FREESTYLEVISION

I could kiss you, and leave
My unabridged walking towards this
Heavy hearted me from a
Picture frame, now ordained as the
Box that I make my way around in, indefinitely

You turned out to be
Too much, for me
A real thing despite the, usual, illusory backdrop
Our surroundings cast the shadows of my disbelief
You – in depth in fire or flames
Can you blame me?

Deep breaths, scent of the places you’ve been, without me
Scare me, because pasts repeat
Your heart is mended in ways I can’t deem myself ready for
As you stand bare, revealing something so contrasted, somehow
In perfect unity

I want you.
You scare me
You’ll take all of this, and because of this
My feeling does not change, but
These off of cliff’s edges steps, you accompany
So I, return, this favor.
Forget what I have thought, and try to only consider
What you see in me

What will come of this
Flowers, life and oblivion
If we are fortunate
Dreaming only within its own territory
is not enough, never was

Beyond parameters of
Imagination, mainly, because the
Possiblities reign endlessly
In the crimson void of symmetry
Destined for beyond

To catapult is improvisational.
Landing will surprise.

The rise, the ride is it.
To fame or market’s bottom.

Who is there
For your arrival? Will

You be gladden
by their waiting? Or

Removed from all
Caring in a flash.

I’m watching those
Fly overhead without

A seeming care. Two
Minds are observable:

Those with their eyes
shut tight

And those going wide-eyed
Toward glory or the abyss.

Her shadows beckon the ultimate return
Birthed and bothered by a call of the voluptuous luminescence
Must get back where, the curves are no question
Where I am the exception
Fly on the wall not even
Just a small speck of sight that gets to witness
long legs and a fitness
Hurdling miles per second with no precipitation

Ms? Knows her own revelations
And teaches me slowly, surely, like prophecy
We know I am destined for her plateau
Mean time though, the imagination runs wild
with every possibility of places to caress her ineffable silhouette
Now I am free to roam
And we, eventually, will not become, but will be known
As one

Letters fly, away from it all
Language does best – burned and tethered
Armor lines the people’s chest
Many lines can attest for
The embargo on many actual moments

But on the brink of
Time becomes still, while we, as its company,
can do nothing but match the decorum
We are fallacies upon melodies

Take us out of time, find ourselves in space
Where movements align, morph, match, to the point
where you can’t differentiate
The dance comes after 1 more step or, one more line and
1 more song or, when you are ready

It never says ‘come’
But always welcomes
you home

Driving Out Somewhere

To come out of the haze
that hung on the street
was a deep breath released.

Turning catches corners
lifting angle glance windy
sparse grit clutters angular walks.

Tied to bullet response held
back along drives away along
avenues dimly lit hushed fever gulf.

Roped-off personal folly comes
as the mind in the humming car
envisions the circumstance called the world.

All At Once

Register will and clock from silence.
Aperitif greets the meat of digression.
Happenstance fades to glimmer blade,
bends the corners of not quite.

Once there was subterfuge in the telling.
The all encompassing let it out.
Partial explanations for this moment
will never bond with your idea of narrative.

The alpha and the omega of transport blues
parks outside the newsstand playing
for change which is transitory.
All at once the measure ends, gathers dusk to its side.

Tossed pejoratives have narrowed the field. Out back
The grass grows while stasis and beautiful sunsets go hand And heart. From the north the glove is removed.
Satellite pictures gloss the subject. A vast patina
Has descended. “And, am I glad to see you.”
Others find the fog and traffic a distillation connected
To the end times like the frost on the lawn that stretches
Away from early times. Discontent has moderated
The flow of things around the basin.
Tasks were started up and rejected

Out of hand. Perspective is a two-way street.
Dinner arrives quietly comforting no one.
A tossed narrative, such as this,
Disjointed such as it is, links the shy
And the bold in a leap time devours.

Indirectly I still love you.
This essence is not linear.
Encouraging modal tones over abrasion
Is the way we survive.

Can I see all the poor people raise their hands!
Can I see all the middle class people raise their hands!
Can I see all the rich people raise their hands!

Why isn’t anyone raising their hand?
Why can’t we proudly own our social privileges?
Why are social struggles easier to talk about?

Well, it’s simple:
No one wants to claim their social privilege
I am privileged. I am white, heterosexual, and Protestant
I would like to share my feelings with you tonight.

Privilege is
Discriminating, blending in, or celebrating

Whites renounce race, heterosexuals renounce sexuality, and everyone renounces class
So differences, similarities, and assumptions remain in the closet
And only come out during rants and in social science text books.

Privilege is
Denying, accepting, or educating

Privileged people find it pointless to discuss social issues
Because they think it does not directly concern them
It makes them feel uncomfortable, guilty, and cocky

So minorities pick up the slack by becoming experts of
Race relations, sexual rights, and civil liberties
By justifying and defending their positions

Privilege is
Scoffing, staying silent, or confronting

This in turn reinforces the majority to stay out of the conversation
Because we can’t relate and we don’t want to offend anyone
So we stay quite and remain ignorant to the plight of others.

Privilege is
Not having to write a poem like this.