’re angry because they’re angry,

Therefore your blood is pumping.

You’ve heard soldiers stomping on their heads

And they want you silent,

But before your demise,

Will you have a high pain tolerance?

Leave them with a make-belief pain

If it means their tolerance.

You can’t help everyone

Because someone’s trying to harm you.

Pillaging Palestine

©. Mar. 4, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

What I’m trying to understand

About the Israel-Hamas war

Is why are they fighting over East Jerusalem?

East Jerusalem

Is supposedly sacred

To Christians, Muslims, and Jews.

Palestinians want East Jerusalem

To be the capital of

Their state.

Israel wants Jerusalem

As the capital,

But are victims on the news.

The oohs and aahs parade around

Bloody handcuffs

Tightened enough for boo-boos.

I was born a pacifist

With a passion

That won’t attack the innocent.

That includes the innocent children

In Israel,

Where they love the Holy Land.

The U.S. provides billions

In military aid

To Israel every year.

A capital is a title

That you are willing

To end your life over?

I don’t care if you’re

From the East or West;

Prove to me that you’re Holy people.

By your fruits, you’re going North or South,

But the devils

Continue throwing stones.

I don’t think you come in peace,

But broken pieces

To claim that we’re unequal.

Children should listen

To their parents for wisdom,

But if their parents hate God,

They should listen to God,

Though there’s many people

That will say that they’re chosen.

They get older and married,

Then the wife submits to the husband

Out of love.

She’s not struck in the ear

While using q-tips

Because they’re whole and born again.

While you want to do nothing,

They’re pillaging Palestine.

While you want to do nothing,

They’re pillaging Palestine.

Your silence could be

A way of saying

“Pray for me” and I will pray for you.

Have mercy on you

And have mercy on the ones

Under hermetic closure,

Lacking access to medical supplies,

And food and water,

But do you care?

They receive electricity

Periodically and there,

Things differ.

I know you can’t fathom

How it feels to be under

A 16 year blockade,

Prior to the expanded siege,

But say something

Before it happens to you.

Say something now

Before your loved ones lose fuel

And the troops refuse to cease-fire.

Say something

And they’re ready to hunt you,

But say something against the worldview

If it means to say what is right

Because where you roam

Should not be restricted.

What if your children was bombed

For ethnic cleansing

And Americans cheered it?

Israel intentionally starved Gaza;

Homelessness does not

Have to proceed

Because a life outside of Israel

Does not seem too bad,

But a good habit.

Try to take action with love

And love is missing in action

Until you rise.

Jihad is concerning

Like the buildings are burning

And humans are slaughtered.

When you find food to consume,

The troops will shoot you,

And the crowd will trample you.

Let’s live by the world’s standards

And just smile today

Because who could be bothered?

While you want to do nothing,

They’re pillaging Palestine.

While you want to do nothing,

They’re pillaging Palestine.

Before You Fall Asleep To This Poem

©. Mar. 3, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

Marinate my mouth with wet words

That’s dreamt of.

You can blow me off,

Then you can blow me up.

Blow me further

Than the windswept birds in love

For I’m a light sleeper,

Hearing things afar.

I’ve blocked my mother

On social media

And I feel like my best friend’s

A storm chaser,

Reporting the breaking news

In India

When I was watching

Overnight finales.

Before you fall asleep to this poem,

You don’t have to care about this poem.

“Do tornadoes ever hit

The news network?”

Why are news reporters

Outside on TV

During tornado warnings,

When jobs, I’d shirk?

Dear news reporters,

Your jobs will replace you.

Confined in my home,

I’ll find my sustenance,

Reading about coupes,

But cannot afford one.

Like browsing the internet

With zero cents.

I used up all

Of my digital money.

Before you fall asleep to this poem,

You don’t have to care about this poem.

I’m the happiest owner

Of diddly-squat.

I land a job

And someone inboxes me,

Wanting to know everything

As if I’m hot,

Confused as if there’s foot washing

In heaven.

She insists to exchange

Cell phone numbers.

This task did not take

A rocket scientist.

I could spend days not enjoying

My slumbers,

Waking up at 2:00 A.M.

To text my love.

Before you fall asleep to this poem,

You don’t have to care about this poem.

