Bay of Pigs Rough Draft

List at the moment:

Bay Of Pigs
DROWNING IN YOUR SKIN
APOLLO
DEVOE
GOING GREEN
EAT UP
HIPPOCAMPUS
THERE WILL COME A TIME
BOOM
LEFT FOR DEAD
BAY OF PIGS
CLI CHE GUEVARRA
MIND IS HELL OF A DRUG


DROWNING IN YOUR SKIN

trying to burn some time
melting clocks during the dali
daily
he was choked up trying to kill time
drowning in your skin

he found himself, thirsty for self
es steem is a vapor that
your
sweat glands were perfume to

drowning
frenzied gurgle for air
as time gags, grinds stone,
struggle
as if the creation of coal
compacted between two earthy hands

Sprained lives need helping hands
To burn fingerprints off
And get a five finger discount on
Some food for thought

or diluted versions of you liquefy
pretty words that sound poetic
into truths lying in your hands
he bit you
feeding him
you
are of tea and lilly and intention
where he was enthralled to rally
within you
is a fire made of wet logs and soil
that he dedicated all of his dry jokes
to continue your flame
and when you raged
he pulled oxygen from you by
letting his backfires pull from your burn
by pursing his lips
pursuing yours
by catching your tongue and eye
with a walk and kiss
out of sight
is mind out of itself
roaming terraces of thought
wonder
he wandered your skin blindly
with fingers of worry and nail
ease themselves on your collarbones shelf
as if books you read
with your tongue
tied
there are tides of tongues
as waves of greetings
flush in corals and pinks
an auditorium of faces
blush

draped in your skin
he is tightly attached to your bone

you want out of this city
and he wants out of this skin
anxious, he was, there are
closets in his own skeleton
Bodies of work
Words
The need to be let out
let the city burn
skin


APOLLO

I Apollo
The blonde one
I apollo
Gize
It has been quiet time since I quit
Quite some time since I quilted an exit
Drafted a plan through the ceiling cracks
And faulty opportunities you call windows
That don’t seal the zeal
All the presents given from my presence
I creeped too often through windows
And my utilities bills were too much to handle
So I had to skip town for a while
I have been eyeing you
Like self
I-ing
You into a pitcher, pour baby.
Caught like a cause
Full of myself
And I see you hear too
With you I’d last through steel
Steal
I last like the end line
Peeling the paint
I Apollo, even with my light feet
And broken grammar
I cant not catch your upward movement, mountain, peeking
Into tomorrows stanza

Modern day organists play with your heart and mind for tune
i am hear
to sing you a song or propose lyric
as if it were my own
i am here
minus the elusive alliterations
or ill advised tempo in syllable
i am able
to live above that
peeking

who do you turn to for your lost years?
Who owes you?
I spent my life selling your self
In coins and terms
Sorry that
your
shape is hungry
as if contours
of a mouth
were the figure
of you go
figure l write a poem about
you on sandpaper
hoping id not finish
I Apollo
For when I took opportunity
And broke it for you to chew
Poor on food for thought enough to steal
I took off, ran off, with more than you could
Chew

it is the thought that counts
i dont want you to think too much
went into this emotion
where this pamphlet wears words
i have placed in a jacket
wishing to cover you
your touch is of oregano
and hug is built with the same iron
cultures thrive to achieve
in protection of what matters most
intention
you
Signed me in
ear to ear my neck is your baseline
I expected you to write yourself off
Like an approaching due date
I passed by
In a tube of people
Where passage was limited like scriptures
Until a friend of mind offended you did you
Notice it wasn’t me
Who asked the rape victim if they came too
And I paid for their free dom of speech
Now im asking raped minds
When they will come too
Senses
So to speak its no wonder my lines
Are over looked
I Apollo even if you read me wrong

I was reading until i drowned
your voice is captivating
and any other word i could dig
from the barge called thesaurus
would not replicate any characteristic
of the caliber the sound
the taste of your voice is
coalescent
my throat is more thankful than ears
and to you i am all tongues


