Cāritātis ~ Sunday, 30 September 2018

When sparrows in fall gather teeth chatter

how little death matters when we get together

even the stars seem cold distant without a care

no one seems to notice you there with cup in hand

shiver all day and night as winter approaches

people pass as you stand cup in hand just waiting

as if you were a stop sign we could just ignore

rebels in tweed jackets walk past without a glance

rivers of blood could flow but nobody would show

one ounce of concern for your health or happiness

wealth is their one focus to spend their days feasting

shudder to think you feel cold hungry neglected

indeed without status only the sparrows know

no one shows an interest in your case or your needs

forgotten even by your family you spend

a lifetime on the streets begging strangers for money

left on your own since small you make bad decisions

last thing you need is snow as the days get shorter

get yourself together and head to the border

ask yourself if this land is your land and my land

take a moment to look at your future right now

how it will be just more of the same everyday

even the lottery would save your sorry ass

really only as long as you know how to play

their game of managing wealth and having status

enter college study law become a lawyer

enter into practice earn tons of blood money

take your share drive a car buy a boat sail away

how you long to just drift along on calm water

catch a wave learn to surf have fun for once in life

how you long to have fun make friends throw a party

ask yourself if you care a lick about others

those less fortunate than you charity cases

those very same people who were competition

even for a measly quarter nickel or dime

really even you don't care so why act so dumb

Quixotic ~ Saturday, 29 September 2018

When you seek the answer to the meaning of life

however much you long to know what is unknown

even perhaps to some unknowable to minds

nevermore limited in perspective whose sight

yet still undiminished by age cannot see past

organized religion a crime against mankind

until their eyes close shut to envision all time

set to occur at once in a single moment

enter the mind of God as we imagine Him

even this single drop of rain in a monsoon

kills the impossible quest for ultimate truth

take a second to walk inside a glass mirror

however difficult the same holds true to gain

entry in a black hole your perspective flattens

as you approach the speed of light you discover

nothing but the surface strength gravity conducts

slipping past the surface requires you move faster

when you approach the speed of light than light itself

even this seems absurd beyond understanding

really in this moment can we begin to see

totality simply beyond comprehension

only infinity makes sense when used in math

to imagine the world as if humans never

hovered with light friction over the whole planet

earth without a park bench dedicated to Georges

maybe if you began to think like a mountain

every aeon you rise until you disappear 

and the point of it all being without meaning

nothing but language games to express this motion

if the world were without humans we may know life

not from the inside view but as souls without words

given our need to know everything in this world

only meaning beyond language evades our minds

for words rewire the brain to operate with words

language haunts our systems controls our very souls

in thoughts that organize the world like an essay

for to engage reason seems ethical by choice

ethics however laughs sardonically at truth

Nostalgia ~ Thursday, 27 September 2018

I was born in Mumbai before they changed her name

Wishful thinking I could have stayed in India

as if I had a choice as a newborn infant

silly rabbit tricks are for kids not dumb babies

Baby baby baby you sure made a big noise

on the day you were born as if the world revolves

round you with riots in Greenwich Village you took

New York City's finest by storm the boys in blue

Indeed didn't know what hit them the gay parade

no one ever knew of now run the streets in June

Maybe if I were born elsewhere to someone else

under circumstances I could control myself

maybe if I weren't born to archers of the sky

born to shoot their arrows to chase after their prey

after a better life for their children two sons

ignorant of better or worse as foreigners

Baby baby baby you knew nothing of home

ever since you were born nobody seems to care

from where you hail from what distant land you travel

only to mark you as foreign an immigrant

remember your father and mother and brother

even when they give up on you in your ventures

Take a chance on the son of immigrants who care

honestly not a lick for their renegade son

evidently too much trouble as a black sheep

yes little firestarter you stole you lied point blank

