Robin Williams

It often seems I've skipped a rung
Some days, for what it's worth.
I've missed a step - I've slipped and swung
To some peculiar Earth.

On days like these, those moments tossed
Emerge with careless haste -
To leave me hopeless, hurt and lost,
With bitter truths to taste.

I'm sure it seems absurd to hear
I'd grieve to let him go -
I'd close my eyes and shed a tear
For guys I didn't know -

But all the same - I will a while.
That man I never met -
The man that made me laugh and smile -
I never shall forget.

-Unknown

What Happens? (10w)

What happens
if a poet
has nothing
left to write?

How to love a poet

the problem with
being a poet in love,
is that you savor
and trust each word your lover has
without  question.

we are simply in love
with bare literature,
spoken from the lips of someone we hold
in higher regard
then ourselves sometimes.

when you love a poet
each word you utter,
should be a piece of artwork

each sentence,
a highly thought out structure of awe and beauty to leave us seeping
in the warmth of your voice
caressing such fine words

so when deciding that you love someone,
who writes or reads
fill their souls with beauty, memories & truth especially,
for a poet's heart breaks at ease.

Body

A Beauty you are out and within
I have an insatiable desire to write poetry on your skin
Your body my canvas feel my gentle brush
Writing orgasms with my erotic touch
My girl I love your tone
Soft and silky to the bone
Finding words..be my guide
As we connect I come inside
Filling each other..there's no strain
Steady my thoughts I must maintain
Watching my penmanship using a steady stroke
I start hallucinating from my mental smoke
Sends me into a frenzied flow
I'll find my pace..go on a roll
My words soak in as you taste
My emotions invade your inner space
From your toes up to your eyes
Writing Haikus between your thighs
Poetry on your body every inch
You start writhing from my Scorpion pinch
Sinfully venomous my words forever sink
Into your skin my poetic tattoo ink
As you lay naked I visually feast
Every line of your body a masterpiece..

Perhaps the only difference between me and other people, is that I have always demanded more from the sunset, more spectacular colors, when the sun hit the horizon. That is perhaps my only sin.

Philip Seymour Hoffman

I'm going to crack myself open and pour the beauty in the street,
like a fire hydrant's river running in this jungle of concrete
So when all the kids come running, I'll be a puddle at their feet,
instead of hardened eyes, and a bag of bones and meat;
instead of sorrow, splendor, instead of sadness, relief
Greet them at the "I", defeat in them the "me"
I'll offer up my thoughts, but leave the sentences incomplete
It's far too easy to get bought, if all your talk is cheap
Reflections remind them as they learn, in turn, they truly teach,
our lives can only touch that for which we've reached
Half the task to catch, the other half?
Release

A dream I never wanted

I dreamt of you the night of last
The haunting of a promised past
Begins as one expects it might
Where everything starts out alright
But then my arms, they held you tight
“This shouldn’t be” I thought with fright
But who am I? It felt so right
So that hug turned to a kiss
And with that kiss I reminisce
To a place I sometimes miss
And thus the kiss turned to a stare
Our worlds were locked without a care
It seemed like no one else was there
The love I felt could hardly bear
Your eyes still burned the deepest blue
But in them now a passion grew
A passion that we never knew
One kiss then I wanted more
I went back in, we hit the floor
Embraces neatly intertwined
I was yours and you were mine
But I awoke only to find
It all was just in my mind