DEVOE

Follow her lead
Not graphite
Inhale the room
permitting manifestations or projections is
a guided sense a flock of curtains
steering your room as a ship in a sea of novices
Since leaders position with poison
She has halved her poems into understatements
And metaphors as such you don’t understand
Or feel left out of
We don’t want a direct connection but rather
A correlation of inspiration
Lets not get causal

she sought redemption in unlearning taught images
mental perception of failed synapses
a trek from the save heavens of knowledge
to a betrayal of ignorance
where word choice is a stubborn sort of feeling
to know is a stubborn sort of feeling
you are set like a chess match and
you feel creative when you build
others ideas and paths
folly is the safe thought that you
made a new route follow
on land that was there regardless
only matter is being refocused
only atoms shifting
and only your focus, matter, your drives and fears. refocused
she didn’t intend to build or shift
for creation
she intended to create from textures prisoned in her personality
and refused to take anything from this failed fortress of letters passed down as a weaving
their language is not the luggage she took with

she never called on level
or structures branching for motivation
to pursue hearts
she walked over a family trees root
in which engraved are statements not
of moss or growth but of stone and other
solids of cessation, end, a holding point
step
firmly over and walk away
from apples and their inscriptions her
duty to intention is more rewarding
that the shade of inherited idea, language or patterns thereas
poison


GOING GREEN

I’m out wiring limes
With explosive tongues as if
Speech could change a man
Pirates
In Somalia have only one thing in common
Peace
I would rather march in every month
Then my make difference
In my size t shirt
I want to make similarity instead of
A difference in this world
Is
Setting on the mind like scalp
End

Uppity people always are looking down at me
I am down stares like nose
With pushing poetry to the people
By any verbs necessary someone else noted
In adjectives they trust
I rust
Not rush with speed but decay at eas
See does it, sight does it, it’s the eyes
The letter shaped up like a column
Solumn, the self that keeps me down stares
Whos knows it’s I
the mind has quite a leash on the body
Lease at least
there are fields of umbilical chords
replacing
fields of coral
going green never was so bio illogical
language was novel now a navel
we are attached to by
writing
the human element and indelible mark on
conveying and storing information
has turned on us into a reductive
burden of intelligence
a constraint of anecdotal frays retying themselves
to another’s nerve cells for their regard
speaking through our garments and armament
they push the buttons and sew what we reap only to wear, where
language is the only novel
i want to read

Communicating with whisper is all I want to do is
Use words noosed in my vocal chords
While my mind wanders in the mire
I found the outlet to plug and chug poems with
Picking apart the leftovers in trashcans
Another mans failure is my progress
Ion
Charged like a scrunched brow without the sound
Yell
Ow the pain of whispers rushing for decibels
Where juxtaposition is a sexual stance and not juxt a phase
My life has so much listen but not enough talk
Im in the kitchen of my heart making beans with a lisp
Growing stalk for jack to storm up
Structures in setences happening now to catch up to uppity people
Frown
Is the shape of my tra jectory
Whining, mario, super
Honk if you feel the scream now going green around your
Throat choke
Heavy headed at the top leaning pisa
Piece of perversion is the lost key to locked words
I ab use I use abs to for lifelines to write about death on
In chalk and syrups the combinations of wire, lime
Please
Understand the last stanza
You didn’t and wont now go

run in circles and cycles like a step line
i will always stay out of line
trying to get a head
on my shoulders with ichobods heart in my palm
at the end of the fight
i grow you circle, plural, circles
for
cash crop

going green rotting
writing lines of poverty
you move in circles, cyclical squares its why
i wire limes
im going green in the face
asphyxiated on being different
I can’t feel my face being
So choked up

i am down stares like nose


EAT UP

I wish your will was as strong as your won’ts
Please put your hands into the fire
Brother I am burning to talk to you
Face to
Face your issues with friendship at your side your
Family is blood on hand
Wash what you say in care
When that blood is taint a noose

It’s a dog eat dog world out there and im
Only trying to be humane about this
Your desires are fraternal
Groups define you
And knowing more about others
Prohibits you from knowing yourself
You will always be someone else
Yours truly

he wrote this low on my stoop, to self, to help
low to remind himself of the hire learning
in the recession
progression is key he tumbled in the lock
school is prison he was the chiasm locked into crossing over
the light enlightenment isn’t learning your
teachers agenda it is your own
you own your thoughts or you can keep
paying drexel to come to terms
carpeting your speech like tastebuds
you carpool with thought
same place same pace same face
you all look alike

insert squares stanza

its so easy to forget the low while on top of
an SUV with a cloth over some words
drenched and burning to explode
he had hand it to you

