I
West 168th and Haven,
on a ninth floor balcony,
i watched the sun ignite
the moon lighting fire
to the hudson river.
as it set, i was unable
to control my fantasies
of hanging upside down from the
george washington bridge,
watching the empire state
building dig a hole
in the sky now new ground.


II
her room, a palindrome.
we began where
we ended last,
my tongue drawing
pictures on the
canvas of her neck,
she moans,

"why do you feel so good?"

but this heated moment
would be frozen by the
winds of doubt, i, trapped
in a platonic purgatory--
preferring hell's lonliness--
her legs closed before
the sun rose


III
Central Park West
borders an endless
garden of darknees
in the night.
the wealthy fill
their rooms with light
and books and silence.
my camera runs out of
film. the hike
to East 53rd and 3rd
avenue allows for
mental snapshots of
the plaza hotel and
more taxis than one
block can hold. tammany
hall's open bar
gives my mind enough
spin to glide uptown.
every woman's face molds
into one, and i fall in love
with the thought of kissing
them.


IV
times square is
a whirlpool
for street artists.
movie theatre--empire--
michael moore opens eyes
to the other side of
the truth, the question
becomes "who wants to see?"
a long drag from a square
had my mind walking circles
around West 42nd.
i actually preferred 5th Ave.


V
goodbyes are
empty deaths
full of possibly
living, again.

in new york, again,
i shall live,
swallowing big apples
whole.



***********************************


i love you all

"when my love comes to see me it’s
just a little like music,a
little more like curving colour(say
orange)
against silence,or darkness…" -e.e. cummings


"we are accidents waiting to happen" -radiohead

"Poetry is a kind of distilled insinuation. It’s a way of expanding and talking around an idea or a question. Sometimes, more actually gets said through such a technique than a full frontal assault." -Yusef Komunyakaa

"The Black Artist's role in America is to aid in the destruction of America as he knows it. His role is to report and reflect so precisely the nature of the society, and of himself in that society, that other men will be moved by the exactness of his rendering and, if they are black men, grow strong through this moving, having seen their own strength, and weakness; and if they are white men, tremble, curse, and go mad, because they will be drenched with the filth of their evil."

-Amiri Baraka, from "State/meant" in the essay, "Home"

"My love is my soul's imagination. How do I love thee?...Imagine." -Saul Williams

***********************************
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=500290931


myself is sculptor of
your body’s idiom:
the musician of your wrists;
the poet who is afraid
only to mistranslate
a rhythm in your hair...
-E.E. Cummings

cool, man. there's some great imagry in the 3rd stanza. and this is a good ending:

goodbyes are
empty deaths
full of possibly
living, again.

in new york, again,
i shall live,
swallowing big apples
whole.


soul.

>I
>West 168th and Haven,
>on a ninth floor balcony,
>i watched the sun ignite
>the moon lighting fire
>to the hudson river.

you created a beautiful opening scene to this poem w/^...


>as it set, i was unable
>to control my fantasies
>of hanging upside down from the
>george washington bridge,
>watching the empire state
>building dig a hole
>in the sky now new ground.
>
>
>II
>her room, a palindrome.
>we began where
>we ended last,
>my tongue drawing
>pictures on the
>canvas of her neck,
>she moans,
>
>"why do you feel so good?"
>
>but this heated moment
>would be frozen by the
>winds of doubt, i, trapped
>in a platonic purgatory--
>preferring hell's lonliness--
>her legs closed before
>the sun rose
>
>
>III
>Central Park West
>borders an endless
>garden of darknees
>in the night.
>the wealthy fill
>their rooms with light
>and books and silence.
>my camera runs out of
>film. the hike
>to East 53rd and 3rd
>avenue allows for
>mental snapshots of
>the plaza hotel and
>more taxis than one
>block can hold. tammany
>hall's open bar
>gives my mind enough
>spin to glide uptown.


>every woman's face molds
>into one, and i fall in love
>with the thought of kissing
>them.

i absolutely LOVED this line
>
>IV
>times square is
>a whirlpool
>for street artists.
>movie theatre--empire--
>michael moore opens eyes
>to the other side of
>the truth, the question
>becomes "who wants to see?"
>a long drag from a square
>had my mind walking circles
>around West 42nd.
>i actually preferred 5th Ave.
>
>
>V
>goodbyes are
>empty deaths
>full of possibly
>living, again.

very succinct...