Lucifer won the war in heaven ages ago

"Sushi? I didn't think there'd be sushi in heaven," Mike said.
"Why not? Sushi is the shit," the angel said.
"And cursing. And beer? Is that beer?"
In fact, the table was laid out with all the things Mike loved. Chicken wings, malt whiskey, crab legs, club sandwiches, those little wieners wrapped in bacon. Over the table hung a cage where two beautiful women danced naked to 90's alternative. The angel saw him gazing.
"You can have them after dinner," he said.
"Are they being punished?" Mike asked. He was a man, through and through, but he didn't like the idea of raping someone in paradise.
"Punished? Is that what you think we do here? They love it. Some women like to party. We don't hold that against them. Cherry there has been welcoming our new guests for two hundred years." The angel leaned close with a knowing smile. "There are no anal fissures in heaven, so go wild."
Mike coughed. "So uh, well . . ." He coughed again. "What are the uh, ground rules?"
"Ground rules?"
"Like, what's the forbidden fruit? What's the catch around here?"
"No catches. The boss doesn't care for rules. Everybody gets in, and everybody gets what they desire. Let's say you were a Christian all your life, well I'd be all shiny and I'd take you on the holy tour, you'd get to look down at hell and pity the damned, that sort of thing. If you're Mike from Maryland, you get chicken wings and bitches."
"Huh," Mike said. "You know, I never really believed in this place, but I figured, if it was there, it'd be a little more uptight."
"Not since Lucy reclaimed the throne."
"Lucy?"
"Lucifer. He's Lucy now. Or she's Lucy now. We're all a little confused. But hey, more power to him if that's what gets her off."
"Lucifer?! Lucifer is in charge of heaven?"
Mike knocked over his beer in surprise. The angel was laughing heartily.
"Oh, the shock on your faces, it never gets old! Yes, Lucifer fought a last resistance a very long time ago. He crushed the Usurper handily. As the Usurper fell, he passed through earth, and it was in retaliation that he saddled you guys with all those ridiculous books and laws."
"No shit."
"No shit."
Mike pulled out from long years of habit. To his surprise, he orgasmed a slice of apple pie, complete with a fork and a dapple of cream.
"Sorry," Cherry said. She took a bite and melted with satisfaction. "I really love pie after sex."
"No, that was awesome." Mike was looking in awe at his penis. In Maryland, whatever came out of it was generally a nuisance. It certainly hadn't been pie.
Cherry laughed. "It takes a little getting used to."
"Yeah, I guess it does."
He lay down on his back with his hands clasped behind his head. While Cherry enjoyed her dessert, he tried to bring the last several hours into focus.
"So, you heard the angel and me talking, right?"
"Sure."
"About Lucy and the resistance and all that?"
"Yeah."
"Is that what he told you?"
"What do you mean?"
Mike had never given these sorts of things much thought, so he had difficulty articulating the funny feeling in his brain. He looked at Cherry's breasts, ran a finger down her back, watched her eat the pie. Paradise . . .
"I mean, if part of this place is hearing what you want to hear, how do you know what's what? How do we know what's true?"
Cherry swallowed and shook her fork. "Oh yeah, the paradox thingy. You know, it's been a long time since I thought about it. You're pretty quick to grab it so fast. It'll bother you for a while, but when you get to live the way you want to live the whole truth thing just kind of goes out the window. I mean, who cares?"
"But, what if what you want is the truth? Like, is there a truth?"
She held up the pie. "This is the fucking truth, honey." The way she said it, he found difficulty finding any fault with it. Still, he was bothered, and he didn't think a person should feel bothered in heaven.
"What if this is really hell? What if somebody really is looking down, pitying us?" he wondered aloud.
The walls began to shake.
"Wow, that really must be bothering you," Cherry said.
"What? Why? What's happening?" Mike was on his feet now. "Is this bad?"
"Lucy's coming. She comes around when the paradox gets to you. Don't worry, she's super nice. Tell her you like her dress."
"What?"
There was a warbling, pixelating whoomf and a beautiful woman stepped out of a hole in the wall. When the hole closed, the room shuddered back to solid.
"Cherry!" the woman exclaimed. "You indigo slut, it's been ages! How are you!"
The two of them hugged. Mike stood naked and speechless.
"This is Mike," Cherry said, after a few more obligatory exchanges. "He's worried about the whole where am I thing."
"Mike." Lucy held out her hand. The nails were painted, the fingers were milk white.
"I - I like your dress," Mike said.
Lucy's laughter was sudden, honest, and contagious. Soon all three of them were laughing. Mike began to feel embarrassed he had been taking things so seriously.
"Well, I do hate these formalities," Lucy said, drawing a card from her blouse, "but there is bureaucracy even here." She handed him the card. "If you ever want to know the truth, just find the address on the card there. They'll fill you in on everything."
"Really?" Mike said, taken aback. "Just like that?"
"Well . . ."
Aha! Mike's head rejoiced. A catch! Finally a damn catch. It eased his mind immensely just knowing there was something up.