Now he’s
crying with a pack of wolves about this
stopped sleeping with the sheep
-dirty practice that is
letting your self get comfortable
just to watch comfort walk all over you
lethargy is our generation
with a smile
he watched less talented individuals garner position
inept and unable to score
creativity seems to be in the eye
of the coach at hand he bitched via bottled words
he was beat
in dull drums
it all sounds the same to an untrained ear
listen to me please
he ran out of food for thought
Leaning on the steps to recovery covered in your skin
Hungry
Spending life online with opposing nouns on the other
Line
Of poetry you eat up inhale insert
Hear
No eval u ate some of the worst art
You’re sick
Like the rest of them

he was different like contrast
contract sign hear with ears
write me of shoulders
shrug my wait, wait,
now he is heavy on your mind
watching you settle lower like suns
through the eyes in the back of my hand
for poetry where the line is kinda long
you really want that
wait

he is about to go in like Nixon and
you have no voice in the matter
you use another’s tongue to confess the ills
concerns
idiosyncrasies
structures of social fabrics a poetically transmitted infection
which casts individuals into the same mouth you
leg at to get out of your chest
emotion
great minds think alike
weak minds use the same mouth you
eat up


HIPPOCAMPUS

i keep hippos incase cripple hands
try to be cortical of my pen strolls
tourettes is the shake hemming my
pages together
and i wonder if my words can shake up
a mass of wait
suspend suspense in a new
formula of anxiety disorders to watch the staged set
my conduct is not conducive
I lay out my palms as blueprints my
Lifelines are the endlines people sprint to
Catch me if you can with
This amount of evidence
Carved from my tongue

i have vains which there is a need
for a heroine
to recant my original blood flow
and supersede my anatomy
or recede my
sure
lines
build buildings and tackle cities
i draw lines on water
because writing ills in sand for wind
to blow away is not quick enough
to beat the haunting image i tried to
push onto you reader
i house celestial beings in my apt
with the summation of prices from suns
left to rot in this space I have to
pay for the light that inspires
the city to glow in dim hours
in which leasing out that glitz i ask
for rent you are paying me little mind
i am asking for hearth
ember
blush
when in rome, burn it down

i roll up papers like a forehead
just to wipe up some of the shit
that comes out my mouth
is just a noose sometimes
nuisance
i can choke you up with honestly
or hang low with the cool
or loosen grip with a calm word
or string up fallacy with a
puppeteer tongue
puppy faces plus feces
is equivalent to the process
it all adds up i am alge
growing on your rock bottom mind

i carved my tongue so
the sour and bitter taste buds are missing
and all i eat is your sugar and carbs
burn quick and forever
so i may never fail by following your route
taste into your speech
as cannons
the only canons I want to hear
pierce desolate air with silent progression
its growth traverses forms of space
carried by a ventricle of word
travelling as an exhale among roots
your sweet words only price desolate air
letting me buy
rent
Its only a matter of mind before the times fight back


THERE WILL COME A TIME

She didn’t know what parenthesis or period she should
(yo)use to be punctual
her timing was off and she could
you
lend me a moment
my coup is running late
Its easier to believe something that inn someone
it seems

Terrors
Brought by tongue where promises rest
And propositions or phrases statements
The pen isn’t in cheek
It is where the actions pass, tense
Ready to revolt if sniffed out
Ready to halt armies of arms in a grasp
It is in the hand

You are gravity the pulled on her strings
Pinocchio heart even if she lied
Down
On the ground as a giant tied by your tongues
Strings, roped down
With sheets of music and penned poems
she only used the graphite to portion
My movement to
You
War is the only answer
Half the battle is complacency
In love and war
Ing
Words
She threw lines of hope out to help
Give her a padded room
Small window of opportunity
And there will come a time that
she hurts you to free myself
Keys open jaws

Sometimes you write yourself a reminder
A time capsule of emotion or a mine in mind
Either you know that a storm is coming
Or a drought
And you pursue that last meaning
That glance out the side of a bus
Knowing the chances outweigh
Choices
O ever returning
You never return
Your body ages to the piano
Which strings may need to be tuned
Replaced yet you never hit the same key
On the car paint to etch those letters in
Which seemed to be in the right order
Along with the guidance of stars and not so very
West coast
Yet you travel there now