>in new york, again,
>i shall live,
>swallowing big apples
>whole.
>

while reading this i felt as though i was seeing it happen...

*penguin applauds*

www.marlenelillian.com

www.planetcory.com

I could visualize everything happening...GREAT PIECE

There are so many parts that jumped out at me. I wouldn't know where to begin...or even where to end

Just Phenomenal...Morehouse...you NEVER fail to impress me all over again.
____________



"I'm nothing like me..." -KnowOne



"Did he ever say she was beautiful, or was intelligent, or was classy or was…just—-something like me. Ever? I will ask.

I will ask and then one day when I meet up with him I will kick him in the balls. So hard and so swift, just to hear that crushing sound of castration.

Maybe then I’ll be satisfied." -.

The avy: Maxwell, the impeccable.

"as it set, i was unable
to control my fantasies
of hanging upside down from the
george washington bridge,
watching the empire state
building dig a hole
in the sky now new ground"


so yes indeed that was numero uno that I git caught up in...from there on out there was too much...I've read it a number of times today...very very well done

stanzas and all
I enjoy stanzas

amen

"The dark is empty; most of our heroes have been wrong."

i enjoy your grasp of language, man.

truly.

----------------------------------------
www.felinosoriano.com

My chapbook, "Exhibits Require Understanding Open Eyes" available from Trainwreck Press: http://www.ditchpoetry.com/trainwreckpress.htm

this is an amazing piece!! *printing this and putting it on my wall* - if that's okay?...
i was blown away...i expected it to be great, when i saw your name on it, but you never seize to amaze me...
if i'm gonna start pickin it apart and telling you which lines i liked and why i'll be writing for a long time. i only want to mention that the first stanza just blew my mind, and this right here:

>we began where
>we ended last,
>my tongue drawing
>pictures on the
>canvas of her neck,
>she moans,
>
>"why do you feel so good?"

just did it for me...not only is yours one of the best descriptions of intimacy i have ever read, but i felt the line "why do you feel so good?" because i've been there, and you awoke the feeling in me...amazing!!!
everything else, every word, line, stanza, was truly felt at well, i just wanted to acknowledge that part because no one else has yet.
much respect to you, i hope you're finding love and peace in your life,
PetraP

In "ARCHIVES" -- ;^)


It's early yet -- And I have a feeling this pCe may circulate around the board a few times before it's ready to be laid to rest -- But I hope I can get another ARCHIVE request -- Cuz this flow is absolutely wonderful.

I may elaborate on this flow later -- But for now -- ARCHIVE, please! -- *Photo bats eyes & *smiles*

A guitar string vibrating, a measure of my soul, a breech in the silence --
I've always felt like words come through me & I write them down... they have no master --- gsquared ♥

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/2/photosynthesis_music.htm

____________



"I'm nothing like me..." -KnowOne



"Did he ever say she was beautiful, or was intelligent, or was classy or was…just—-something like me. Ever? I will ask.

I will ask and then one day when I meet up with him I will kick him in the balls. So hard and so swift, just to hear that crushing sound of castration.

Maybe then I’ll be satisfied." -.

The avy: Maxwell, the impeccable.

was that you, photo??

***********************************


i love you all

"when my love comes to see me it’s
just a little like music,a
little more like curving colour(say
orange)
against silence,or darkness…" -e.e. cummings


"we are accidents waiting to happen" -radiohead

"Poetry is a kind of distilled insinuation. It’s a way of expanding and talking around an idea or a question. Sometimes, more actually gets said through such a technique than a full frontal assault." -Yusef Komunyakaa

"The Black Artist's role in America is to aid in the destruction of America as he knows it. His role is to report and reflect so precisely the nature of the society, and of himself in that society, that other men will be moved by the exactness of his rendering and, if they are black men, grow strong through this moving, having seen their own strength, and weakness; and if they are white men, tremble, curse, and go mad, because they will be drenched with the filth of their evil."