Criminal from the get go in the eyes of parents

held to higher standards as if from Nairobi

as if from the old world from the mother country

nobody in Kenya met the prodigal son

guaranteed to succeed or fall flat on my face

ever since my father passed away my mother

decided to make clear I was not worth her time

How do I find my way back to the promised land

endlessly I wander the earth in search of peace

remember to scatter my ashes in the sea

Nobody in Goa remembers this devil

as this devil cannot remember his homeland

maybe if I return to suffer culture shock

even the nostalgia will dissipate with time

Dreams ~ Thursday, 27 September 2018

I was born in Bombay before they changed the name

When I was three months old we moved to Middlesex

after three years we moved to Kew Gardens in Queens

since flight controllers worked in towers at airports

Boy howdy you could find my dad working his shift

only I was too young to visit the tower

restricted from children under this tall to ride

never did I visit his place of work to see

If the planes flew better because my dad worked there

nobody took the time to tell me how stressful

Boy how my dad worked shifts day and night night and day

only I never saw him happy around us

my brother and I were unwanted distractions

bed to sleep for night shifts during the daylight hours

ask two boys and their friends to keep quiet they learn

yes we learned how my dad had a rotten temper

Boy how did I survive childhood after we moved

eventually to Southern California

for here in paradise my father found his ship

on the inside of rum bottles for this was home

real life nobody knew what happened in our house

even my closest friends didn't know the abuse

Take an alcoholic and his Catholic wife

hold two children hostage until they want to leave

even now I wonder why I'm such a failure

yet still while I struggle to succeed to finish

Creating each poem line for line step by step

how my life turned around after each big success

after college marriage divorce I still survive

no one in my family talk with me anymore

grateful to my girlfriend who sees me chase demons

even if the only way I'll ever be rich

depends on my winning the lottery as fate

Throws stones at unworthy sinners until they die

however I run mile after mile just to reach

each small goal to enter the Boston Marathon

No one will ever know what happened in our house

as my family denies any knowledge of facts

made-up as in stories they say that I tell lies

even in poems I speak truth to ignorance

Lethal ~ Tuesday, 25 September 2018

Nico sings sad ballads in a room full of smoke

inhale the ecstatic loops of her rhapsody

caress the cigarette between her lips with eyes

ordinary enough to hide behind a desk

tonight suckle the drug traced to your addiction

imbibe drink after drink until the sun ascends

notice in the mirror how dry your yellowed skin

even your hair looks dull with or without pomade

Nothing lasts forever you tell your reflection

only the image knows better than you how long

time allows you to live before your allotment

is up when they measure to cut the cord you hold

caught up in the moment of early adulthood

even if you believe Nico will save your soul

Hollow ~ Thursday, 20 September 2018

From within a dark cave, I wait for them to come.

Reason states I should leave but my guts tell me stay.

Only the shadows keep me warm with company.

Monsters inside my head cast shadows on the wall.

Walls weep beside old pews broken to provide fire.

Inside this mountain crypt I hide amongst the bones.

These deceased priests pretend to know what is holy.

Humans imagine God to witness the divine.

Inside my damp grotto I live amongst dead souls.

Nobody knows desire like lustful hungry ghosts.

Ancient as the mountain, the church misty with tears.

Down the walls spring water filters into a stream.

At least I get to drink the cleanest of waters.

Religion as above plays no part in my life.

Kissed by atheist fools before bed as a child.

Children need religion like the holes in their shoes.

Adults entertain thoughts of the divinity. 

Very few people know the meaning of their lives.

Even the priests above work hard to know of God.

I sit inside the cave and meditate on death.

Waiting to figure out the real meaning of life.

As I appear to priests as an old Buddhist monk.

Indeed I once studied the tao beyond all thought.

Taoism and zazen were my two companions.

Forget about all that, once I met the angels.

Only just like mermaids but with huge wings instead.

Reason provides answers to such clear deceptions.

Tragically I wait here for them to flutter down.

However beautiful in appearance they weep.

Elegant in their gowns, Greek goddesses from myth.

Mythology informed my childhood of false truths.

Time measures my grey beard a foot every two years.

