

Evolutionary ProgessDarwin gave me the privilege To proclaim I am the product Of the few, the proud, the naturally selected.Evolutionary Progess
Mutated to perfection,
I am of the deformed delight To give your eyes the viewing pleasure Of fantastic fright.
A simple progression of complicated oppression. Internal and external, I possess it all- My ingenious exoskeletal make And recently reformed spine collaborate And regenerate a life only mutilation can create.
Evolution has let me ride along The genetic drift, a kinetic lift Of catastrophic motion. Whisking waves whisper


An Uprooting in Late DecemberAwaiting my awakening, My phalanges are hibernating helplessly, Buried beneath the brisk snow. And with the mayhem of March Of rebirth from the boring earth, I will emerge ever so eloquently. Fingering my freedom, I am feeling the need to redeem My presence among my blossoming fellows. Eminence is my eloquence -An Uprooting in Late December
Luscious colors of parodist pinks And whisking whites as if to think I am purer than the sheets of snow That smothered me not long ago Before my predicted return.
In the midst of the mating seasons Of species acting on only the reas


Partial AwakeningRays of light flutter and clutter Through the half-open, half-closed Blinds hanging tenaciously and graciously While the world waits impatiently.Partial Awakening
They have served me substantially on
Moonless nights when the city lights alone Were too much for my fragile eyelids To omit on there own.
And when the sun can simply wait No longer to shatter my slumber Those blinds try so hard to shutter-out And shoo-away the didactic luster.
The drifters meander to and fro Beckoning me to come outside and play
Far from the wake of my home To bask in th


Split EndsTwisted, frayed, tangled, and sticky with hairspray –Split Ends
The ends of my relationships intertwine and stray Like the ends of my hair, damaged past the point of repair.
Split but still intact, but they shall never meet back The way they first were. The way they worst were.
Worst, how is that, you say? And I will tell you it is because they knew Nothing of tomorrow, no pain and sorrow Brought on by naiveté, I suppose. Never ready, always petty, and always in vain –
Gestures enough to keep a mad strand sane And the beauty at bay –
Tresses to impress, nothing less &nbs


Infected with sensationsAll of your smooth words become tattooed on my skin, If conversation continues to flow I shall end paper thin. Not a blank page escapes being inked with your tone, Your texture is allowed to fuse deep within my brittle bone.Infected with sensations
Too much more and your resonance will shatter the heart, Joyful exaltations emanate from your home grown apple cart. Do not confuse with original sin at the dawn of time, Harvesting the fruit divulged from your evergreen shrine.
Layered and shaded like a crafted piece of mythology, Infected with desire I am to hear you tell your own chronology. Perf


On My OwnDon’t know what you want from me, I gave you all, that I could be. Not sure where we went so wrong, I pushed too hard, and now you’re gone...On My Own
Our light burned so bright and fast, I should have known, it would not last. Blinded though I did not see, That you and I, could never be...
Would have been so good to you, There’s nothing more, that I can do. Wanted you more than you know, Made it so hard, to let you go...
Say you want to be my friend, This broken heart, you cannot mend. Now I see, this bird has flown, And so I stand, here on
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"A poem is a naked person... Some people say that I am a poet."
- Bob Dylan
and welcome to dA!
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found religion inside myself
i drank the blood, the flesh was stale
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