Dust in Heaven

Walking down this powdered-sugar street,
I hear it again,
The words repeat

Did it hurt to slowly freeze?
Did you cry,
Or die with ease?

Were you pushed from your chair?
Unconscious
Blood dripping from your hair

I hope you quietly fell asleep,
covered in a blanket;
snow that’s two feet deep

I sit beside your brother, who keeps shaking
it’s withdraws
and the sobs he keeps making

the addictions; over, finished, done
some might thing you lost,
but I say you finally won

who cares about streets of gold?
heaven is heaven
because there's no cold

people always talk about gates made of pearls,
but heaven is heaven
because it isn’t of this world

angels always mentioned,
but couldn't care if we grow wings
I don't think thats God's intention

Used to think of how I would fly,
but heaven is heaven
because we won't cry

Everything all shining and bright
maybe- but it's heaven and its glorious
because there is no night!

No more mustard and salami sandwiches
Heaven is heaven
For fullness, not riches

I could go forever, the wonders, the laud
Heaven is heaven
because of our God!

The beauty

How beautiful are rusty wheels
empty tables
and uneaten meals

how sweet a spare bed at the Sally-Ann
a drug-drenched rag
an addiction that demands

As I walk in the whitened blur
Remember your brother
Shaking as he slurs

telling of the dark of night
the freezing cold
behind an alley, out of sight

lay beneath a carpet of snow
quietly freezing
death comes much too slow

how wonderful is dying
how beautiful is heaven
there, there is no crying

every pain- diminished
any hurt, in justice
all of this earth- finished!

my arms around the bony back
of your sobbing brother
whatever comfort I lack

it's him who says:
"she's now with Jesus"
and in my mind it plays

as usual, a smile on your face
every scar, each wrinkle
gone without a trace

who cares about streets of gold?
heaven is heaven
because there's no cold

Will you even notice the gates?
all life's pain
has no record, has no place

in this world we cry, we fear
my father promises
to wipe away every tear

Gone from earth, this pain-soaked sod
No more sadness or sorrow
heaven is heaven because of our God!

garden in the desert

little red flowers
why won't you keep a nice, straight row?
you were to be yellow,
innocent, adorable
to know only so little
and never speak this story
but now,
your stems have been stretched
roots replanted
and your color is wrong
but time extends
and the evil only spreads
and more turn to red
the crimson flows to everything
spreading splashes even leaves
painting over the garden
somehow every flower is innocent
while brightly very red
everything is flecked, a giant brush above
freckles along the stems
because the earth is full of blood
and if it were to rain
the clouds would be a brown-ish shade
the perfume of thie bouquet,
strong, stagnant and still sweet
despite the bed
soil layers much too drenched
to think the red will fade
as the wind rocks your heads
banging you together
a well thought gesture to clump as one,
but this was to be yellow
and the other to be blue
notice the scent, the shape
you must look past colors now
as everything is bleeding

Spray of Gold

Bear-mace is yellow-ish brown when sprayed. It was mostly aimed for this person's eyes- punishment for saying too much.

i dont want the shimmering
me, who loves the stars
demand they cower in the clouds
murky puddles' silver rims even
shine too bright
basking in the darkness
walk ever slow
savor the damp cold
air, breathe in the comforting concrete

blue and purple no matter how
majestic, even if there's blood
still not drag down
tears compared to the sprays of light
heavy heart for all that paint
dusty, metallic

showered in all gold; shiny malice coating
running flock to join
to dance, to cheer
laughter fades echos back in grins
bouncing run to follow, set out this terrored custom

specks of light across
his back filling up the eyes
seem to fly, your shirt becomes a cloak
flapping behind as you run
across the lawn
dimming lights such hazy glow
this would be so beautiful
if there were no fear

LINES

this is not for anyone, just a way to voice my questions and plead once more for something clearer. The part about the angels was God's confirmation through a man at the park who's first words (in broken english) to me were, "You have very strong angels." and i still smile to consider that i keep my guardians in-shape.

draw the lines much deeper
carve close to the muscle
i want to see the fences

bright imagination; still too far
never dared these depths

the strongest shambles of armor
and firm assurance of body-builder angels

sorted out the 'if' and 'don't'
you must realize color
but i'm still waiting for definers
i am a woman.- i guess you already knew

how holy are bills in blood?
can you salvage the cocaine?
my list continues on

never doubt the people
or question humanity
i'm struggling with holiness
waist-deep in pig-shit pride

my pedastal would smash
if it was off the ground
instructors are the drug-lords,
thats enough in shards

i like the shocking titles
the glow it gives my face
but when its me and the four walls
can't pretend there is no 'them'

waiting on the borders
darkest black, please
and simple things; like do i feed the hungry?

i know where to stand on something like pawn shops,
but where is your commandment
on taking the gifts of a theif,
and is this so much different?

do my eyes scream loud enough?
is telling right or left crossing into sin?
when to be a friend is an alibi, do i walk away?

i don't want to live it
experience is scary, open-house for error
make a list- typed, so i won't slip
highlight all in bold

love and justice don't mix,
but combust with deadly fumes
how can i declare to care
grasp the hand who's twin sells the death
and really love that too-thin woman, fistfull of a wrinkled twenty

father; do i feed the hungry?