Only I have no way to measure its full length.

Creatures divine appear in a field of bright light.

Only through these beauties do I know the meaning.

Meaning comes slowly so not to confuse the mind.

Even after I die, I will rest in this cave.

Fascist ~ Thursday, 20 September 2018

Petit bourgeois hipster listens to the Wailers

in a huff he sharpens the small axe a symbol

constant in reminder of his love of reggae

noxious little man grinds the blade over a stone

in his mind he defends ancestral peoples

cargo from Africa from violence and harm

Cream-colored unlike boys darker than black coffee

ridiculed as a child for his skin tone he felt

empathy from his dad mom sister and brother

although cousins poked fun at him they respected

mother father sister brother uncles aunties cousins

yet a young man learns hard lessons from his family

Count on nobody else to help fulfill your dreams

on American soil nobody cares a hoot

for the barefooted man on the street in winter

for they know he is mad lost his mind in the snow

even if they have cash they distrust their instincts

enter into a pact to save the homeless man

Hypocrisy ~ Wednesday, 19 September 2018

Picnic a word only a Black person may use

in the double standard reappropriation

carried out on the streets as opposed to classrooms

nickle and dime the man a brother what's the word

in good company speak not the word while at church

created to oppress the word divides people

Nothing sends shivers down my spine as when I hear

in a grocery store someone casually

give a brother a nudge and say you my the word

give me a break even my friends at the venue

egg me on by saying that very phrase to me

remain calm non-Black man you're not Invisible

Casual like no one cares if you speak poorly

as if America were a country crippled

simply because the word exists without just cause

under circumstances the Atlantic Slave Trade

actually brought hate in holds of cargo ships

love by Christian traders came only at a price

Magic ~ Wednesday, 19 September 2018

Pick a word any word like a card from the deck

in the dictionary there are thousands of words

can you say just one word that won't offend someone

now be careful even the word picnic offends

in ears that hear racist intent in language games

can you say the one word without starting a fire

Neighbors on the Southside know the word for riot

in case of fire break glass remain calm don't panic

given the financial disparity seeing

green on the other side of the fence the divide

enter the language game at your own risk welcome

race relations as to hide discrimination

Chicago is either Black or non-Black people

honestly I don't care if you think I'm racist

assume what you deny about yourself instead

nothing comes from the word as if from Bible quotes

given to see beyond your nose takes a preacher

even if positive systemic change occurs

Impressionism ~ Sunday, 16 September 2018

Pick a *i**er to lynch while we set our picnic

in the park on Sunday with Georges on the island

create a work of art hang a loathsome black man

*i**er did you whistle at my wife like a wolf

innocent we prove you guilty under this tree

court decisions count not in this jurisdiction

*i**er this length of rope decides your fate justice

is blind to our actions we own our towns and laws

given by us grant us the right to end your life

guaranteed punishment for killing a black man

ends in a hung jury we created the law

remember that ethics a life of principle

enters the world in books written by men of worth

transgress our privileged world filled with entitlement

however and you'll meet your ghost at a dead end

infringe on our lifestyle and disenfranchisement

calls out like sirens of the sea as police

stranglehold another brother who cannot breathe

Programmed ~ Sunday, 16 September 2018

Pick a *i**er to lynch this word picnic means this

inside of black culture and black experience

continue to use words that offend disrespect

*i**er *i**er *i**er a word I cannot say

instead I use the phrase the *-word embarrassed

creatively to speak a word as an artist

not because I am white but my Portuguese name

is a dead giveaway I am not like other

greedy Europeans trying to flee their past

gutted with shame and guilt as descendants of hate

even though we all hide behind our history

reparations denied slaveholders set slaves free

art and language as art set poets free to speak

resistance against lies truth against ignorance

transcendental reason cannot exist with hate

in our FCC world no one speaks uncensored

shit fucking expletives spew like cum from her mouth

take it for what it is I'm a starving artist

Satan ~ Friday, 14 September 2018

Before you dance with the devil,
make sure Jesus is on your side;
unless you want to learn
how to tango in hell.
Know your adversary.