There will come a time when touch loses feeling
And sounds forget pitch and taste becomes redundant
And character cannot be defined
When there is blur there is this
Water behind her kneecaps

And with the big hand no longer on the clock
It is on her neck tugging jugulars
Asking me for change

fathered time, gestation of thought,
may i have a minute
she is confined to an assortment of lines
of times
of minds
and while occasions rise and bubble
There will come a time
Bomb



BOOM

The towers fell
block by blocked esopoghus
choking condos in canto
you wanted out the city
i wanted out my skin

I am not on the same level like story
As before the
Spilling sons or dropping eggs
Easter festering in the trashbag
abortion
Hold your head with your hand high
And jump
fall with the falling buildings
and sleep with the city tonight
boom

I do not care anymore for regards
The word that connects entities with sympathy in garments
I execute plans to destroy whole cities
One word and it works every time
Arc
Rise and decline frown at me
Meet me at your waist
The beltway to your hearth
I spent my life selling your soul
The body of this work can be found
Underneath some beltways like priests
its always jack in Philadelphia.
boom

How to destroy a city
Its fairly easy if you have an open
Mined
Explosive
Hide its backbone to
Peel its spine
Tie its vocal chords
Its news old
Its landmarks marked religious
Its people different
Quickly
As to not let it leak into
The next generation
Have a piece of mind
Boom
I do not want the circulating newspapers you are the squares I bitch about
On corners where if you take the same angle
You’ll have the next corner saying the same
Swagged up lines parallel to another
Lining me up to believe that the whole city is
A nutty bunch of squares going in circles
Each turn, same angle, what a shitty flush
Of emotions where the pavement is liquid
And the liquor is the grown folks version
Of where the wild things are
Is where your world of words is not
You are the ribbon in the sky
Never a dermital line like life
Left on skin as a reminder that death is the
Only thing promised
And this murderer structures shapes to get
Lost in you
Are the mapping function unlike our stars
We follow today taking us the same places
With even the same stages of faces
You are process, they are poets.


why have philadelphia
when i want is a world of words

Boom.


LEFT FOR DEAD

He was in the morgue dying to be somebody
When he realized he was a no body
Spirit flavorless like sprite
Rolling off your tongue like sweat
Salt
Saw to bone I saw you
To the bone eyes plural columns on the page
I
Braced myself for the beating matter
only to insure he lives
i figure changing lives keeps mine
and if the next poem isnt better than the last
that might be his last line
life is a deadline of poetry
he wrote life lines
if you are here for a purpose
then stay useful
Forgetting beasts and bellies
he has a closet of skeletons in bone marrow
A consortium of rotting bodies of work
Inside his frame
Of reference you will not find a list
Of quotes of others where quotes
Never really lets you get the full story
As if the bodies to come on beaches
Had biographies as thick as stones
Or the sands
Whereas, humans, are not even a freckle
On the face of time

death art and sport have on strong commonality
opportunity
none need talent
or motive
it is all a matter of timing and eyes with shoulders
to give you that lift
shrug for a no or now is the who and we are the past
he was the future
dont mistake any of my opinions for truth
Because there’s a few versions of that
truth I speak of like
who we have touched

don’t tell me how to live my life
die


BAY OF PIGS

Invaded bays
Pools of waiting grounds where thoughts rest
On the sands turned into glass instantly
Where it all could be seen at one visit
All thoughts as one bound book of
Translucent glass and water
Clearly
Like the waves of glass and structure of rotting
Bodies of work
It was time to break

swimming in thought
see
I went through a lot
Where was a car when you needed one
just lines lined up like
Floors and floors or revolution
Where colors clash grey areas
Like a poem,
The colored clouds in my throat
Form the nooses around my vocal chord
I went green dying to speak so
I poked a hole in it with a pen to let our the pent up lot
Slouching to bend characters
I was
Penning out poems from my throat
I hold back words of works with my tongue
Bodies
Drown
Lines and lines of waste in waves
Breaking

I look different
Wearing a jacket made of self awareness
Its easier to see the same set of actions
Could destroy inner harmony
Art has been reduced to dry humping
And pick up lines
I write off instead of quick get offs
Blue balls point pen
If all you have is quotes
How many stories tall do you stand?