-Amiri Baraka, from "State/meant" in the essay, "Home"

"My love is my soul's imagination. How do I love thee?...Imagine." -Saul Williams

***********************************
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=500290931


myself is sculptor of
your body’s idiom:
the musician of your wrists;
the poet who is afraid
only to mistranslate
a rhythm in your hair...
-E.E. Cummings

i like how u brought all your experiences together in a "life appreciation" sayounce

somehow, this tells me that you see beauty in everything

or in everything you see a woman.. which to you is equivalent...


i dunno...
i just liked the overall aura of this peice.

it was refreshing =)



-Stephani
www.webspawner.com/users/delicateaurasoul/index.html

www.3kingsmusic.com < for spiritual hiphop
www.enneagraminstitute.com < for self-analysis
www.poetry.com < for haiku's/poetry contest, to copywrite your poems
www.hiphopinfinity.com < an awesome ughh site
I'm a H.E.R.B.
Holotyped Existance
Rhetoric Bound

You have the strength of Beowulf but cripple it because of your affinity for the monster
You have been sustaining yourself on the gruel of self-destruction for so long your stomach rejects the ambrosia of life
While the hero of your mind stands by without action while the monster of your emotions sever friendship like arteries under the knife~PG

"fingertips of sun
trace the edges of this room
I turn my face so
your leaving does not eclipse
your kiss on back of my neck"~Ambergirl

someday I won't have to tell myself the obvious
or pretend to be oblivious
~Robynwildchild

"pain is usually the source of my work. the way i have dealt with mental adversity is by embracing it, and allowing certain ideals to wash over my consciousness so that i could purge my pain."-tek

The new me is like: A woman killed in ruffles; falling to the ground with her hair spread out; her wrist secreting ambiant neon blood
Juggling the moon and stars in palms; with the flecks in the eyes turning globes confetti like yearns of non-existant love...
Running in barefoot brooks; with the moon arching its reflection up the aching backs where he holds onto my hips and sways me
my dreams are:
Renewing again amoungst the mating mossrocks stay satiated coining a pith in a breathy palms; so so sappy drenching dreary destiny to bloody toned walls
my heart calls: callused and waving kites colors hues meshing, please feel me- I'm so-so soft- scratching like cat napes, round and female with sun-dresses blowing passion.. kiss the wind swiveling tears on cheeks, the light beams behind my curls, I pose and bleeeeeeed with pain on my sleeve...
engulf: anger,sadness, happiness changing to squared rolling wheels, penetrate the projections of emotional mattresses... I feel open.. constantly.. dream of my transparent body unzipping my skin and stepping out of me.. and I run to cotton-candy padded fields and glow with bliss, and he will wait with his arms open- like that of jesus and view me- patiently...cuz he knows I tripped on my way there and I'm all bruised... ~ me

the colors were NEVER accurate!and people dont go thru people!


my music:
www.soundclick.com/sylana
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Brb8g8f18xE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NgNuVHrEKI

>I
>West 168th and Haven,
>on a ninth floor balcony,
>i watched the sun ignite
>the moon lighting fire
>to the hudson river.
>as it set, i was unable
>to control my fantasies
>of hanging upside down from the
>george washington bridge,
>watching the empire state
>building dig a hole
>in the sky now new ground.
>

Love your first stanza.... especially the imagery of the sun igniting the moon...I saw colours when I read this.

this piece is New York romanticized at it's best

>II
>her room, a palindrome.
>we began where
>we ended last,
>my tongue drawing
>pictures on the
>canvas of her neck,
>she moans,
>
>"why do you feel so good?"
>
>but this heated moment
>would be frozen by the
>winds of doubt, i, trapped
>in a platonic purgatory--
>preferring hell's lonliness--
>her legs closed before
>the sun rose
>
>
>III
>Central Park West
>borders an endless
>garden of darknees
>in the night.
>the wealthy fill
>their rooms with light
>and books and silence.
>my camera runs out of
>film. the hike
>to East 53rd and 3rd
>avenue allows for
>mental snapshots of
>the plaza hotel and
>more taxis than one
>block can hold. tammany
>hall's open bar
>gives my mind enough
>spin to glide uptown.
>every woman's face molds
>into one, and i fall in love
>with the thought of kissing
>them.
>
>
>IV
>times square is
>a whirlpool
>for street artists.
>movie theatre--empire--
>michael moore opens eyes
>to the other side of
>the truth, the question
>becomes "who wants to see?"
>a long drag from a square
>had my mind walking circles
>around West 42nd.
>i actually preferred 5th Ave.
>
>
>V
>goodbyes are
>empty deaths
>full of possibly
>living, again. <--
>
>in new york, again,
>i shall live,
>swallowing big apples
>whole.
>
>
>

that was beautiful.