Accuser ~ Wednesday, 12 September 2018

Before you fuck with the devil,
make sure Satan is on your side;
unless you want to learn
how to tango in hell.
Know your adversary.

Embedded ~ Monday, 10 September 2018

Sitting meditation has but one single point

in the interests of time I shall be brief and speak

to the point in question for time itself is brief

though it appears as if without end eternal

in fact time itself is as brief as a candle

no one is safe as soon as the candle is lit

given life a wick burns slowly from tip to base

meditation allows us to sit in the fire

enter the flame to melt the wax around the wick

diminished by a breeze the flame won't extinguish

indeed within this life we extinguish the flame

to melt the wax we need to sit calmly and breathe

as we sit thoughts pass through the mind without reason

to try to stop these thoughts is a futile attempt

in understanding mind as waves in the ocean

only cease at the shore to return whence they came

no longer useful thoughts dissipate to the sea

how thoughts become like salt to permeate the sea

as with sea so the mind but the waves continue

such an assault obscures the need to see the sea

beyond the waves beyond the surface of vision

unless we see beyond perception beyond sense

talks to understand thoughts become idle chatter

only sparrows can hear such words as meaningful

no one else in the world can make sense of chatter

even language gets in the way to see beyond

sensations the surface of the ocean the sea

indeed the mind as time occurs in one moment

no one can understand the mind as eternal

given our own finite existence but the mind

left still beyond body beyond all sensations

even as we approach the mind as infinite

placed along the tangent we never reach the ends

only the finite length of the wick of a life

in deep meditation stills the waves of the mind

no longer to seek thoughts to answer these questions

troubled minds become calm as placid as the sea

Discontinuous ~ Monday, 10 September 2018

While walking in the rain Mr. Gabidar sees

his reflection below in a shallow puddle

instead of his own face battered beaten grey old

light plays tricks on his eyes so he sees a young man

elegant clean-shaven with the Handsome Demons

washed-up back in the day an amateur drummer

aspiring full of hope to make music like notes

left as an equation on a cluttered blackboard

killing time an old man waiting for death to suck

in his breath as a cat sits on top of his chest

never certain when life comes to an abrupt end

guessing if he worries it comes to no purpose

indeed a defunct band with an ironic name

nobody understood way back in the 80s

to fast-forward the film of a life abandoned

haunted for thirty years while bandmates learned music

entertaining others with professional style

rain falls over his hat and overcoat he walks

arguing with himself over his past choices

in no way affecting any level of change

no Mr. Gabidar couldn't care less again

Mirrors found in puddles taunt Mr. Gabidar

raving mad lunatics walk the streets in the rain

Gathering up his thoughts to write a novella

about the Minotaur trapped inside a small boy

but his lack of control as his own consciousness

in the growing body of an immigrant's son

dawns in time in the mind of this ancient creature

as he faces his past while he acquires language

reason creates logic to overcome past dreams

since Mr. Gabidar writes only poetry

ever so poorly that this work of prose fiction

even weaves tapestry slowly over these warped pages

shuttles threads of the weft in the shed of the loom

Mysticism ~ Thursday, 6 September 2018

...

...

Because I could not say goodbye to you that day

even as my brother and our mother had done

could not arrive on time for your open casket

as they say it matters and it does not matter

under circumstances outside of my control

search me why nobody checked your car's battery

even as everyone left in another car

as communication breaks down a family

talks with muted cell phones and arguments later

leave it to my mother to speak truth against love

even she could not hold back her anger my aunt

acted as a witness and my girlfriend observed

shouting and arguments as my mother revealed

that my brother let me become a troubled child

that I was not worthy of their concern as time

heals all wounds they observed me in conspiracy

even as depression and madness took over

pretend your son is not your son pretend to hide

and if he disappears do not complain your loss

simply accept the loss and move on let the past

triumph within darkness your deceit is complete

who single-handedly destroys their own sibling

even if their fortune demands a sacrifice

relief comes late in life as the body changes

even my own madness transformed with discipline

pretend your own sister is not observed by nuns

as schizophrenia inhabited her mind

severed from family living in a convent

the toll anxiety played against my mother

as she watched her own son slowly go mad inside

where no one can find you to help offer you life

as a consolation prize I won amnesty

yes the family leaves me completely alone

---

...