Before you air kiss me,

I think you should know

That my gums bleed

Whenever I brush my teeth.

Hey, you can call me

Before it’s time to go.

I like texting too,

But can video chat.

My dad thinks

I should join the military,

But brought up

How soldiers are getting gunned down.

How’s it on your rooftop deck

In Missouri?

If you’re a cheater,

Save me the misery.

Before you fall asleep to this poem,

You don’t have to care about this poem.

You could even be

A serial killer

But your prayers could take me

Out of hospice.

Thank you for understanding

I’m a healer.

I’m not dying,

But you take my breath away.

You’re a model,

Helping me study for school,

Working hard

To get my Bachelor’s Degree.

I’m a working progress,

Strong like a footstool,

I have

An undergraduate accomplishment.

Before you fall asleep to this poem,

You don’t have to care about this poem.

Why are you asking me

For money today?

Do you still want to talk

Over the cell phone?

You’re a hairy catfish

Waiting to betray

Like you have bail money

And don’t release me.

I’m self-destructing

Before the tornado

Arrives at

The predicted destination.

All you can think about

Is money, so go.

My halo will not go

All thanks to the earth.

Before you fall asleep to this poem,

You don’t have to care about this poem.

I’m not exalted

On your things to-do list,

But you should know,

I was invigorated.

The facade you wear

Is what makes you dismissed,

You don’t exist

And I try to undo you

From the hours that were once ours

Full of Ahas,

When I would drag the sunset

With my bare hands

For a passion that I felt

Has a good cause.

You stimulated

My interest before.

Before you fall asleep to this poem,

You don’t have to care about this poem.

Better than dying

Surrounded by women,

You’re asking for money

That’s in smithereens.

All I have to do

Is leave my heart open.

I guess the news lied

About the tornado.

Like my kingdom partner’s

In a tornado

In another state,

I’ve wasted time on you.

You’ve snatched the typos

Out of my thoughts that grow.

Guess who does not care

Who is a nervous wreck?

Look Book Pic

©. Feb 27, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

Title: Look Book Pic

Medium: Acrylic on Wood Panel

Size: 18” X 18”

Date: 2/26/24

A poem is painted on the back:

A lover’s loophole finds

The brevity of tolerance.

Vales and valleys are photographed

Mostly when she’s on them.

Gales are blowing the rustling leaves,

Lulling the lightning.

Glimpses at her should make soldiers sodden,

But they’re fighting.

Someone is trimming their nose hairs for her

Like she’s bathing

In myths made out of liquid sugar

And lesser-known love.

Desensitized to the wars

That burn the look books, there’s kings

Like they dig in her pockets

To coin the word safekeepings.

References to sketch her are not enough

To perfect.

How many artists draw and paint her

To attract her?

How many poets amuse her

Like life on sofa beds.

How much further can she tread,

Hanging onto lifelong threads?

Her eyes say her favorite vegetables

Are onions,

But her mouth says they’re golden beets,

As they can taste her scent.

Her heart is like scrambled eggs

And her brain is overcooked.

She memorizes cook books

And her stay is overbooked.

The sky is ruddy and unwanted by all,

Except her.

She’s perceived like a high performance tool

Used frequently

And watched like cities dance

On her plastinated organs.

The fall of man sees the rise of man

And abundant plans.

Sun-kissed Sugar Revamped Version

©. Feb. 20, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

Title: Sun-kissed Sugar

Medium: Acrylic on wood print

Size:18” X 18” 

Date: 5/22/22-2/19/24

I decided to paint the poem on the back of the wood panel.

Poem:

What if I told you that 

“I love you at

Mutual degrees Celsius,” 

But I befriended

Hesitation to avoid

Rejection from my love? 

You were perfection with good grace,

Ingrained in my mind,

Then I found Jesus. 

The woman I’d have children with, 

Far away has friends

And a lack thereof. 

Sun-kissed sugar. 

Sun-kissed sugar. 

The pocket door to everything more, 

We lack adventures,

But have progress. 

We had belated blessings, 

Then they came early,

Fulfilling our households. 

I can seep my hugs in your skin

And live within,

But how can I express? 

