All I need in this life is my pen some paper and a knife because when it comes to poetry I go insane in the brain and can't be contained I am on fire!!! Question my desire and I shall burn u like timber leaving u almost dismembered but u remember me from grade k through 3 I am that test u never passed that feeling u wouldn't couldn't or shouldn't last in my arena called education I am as amazing as a refugee lost in the wilderness
Man my life's a mess
All I need
All I need
All I need is poetry
I am
That N-word

It is time to find
our tomorrow's memories
In today's kisses

no matter the day begone
a first kiss eviternal

as the sun does rise
starlings call carries in wind
land on peach dew lips

early footprints clearly seen
Inevitable arc trod

clean sand to walk on
our signature right here
no one before us

buoyant steps to journey so
greetings overcome sorrow

treasured dew drops form
tipping new sunlight colour
love streaming outward

What wonders the imagination can bring
With opened ear and untamed eye
Dreams that we shall toss and fling
And float about towards the sky

By luminous light of thought
Day and night will awaken newly
And become what you have sought
To find your most distant Thule

Never letting go of that which we cherish
The spirit of innocence and truth
Why without it, what would we but perish?
In the darkness of lost youth

Transpose these words spit from tongues lashing. The prose conforms in an eloquent fashion. Framed in a forgotten subtext of silence, an esoteric embrace unfolds to surround all sentient waste. Drawing upon a death dance to resurrect the remains of a subliminal sense of salvation or some fraction of sanity. Confined by chains of vanity, feeding the machines empowering a false egotistical mindset, malfunctioning gears give way to revel a grim glimpse of an impossible perfection as promised, a calumny never to propagate. Your reflections distort as demons dance within lucid dreams of lunacy.

I've been in a mood lately but right now I'm figuring why not
Basically I know I've got a 50 percent chance of you saying no but how bout

I give it a go Well I'm a poet named Emmanuel and it's really nice to meet you

You should already know your beautiful but just in case you haven't heard it in a while

You are
Hope this ain't a bother but I'd love to get a chance to talk to you sometime

I apologize for being so shy

Aggressive tire treads hum along
as the paved road falls away
and radio plays some old song
in small hours of a new day

Old truck enveloped by the dark
as headlights show the way to go
once again I must embark
to somewhere that the world turns slow

For far too long worry and strain
have filled my days and endless nights
as doubt's daemons filled fevered brain
recalled mistakes..imagined slights

That leaking faucet was maddening,
it had nothing to do with his car
breaking down, catching his wife
running around or the totalitarian way
his boss ran the office;

no, it was that sleep depriving drip
he needed to grenade.

A clipper proud majestic
just three weeks out at sea
The captain in his cabin
with the ships cat on his knee
Her sails unfurled the rigging tight
her crew all down below
A tempest in her infancy
once born began to grow.

Now darkness it was falling
then from high up in the nest
Captain there be a storm for sure
she’s blowing nor, nor west
Make fast the sails batten down
you boy fetch me rum
The captain knew as the boson did
the terror yet to come.

Stingray Dreaming

Through a wall of tears,
bat like and bigger than the world
it glides to the drowning ceremony.
With slit mouth
and lipless like a bull ant’s nest,
it avoids the broken ones
whose grey hairs creep from ankle to knee.

Contagion spreads
and fear.
Not what and if but when and how.
Death percentages.
Face mask dreamers in your dream;
beg, questioning.
Answers come like daylight, streaky, flesh coloured,
easily forgotten.
Not which heaven but for how long?

I make a tea of chamomile
with ginger, sage and spice.
It’s green and sharp to bring a smile,
but I’ve a stronger vice.

A cold concoction percolates
on ice ~ “The Thing Soothfast”™.
Its caffeinated sweetness rates
a star, but doesn’t last.

Of course some water (if it’s cold)
can quench a heady thirst.
So bland though, it grows swiftly old
unlike the brew that’s first.

And “To the Second Power G”™
I turn at times for salt.
Electrolytes can set one free,
but this I’ll not exalt.