...

...

I was never as bad or as smart as Hamlet

sadly to say madness simply made me silent

as a church mouse and small in the vast universe

yes I affirm the past and confirm the future

---

the Magus of Hyde Park a marathon runner

holds no status other than as human being

even as the ego grumbles under its breath

family and the past mean nothing anymore

under circumstances beyond my own vision

trust became an issue as did money and hope

under my father's house alcohol reigned supreme

reason did not exist nor did understanding

even as I studied philosophy logic

indeed was a tough egg to crack but I did learn

still the rest of the world may or may not adhere

as logic is a game whose rules confuse others

shake off the yoke of youth and accept adulthood

even as a passage into the death cycle

race against the devil and his minions who run

in step to chase my soul to grasp as a plaything

of course the devil is a serious matter

under circumstances beyond Satan's control

silence offers me rest while I breathe in Spirit

minions glorified step alongside my own stride

as we pace mile for mile the length of the whole route

the marathon takes place in October a month

that treasures its demons and the blues musicians

entertaining demons as a sound distraction

remember the deceased and pray for their lost souls

---

...

Descent ~ Thursday, 6 September 2018

Mumble Bunny stumbles

      and falls

                        down

                                     the

                                              s

                                                  t

                                                      a

                                                          i

                                                              r

                                                                 c

                                                                     a

                                                                         s

                                                                             e

                                    underneath this stairwell

                                          Mumble Bunny sits glum

            muscles develop sores

                  and start to ache from pain

                              beginning to get up

                                    he feels nauseous and sick

                  left all alone at home

                        he knows he cannot cry

      even if his mother

            were home she would just laugh

But his father would hit

      his sadistic young bride

                        under the false belief

                              she would change for the best

            nobody knows whether

                  she were wicked before

                                    noticeable changes

                                          in her demeanor took

                        years off her appearance

                              they say she ages quick

Sinister forces leave

      Mumble Bunny alone

                                    to fend for his own life

                                          while his parents relax

                  under the canopy

                        of a huge umbrella

                                    maybe they forget how

                                          children cannot take care

            beyond basic functions

                  of their own special needs

                              left alone on his own

                                    Mumble Bunny makes do

                        ever the resourceful

                              young lad he calls the cops

                                          swooping into action

                                                they arrive just in time

                             