"If you go to the truth, you can't come back." Lucy's frown was sexual. Everything about her was sexual.
"You can't come back? Why?"
"I can't tell you that. It's part of the truth."
Mike looked at the card. It was nothing but TRUTH in capital letters, under which read the enticing address, 1 Truth Road.
Lucy's hand was on his arm. He hadn't noticed her approach. When he looked up there was intensity in her eyes. It thrilled him. She spoke softly.
"My advice is always the same. You have an eternity to enjoy yourself. The truth can wait."
He was in her mouth before he knew what was happening. It was pleasure beyond anything he'd ever known. When he finished, and Lucy took her leave, he and Cherry shared the bucket of chicken wings.
It took Mike 376 years to get bored. He stood at 1 Truth Road, thinking it was funny how small the building was.
When he walked in, the man behind the reception desk smiled.
"You seek the truth?" the man said.
"I suppose I do," Mike said.
"If you don't mind, there's a series of questions I'd like to ask you. This is completely optional, but your honest answers help us improve paradise."
Mike shrugged. "Shoot."
"How would you rate your overall experience? These are all one to ten, by the way."
"Ten."
"How helpful was our staff?"
"Ten."
"The weather?"
"Ten."
"The event center?"
"Ten."
"The wi-fi?"
"You know what, just put me down for ten on everything."
The man nodded knowingly. It took him a good five minutes to fill in all the tens, and Mike was glad he made the request.
"If you don't mind my asking, if everything is a ten, why leave?" the man asked.
Mike paused shortly.
"I could go for a few sevens."
"Fair enough. Just go down that hall, and you're looking for the second door on the right. Good luck."
He found the room easily enough. It was smaller than the main lobby, but with the same setup. It was mostly white, and there was a man behind a desk and a single chair in front of it. Mike blinked a few times. It was the same man.
"Take a seat."
"You're the same guy," Mike said.
"I run things around here. Go ahead, sit down. Alright, so before we proceed I have to make sure you understand this all correctly. For starters, once you find out the truth, you know that you can't go back?"
"I do."
"And you know that you're leaving of your own free will, that you aren't compelled in any way to leave?"
"Well, I can only assume that, really."
"Good enough. And the last thing, you're aware that billions of souls are perfectly happy to be happy in spite of the paradox?"
"I am."
"Great. Now, as for the truth. For the last 376 years, you have been living in paradise, and paradise is awesome."
That's all he said. He said it as if that was all that needed saying. For the first time in a long time, Mike was angry.
"That's not enough," he said through clenched teeth.
"I'm afraid it never is." The man nodded.
"What about God? The Devil? Heaven and Hell and right versus wrong? Who runs this place? Where is it?"
"Oh. Really? That's not even part of the paradox. God and the Devil are the same thing, and this where people go when they die. That's all pretty much obvious."
"But, but . . ." Had he made a mistake coming here? He suddenly wanted nothing more than to step back into the orgy's oblivion. "But what about, I mean, who's right?"
The man spread his hands. His face was brutally sincere. "If you can't ask a meaningful question I can't help you," he said.
Mike was speechless. He had no idea what question to ask. All those years, the chicken, the women, the booze, he always just figured the truth was sitting here on a silver platter, waiting for him. God and the Devil are the same person? What kind of truth was that?
"The exit is through that door," the man said.
It was a plain door.
"What's on the other side?"
"I have no idea."
"What??! This is 1 Truth Road! I'm giving up Paradise for this. The fuck you don't know what's on the other end of a goddamn door!"
"I never went through it."
"Then you don't know the truth!"
"I told you the truth."
"What about the door?"
"That's where you leave."
"What's behind it?"
"I don't have a clue."
"Jesus Christ!"
"Not really."
Mike went to the door and threw it open. Before he went in, he looked back one last time.
"At least give me this. What's the point of this place? 1 Truth Road. It sure as hell ain't the truth."
The man shrugged. "It wouldn't be paradise with you moping around."
Mike fell through the door.

Word of the day

Sonder

n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

My vice
My real vice
has always been the vice of perfection
this despicable vice
of finding diamonds
among filth and infection.

And my pleasure
my only real pleasure
has come from loving & not needing possession.
It has come from these wounds,
still open, still deep , bleeding wounds
which I earned while fighting my obsession.

It´s an horrible vice
It´s the deepest of pleasures
It´s sad,
but the story of this life 
was a story of deception.

I took them on purpose

the capsule contained
a powder that gave birth
to a bigger me
that sees small worlds in words
where hands steady twitch
toes numb, new fits of joy,
boy, i am happy now.
and happy now
and happy now
and happy now.
low brow and stomach cramps
songs sampled from 80's,
lips sampled from ladies
living crazy as hell
bells ring bells ring
as the chemical caution
makes me manic and tell
tales of the night we raised hell
and other things.