The tone, the imagery, the line breaks. Perfect.

2th.

----------------------------------------------

http://fivedeadlyeverythings.wordpress.com
bamf.

goodbyes are
empty deaths
full of possibly
living, again.

beautiful Morehouse. You are amazing. Keep writing from truth... It looks so good on you.

______________________
we must never be frightened or cajoled/into accepting evil as deliverance from evil. - Robert Hayden

wow, was like i was followin you around. Great peice.

Beats to go:

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/0/heatrisingproductionsmusic.htm

This flesh
If not because of this flesh
we could fly in the air
swim through the river
walk under the sea
and soon we would be home
soon we would be home.

"Still

of NY taken with the lens of a pen

preciate it.

ak.

-sig and whatnot-

*shrug*

these is just words b.

_____________________________________

The cry I bring down from the hills
__________belongs to a girl still burning
__________inside my head. At daybreak

____________________she burns like a piece of paper. - YK

..this seethes with the city's vibrations through your eye, I feel like this a lot:

>>
every woman's face molds
into one, and i fall in love
with the thought of kissing
them.<<




"During the day – I swim with Dolphins
At sunset – I sprout wings and soar with eagles & nocturnal owls
And at twilight – I retreat to the safety of Mother Earth’s womb
As Father time comforts & heals Love’s wounds
So once again I can skip across painted poetic stones
Leaving footprints in the bottom of hourglass sands
Rejoice in renewal --
Bow down --
Fold hands --"

--Photosynthesis

http://www.GaryPatrickGarry.com

"I'm stalling in flight
Hovering over horizons
Waiting for night"

"My turn to speak in tongues"
--Photosynthesis

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/2/photosynthesis_music.htm

Maybe after a "View All" -- And another round of applause -- this can be ARCHIVED, huh?

We don't want it to inadvertently FALL OFF yaknow?


~Okie Dokie~

A guitar string vibrating, a measure of my soul, a breech in the silence --
I've always felt like words come through me & I write them down... they have no master --- gsquared ♥

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/2/photosynthesis_music.htm

photo, i love you
***********************************


i love you all

"when my love comes to see me it’s
just a little like music,a
little more like curving colour(say
orange)
against silence,or darkness…" -e.e. cummings


"we are accidents waiting to happen" -radiohead

"Poetry is a kind of distilled insinuation. It’s a way of expanding and talking around an idea or a question. Sometimes, more actually gets said through such a technique than a full frontal assault." -Yusef Komunyakaa

"The Black Artist's role in America is to aid in the destruction of America as he knows it. His role is to report and reflect so precisely the nature of the society, and of himself in that society, that other men will be moved by the exactness of his rendering and, if they are black men, grow strong through this moving, having seen their own strength, and weakness; and if they are white men, tremble, curse, and go mad, because they will be drenched with the filth of their evil."

-Amiri Baraka, from "State/meant" in the essay, "Home"

"My love is my soul's imagination. How do I love thee?...Imagine." -Saul Williams

***********************************
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=500290931


myself is sculptor of
your body’s idiom:
the musician of your wrists;
the poet who is afraid
only to mistranslate
a rhythm in your hair...
-E.E. Cummings

Okay, now I'm INBOXING KnowOne!

A guitar string vibrating, a measure of my soul, a breech in the silence --
I've always felt like words come through me & I write them down... they have no master --- gsquared ♥

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/2/photosynthesis_music.htm

all i could think was, he walked my strolling grounds and we could have passed like most strangers in the street. i saw everything. everything. i enjoyed taking this mental walk through a city it's taken time to love.

peace,

n.

ps are you officially graduated, now?

==================================

"I'm a curbside prophet with my hand in my pocket and I'm waiting for my rocket to come." - Jason Mraz

"Conformity is the refuge of a stagnant mind."