I have this
lot penned up insight
fuck you and yours and yours and you pen
now have me penning
in exile around isles of condiments
your with the warfare in isles of condominiums
isla never
where you crash into me with
sure yet never follow tied
tongues and tungsten lights
lit my rage
i refuse to let myself stand
for you to push my image
make my history fabric
i stand a man as any other
not through monuments of cloth
or stone or image
i stand a man not through dates
or personage i stand
for someone, my self
whereas you stand for something via someone else.

the man with the bullet tongue
Poisoning your fantasies
It is understandable how you can sit in
Protest a pro con fissional
I must say you have my BLANK as a sparrow
Between the palm of a jet engine
And once you ruffle my feathers know
I will take you down
You can still count on me
Revenge is a narrative of my life in which
I asked micheal bay to help direct
We had a bond like james
Im guessing the market fell through the street
Blue
But then again it doesn’t matter to you
And your opinion doesn’t matter much
To anyone so its equal

i woke my neighbor one night
bleeding thunder
the consolation for parting skin of penned poems
at least the way my cells will celebrate it
is a retaliation of thunder
a roaring remark to harsh accusations
leaving no statement or inquiry alike
room to debate honor or intention
i plan to wake you too
never to heal myself for this thunder
rolls on a wave of tongues
as far as the mind can see
drowning in revenge

you tampered with the cover of the see
breaking winds every so often
with a gasp
like film on teeth i brush past you
and with
the stare of a lawyer the focus of a madman
just when I get up for air
Something is pulling me back
Noose


CLI CHE GUEVARA

Condense
Sation
with a mouth for eyes
Watering
She has
Hardly been outside herself for days
Yester nights sunset wore away
Like clothes
Curling into the air feebleminded
Controlled by winds that win
She was panning plans
Note, booked, I Rachel McAdams
Sunrise sunrise
Tearing into you as a silent moment
Disturbed as if a pretzels crunch
I glance on the line, sky
Swallowed her
As she tears into you
Like a silent moment
Change always had the lower hand
To a fate faked
I see her in puddles now
Two of a
This kind of thing
Happens
Once every
Never
She was not going to right you
A inner war of words
As blank lions line up on pages
Backed up for miles of songs
And sonnets and essays
And she said this is too much of a
Wait
Here comes the curb
Pursuing as if a “register to vote yet?” person:
It breaks
As hearts do
in to conversations
in two
concentrations
one focus is shouldered into the curb
who is to say
which direction is up
yours
maybe
this decision was a mistake
probably don’t care what life she had to
take
thieves of pursuit snatching abstract
ideals
of time
instead of object
ifying you
the difference is second to
thought
passing by between scrapes
of knees and skies
reflections in and of themselves
point to liberty
then again
maybe this decision was a
liberation
cli che Guerra

You are
Just not enough skin to take cover under
Everything is to be razed
Lobe to lobe
In a savage combination of tooth and flesh

the final shot
of sky
turns the throat
as a sigh combines with a
she rolls
she sighs(ed), up the situations sometimes
Time
Is absent in the ascent
Things are different, like an accent
Cli che Guevara


MIND IS HELL OF A DRUG

hears to high treason and a sentence about prison

I was writing a paper in FML citations
Of others words because it takes one
What a steal
Two books and three pens ago
Two friends and three days ago I was just
Producing bodies of work
Pygmailiaon-esque is sculptures of words that
Vultures pry to pick at
Trying these sentences in open court
Guilty till proven inspiration
-Al, all you know is what I tell you like a poem
So on and so on I go like soon
we all die in a succession of selves,
As if from a time when man made clocks,
to where clocks make men
you are not who you were a minute ago

i am not on the same level like story
tell me a tell all
draped up self pity and awareness
choking on vomit upstairs
where are your friends to bail you out
of yourself
in a house you built out of your fathers remains
to remain in his thought forever
what a waste of history your endorphins have become
pay the top bill some mind
veto
i will forbid god in the race of saving you
the price on your head i have tagged
while searching files of destructive instructions
i will get to you before the devil will
I’ll give you three Mississippi’s before I draw
now dream

my life will be the death of me
as theirs were
our rotting bodies form parties of political thought
poetry
that’s why
I don’t write poems with words or sounds
Its just a bunch of obscene gestures with my tongue
I know my destination

with mortar speech I feel late on the metaphor
it hits you just the same
imprisoned
We all die in the end
Ruined or not

The mind is a hell of a drug