Loved more than

An entourage of reverence,

You’ll see how my life unfolds. 

Sun-kissed sugar. 

Sun-kissed sugar. 

How you include me in your day,

I can’t seem to 

Get over chapter you, 

With full-flavored lips

Having an aroma,

I can only imagine. 

Skin as real as silica sand, 

You vanish in my dreams,

But look brand new. 

Wherein will we meet, greet, and treat,

Loving more than kissing kin

Without sin. 

Sun-kissed sugar. 

Sun-kissed sugar. 

Wanting more than

Amorous advances,

We’ll both receive the Crown of Life. 

Would heirlooms fall

From the heavens for us to cherish

Or must we work hard?

Prosperity isn’t a necessity 

For my love to be

My wife. 

The ounces your hyped heart weighs 

Are the seconds it takes to

Take my bank card. 

Sun-kissed sugar. 

Sun-kissed sugar. 

Sleep and Salaries

©. Feb 15, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

By the time I turn ageless,

I want to be a best-selling novelist

And a renown poet.

I’ll use 100% of my brain

Instead of just the right or left side

Out of hesitance.

The stories that I tell

Can feel like polygraph tests

With an authentic source of euphony.

My posture will tell you that

I can articulate every word

In the English dictionary.

Fans will thank my innovation,

Unlike 5-star libraries

That never respond to my emails.

I will be cheered for my dialogues

And sentence fluency

And my autographs will be worth homes,

But I will not sell my soul,

And I will worship the mediator

Between the Father and men,

Dog-tired, harnessing your happiness

Until your eyes are the color of grape sugar

That’s a ten.

My writing will have the bone-chilling longevity

Of wedging your foot

Into relationships.

Wedge your will into relationships

And do you mean that it is

A legal will or a free will?

You could not like me any more than you do,

Then there is the concept of love,

Tickling the ears.

Wait until you find out that I bulked up

On the words that you put into my mouth

For ageless years.

I’ve lost sleep and salaries.

I’ve lost friends and families,

Writing for my endless dreams.

I bulked up on sincerity

Like the equivalent

Of running out of bleached toilet paper.

Worrying will be eradicable,

Even if you have an undershot jaw

Because you’re you.

Talk me into an ice cream headache

And tell me that I’m supposed to utter

That it’s a brain freeze.

Succumb to tuberculosis

And I don’t need the king’s evil

Because I have the Lord who sees.

While I’m writing, you could be glowering at me

While gloating, across the globe

Like sold out tickets.

I am not a loquacious man

Using who and whom verbally

While reading kiss-and-tell novels.

Forgive me if I do not write

Like the doting work wives

That are wearing the face of kumbaya.

What if I talk like coming-of-age stories

With cars running in garages

Because of the law?

I was told that you’re supposed to write

The way you speak

And thinking too long about a subject shows.

I convince myself that the rich buy vowels

Like buy one, get one free,

Restricting the ways you speak.

Graphite colors my writing hands,

Which are dirty fingernails and when I type,

There’s autocorrect.

I do not request speech-to-text

Because AI may even

Try to remember my dialect.

I’ve lost sleep and salaries.

I’ve lost friends and families,

Writing for my endless dreams.

Before we start a buddy system,

I have some reasons

Why you may want to reconsider it.

I am not an award-winning actor,

But may know about psychology

A little bit.

Because psychology can help

With character development,

Remind me what I’m fluent in.

I know English, but my love language

Is words of affirmation,

So let the studying begin.

My writing could be like a people person

That is not a people pleaser,

But I’m improving

Like I’m giving my main characters

Catchy nicknames

And reexploring my versatility.

Writer’s block is like oxymorons

To geniuses and suspects

To citizen informants.

I put the cure in curiosity

And response in responsibility

For zero chants.

My notes entail police officers commandeering

Your car and fining you

If you dare refuse.

And skateboarders hating scooters riders

And every death-defying trick they do

Is made fun of.

Breakfast smell like crayons

Because I breathe art

Until I realize that countless contests are rigged.

My faith is bigger than my failures

Like hugs during mid-sentences,

Realizing when clothes are sprigged.

I’ve lost sleep and salaries.

I’ve lost friends and families,

Writing for my endless dreams.