When?

for that lady who still makes my eyes fill up, when will you be ready? do you know you will never escape the streets, never rise above the sniff on your own?

talk is tiny and i'm no doctor
you’re bleeding on the floor
nod, re-fill my cup
act as if i understand
my four walls
often vary but they are always stable
honesty won't let me say its sympathy
clear strong words pulled from that strangled throat
“I’m not ready.”
i imagined last words to be quivering, shaking
“I’m not ready."
teetering between profound and real
your slow suicide attempt filling up my nostrils
head-ache in the making, successful to impress
history of broken bits and standing-up the ambulance
wonder how familiar paramedics are with 'no'

“I’m not ready.”
who told you to be patient?
who said preparation? cliff-jumping is exhilarating!
addictions are immortal
with lungs like infants, never give you peace
hope shouting, 'you can't. trash to try,
you will never be enough.'
look down at my own callouses
the bleeding, leaking sores
some so deep and cracked
mirror in my fingers,
so much lace we add, its hard to believe your logo is a pus-y blister
“I’m not ready.”
maybe its the same with all dying words
replay again and again until they lose their force
all the pauses in between, the question we both beg
the path isn’t far, just very, very long

Human

for that boy who kept showing up in my prayers all day, and made the sirens worry me. this poem was supposed to swing into something about changing your name and thus stepping into a new identity and future, but i guess thats for another poem, another time.

human
wide smile, white teeth
broad chest accompanied with belly
soft smell of berries blue
that shirt you wont dare leave
shy about your hands
but not for where you place them
that strut blends your limp
speak of respect confused with fear

sometimes words are easy
but names are always earned
never cheaply given

sister's blood still fresh
days of hunger dont forget
and all those nights of worry
sleeping in the jungle
thinking 'if tomorrow...'

tiny silver pieces:
money
death
destruction
guilt so far displaced
yet i cannot condemn
after all, you're human
or should i say for me?

wear a symbol
shout the title
can never see that first
a hero always forward
human in the mix

members slowly people
people always human
your gang is just a group
of hurting, hungry humans

and Jesus loves humanity
even the very human
in every one, us all

Big Brown Eyes

to my soccer buddy who is a tiny giant with malt-ball eyes and a funny 'fro.

blood running down the sink
in the creases of your fingers
pools in your palms

scars engraved
written in stone
can be
markings on the path
biased history

infront is not decided
don't draw the map so quickly
number 6 reverberates

just like bleach
toxic to drink
smell just rests in the air
burns so sweet
rusty red stains
made white
not the natural, still intended

clog the drain
discolor enamel
leave the faucet dripping

Blood is life
not added or included,
but the very bricks
its all about dying
the very reason, very breathing

wash your hands in The Blood
bathe in the flow of life
suicide?
perhaps
but isn't that the point?
its all about dying

sit beside those fancy doors
shadowed in the steeple
im mixing myself in
prepare yourself
The Blood is chasing you
that gun won't be enough
can't protect from this

water is inadequate
baptize in the bleach
brittle, fake skin seared away
red-shell diluted by The Blood

liberal portions in your person
crossed the ocean
all things new
now ford that bloody river
drenched clean the other side

not the future, nor the past
only answer
'Do not kill'
plunge into that river, dive into the death
its all about dying

She's Waiting For Her Bus

to the girl who is always teaching me, and so easily forgets my faults, i'm thankful for your friendship!

i'm the friendly one
i'm the...
the perfect one.
where do we begin?

he threw pennies at you.
im so sorry.
im so
sorry.

you made appointments
i just stood beside you
you got protection
i just took a breath

i made you face a fear
a tiny,
little fear pretending
I was with you
all the way

and I watched you
let you sell
yourself
what about reality?
you face that
every hour
I won't walk it with you
meet that one
all alone

I can't force you
to stop
but neutral is a liar
its a false-front disease

If I care at all I'll scream
I'll whisper
I'll mumble
Anything
is better than idle

I wont wish good luck
cant say
fare well
but I pray blessing
protection not in any rubber
form
God bless
not man
not boy
may you be in His watch
in the palm of His hand

how true you are a hooker
at the end
image still the same
onion-breath and all

New Best Friend

for that boy that dared to say and be so real. you dont know how huge your false confidence has been, i returned because you lied, if that makes any sense. hopefully one day, i will remember (even better, discover) your real name.

I coudn't help but notice
your thick wad of bills
how you tried to keep your cool
the authority you carry
the name you said isnt what they're shouting
or how popular you are with passing cars
I couldn't help but notice

I couldnt help but notice
that your'e just a little boy
that smile is of fear and nothing else
how homesick you are; waiting to return, back where you belong
Mabye its in Africa
maybe its in Florida
maybe its the loving arms behind you
maybe its the pleading, bleeding Jesus at your side

I couldn't help but notice...
and now I'll always remember

Filthy White

Potholes were and unwelcome surprise
The mind draws a city with well-groomed streets
Ruts to the brim with ice and slush,
or both
Sparkling, brown: a reflection

The dirtied snow still gleams
Seems so stupid to lie,
pretend the snow is pure
The steeple's steps are crowded;
used for beds and deals.

The question has become:
who's the gleaming white and who's the muddy mess?

After Thoughts

Do these prayers pierce the ceiling?
Dark caverns
Stale and cold
Questions linger
Hanging in the mist
Thirsty promises
Verses that echo in
Their hollowness
Slow drip of tears
Adding to black pools
Kneeled pleas carved across cave’s walls
Fingers retrace every word
Hunting for the flaw
That tilting error
So many sealed passages
Feeling through awful dark
Is there a hall of answers?
A file for unborn lives?
Pages drenched in should be’s
Maps with no beginning?
Air damp with theories
Stripped naked of an answer
Reverberating cry
Stone walls slow to swallow
Praise the only pathway
Lonely possibility
Powerless to touch the past
Comfort’s absurd conduct