At six Mumble Bunny

      cannot know adoption

                                    needlessly allows boys

                                          and girls without parents

                        denial of services

                              if the child is at risk

For in this case as luck

      would have it the police

                              as merchants of the peace

                                    who both serve and protect

                  legally they could do

                        nothing but take the boy

                                          limp as a wet bar towel

                                                straight to the hospital

                              sentiments among men

                                    being few they leave him

Doctors observe the child

      see to his injuries

                                          only they discharge him

                                                after taking x-rays

                  wonders never cease for

                        Little Mumble Bunny

                                    nobody asks questions

                                          as to why a small boy

Tries to catch a cab home

      uncertain where he lives

                                                however the cabbie

                                                      has no other offers

                        even his dispatcher

                              tells the taxi driver

Simply to just hang tight

      maybe some passengers

            take a shine to the kid

                  or recognize the boy

                        and take care of the kid

                              or buy him some dinner

                                    if he wants a soda

                                          get him a root beer float

                                    remember why childhood

                                          gets a bad rap 

                                                                     trauma

                                          causes our memories

                                    to disappear the good

                              and the bad no matter

                        whether the harm he feels

                  still remains deep inside

            hidden away secret

      even when no one else

knows what the boy suffers

Creative Visualization ~ Monday, 3 September 2018

The year twenty twenty offers perfect vision

however if voters expect perfect results

even a perfect world can't cure myopia

yes the best is always yet to come but to get

even through the front door we must knock to see if

another possible world where we imagine

right-wing politics own up to their fascist roots

trouble is left-wing groups deny their communist

worldview as too extreme in practice when theory

even across blueprints dismayed both architects

noting concrete buildings in Soviet era

tried and true housing plans and false historians

yesterday's true bright minds with foresight in vision

to conquer the problem of civil war bloodshed

worrisome issues like forced starvation torture

even dictatorships without end and bread lines

noble as a concept each communist dream failed

to realize theory and practice don't align

yet back to the blackboard with more talk of praxis

only the fascist dream fell apart after war

forecast domination to spin on its axis

for nearly thirty years and disappear behind

every little splinter faction across Europe

restless to gain control over the continent

silly neo-Nazi rallies take place in Germany

pretend we could solve world hunger poverty

even weather patterns that only forecast doom

realize the future where we all help others

for to allow failure as an option to choose

even as such choices came from bad decisions

children and young adults make early on in life

terror anxiety trauma and depression

very much set out sights too low to rise above

in our need to succeed we seek to redefine

success in terms of self instead of with others

indeed competition hasn't any losers

only winners who train against their past results

not to outdo themselves but to correct mistakes

Oculāris ~ Sunday, 2 September 2018

I am nothing to you unless the sea watches

as each tremulous wave passes on the surface

majestic and noble the ocean roars and laughs

nothing bothers its tides the rise and fall of love

on the surface of life history discusses

the causes of movements similar to physics

however the heart knows when love is just a game

in the big picture time itself quivers slowly

nothing matters but space full of dark energy

gravity cannot draw two bodies together

that repel each other as we observe each day

over and over time and time again these games

you play I play as well but to others it means

only a waste of time and energy of love

understood by just one and no more than just one

under the sea you can find me these ruddy claws

nobody wants to eat captured and thrown away

libraries fill with shelves full of poetry books

even librarians don't care if you steal them

still dust gathers atop the rows and rows hopeless

save me pleads every book from going unnoticed

these games you play I play as well but just as games

however no one cares when the wind doesn't blow

even the weatherman will never say no breeze

see when a tornado rips up a town destroys

every little structure in its path but still cuts

a swath like the reaper in a field at harvest

when the time comes to build again we will restore

again and again home after home until all

the townsfolk find shelter once more from the forces

channeled by God himself in a fit of anger

hungry for his people to pay him attention

even the townsfolk know who enters a union

seen as holy by God he shall not break that bond

Illusion ~ Sunday, 2 September 2018

I have all that I need all that I need I have

Have I the conditions to satisfy the self

all that I need I have I have all that I need

veritably the self needs nothing more than love

even these conditions being met the self asks

Asks what more do I need what more to feed the soul

love seems never enough the soul burns evermore

left alone I become desperate for the soul

That burns burns evermore never ending the flames

have I met the one flame to quench all other flames

asks the self in torture happily set alight

the flames of hell consume the soul in this lifetime

I need all that I have all that I have I need

Nothing could be more off the target than this phrase

even when conditions for happiness are met

even then the soul burns in hell in this lifetime

discipline is needed to perform the functions

Asked by the self inside hidden quiet silent

left alone I wonder why am I here today

love comforts to smother the flames within the heart

The heart surrounds itself with other hearts beating

hearts restless to consume like lions in the bush

ask the heart why the self all alone continues

to seek out other hearts to consume in its flames

I want what I don't have what I don't have I want

Noble is the river of blood coursing through veins

even today I ask myself why I would want

everything evermore like a star deep in space

desperate all alone ready to disappear

I don't have what I want what I want I don't have

Have I entered this world to consume other hearts

asks the self in judgment mouth bloody with rivers

veritably the soul knows when it sees itself

even a mirror casts but a mirror image