nocturnal daydreams
slumber of elder babies
rescued briefly
battered, beaten, broken ones
inhale deep
relief fading
abrasive, harsh transmission waves
lapping over sacred grounds
soothed lullabies jolted
scorching light consumes
inevitable reality

I will hold on to my peace
When everything is falling apart
All my happiness has ceased
And I am hurting in my heart

I will keep my peace strong
At times when alone I am facing trials
When everyone has turned and gone
My peace will be my survival

I will let my peace guide me
In the chaos of a decaying society
Stripped of being truly free
Dictated to by economics bounty

I shall go quietly
albeit with my chains -
released into the ethers
without pleasure, without pain

Dissociative dimness,
numbs the mind.
Indifference is Nature's way
of release, from the unkind.

No love for love
given freely over time.
No pity for this fool
who's passion proved the only crime.

14 April 13

Silently she sleeps.
Arms outstretched in random fashion.
Body innocent in naked frankness.
Hair, rich golden billows, cloak her pillow.
A smile. face calm. Eyes gently closed.
Breasts rise in time to easy breaths.
Sun, filtered through lazy leaves from
Old oak trees, envelopes her and plays
shadow games on her demerara skin.
I trace her wondrous lines.
She mews and purrs
And softly moves to bring my hands
to play where her body needs they be.
My finger’s tips are gentle, slow and soft

I wonder if the foundation
For your religion
Is so baseless.
Theology exams,yeah
Nobody aced it.
We cheated
But these people passed us.
Yet they have the guts
To still call themselves pastors??

Undergraduate,postgraduate
Right to the Masters.
I wonder if it is right
To start my pilgrimage
Right from Damascus?
For the sin is so ugly
I have to mask it.
Buried deep within
In righteousness' casket.

When you touch me softly and gently,
All my problems disappear physically and mentally,
Your touch first starts at my spine,
It lets me know everything is fine,
Your touch lets me feel loved,
Like a higher power sent you from above,
Your voice is so sweet, so gentle,
You give me reason to be kindle,
The first time we touched,
I no longer felt the Clutch,
You have the power of Healing Hands,
For this I know you have many fans.
Written by: Trey Jones

Pass me the cheese for my peas,
please,
Before I get stung on my knees
by bees that carry disease!

Report Poem

First Evening (Première Soirée)
by Arthur Rimbaud

Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.

Perched on my enormous easy chair,
Half nude, she clasped her hands.
Her feet trembled on the floor,
As soft as they could be.

I watched as a ray of pale light,
Trapped in the tree outside,
Danced from her mouth
To her breast, like a fly on a flower.

The weekly mad house.
Everyone in the “Ten Items
Or Less” line has more.
Dressed in finery straight from church or shorts
and flip-flops right from the morning hangover.
The week-to-weekers with buggies full of
plastic on plastic.
And an old gray haired guy
somewhere is smiling.
This is a long way from 1962
right Sam?

Exhale.
Long awaited and so in control of .....
All.

I read it.
It reads me right back.

Random music on
but
not
much
else.

His words speak heat.
He gives me language in degrees
that stick to my skin
like humid summer time, beg for some relief soon Jesus please...