the sun

[Neruda II]

my mom,
she brought me a rosary
back from Los Angeles
a couple of day ago-
even though she knows
I stopped believing.

There is no reason for it.
The Cross,
it lost itself in the oceanic barbs
of my chest-
while a red headed girl,
an elementary school teacher,
was noisy, drunk and blowing me.

She called me beautiful many times.
Said that my eye lashes
were gorgeous. This person
complimented me
as if I were a woman,
or cared. She didn't know
how perfect my hate had become.
She was unaware of the coyote
that drinks tequila
and eats pussy and howls
empty promises.
She would have let me cum in her
if she knew
I had a girlfriend overseas,
whom I love
and miss so very much.

My girlfriend's name is Diana,
she's very pretty-
prettier than all of the women
who I've fucked.
She's august, and her idea of love
is centuries old. Diana says we are meant
for each other and recites my poetry
from the heart.
She calls me every day before work,
to say good morning,
and that she hopes I have the best day.

The read headed girl is cocaine pale-
and heavy. She's skinny but so fucking
heavy on my chest.
My pants constricted my ankles
and I stuffed myself with rotten fruit.
Seeds of guilt taking root on my chin,
and this insignificant woman
spilled my name into the darkness of 3:14 a.m.
I don't even remember
telling her
what it is.

I'm not faithful,
but I wear this rosary
in hopes that it will change me.
We...
we will always be men.
We will always be coyotes-
scavanging the dessert sands
for a cheap drink and some pussy.
However,
there is a stronghold
somewhere in the ink of my spine,
where I seek betterment.
I hope to wear resolve like
a black eye. I want the world to see
that I've fought for the Hundred-Year love.
For the one who bothers to call-
who's ethereal and brave and who's hair
spins in daylight
like iron tornadoes.

This poetry is history now.
And I'm in my car, hollowing out my promises.
Carving truth from itself.
I watch the winter sun dragged
into the grey of today.
And I can only think.
Diana, sister to the Sun god,
I know you jump rope'd with flames-
but I can't ever let you know
that I'm so much less than I swore to be.
I'm burning to ask for forgiveness.

She'll be calling me soon
and I'll be waiting
in the frost bitten sun.

[spokenoh]

I really appreciate being able to read your work. You are always honest and don't sugarcoat things, even though usually things are more bitter than sweet.
"I hope to wear resolve like a black eye"
I read that line twice because it is something I think about a lot. Life is no sweet peach and being a good person, specifically a devoted one, is hard. I know that you think and experience these thoughts beyond just an abstract viewpoint.
Everything within this was linked together. Ideas weaved together throughout the poem and it wasn't superfluous. In the end, it is about being authentic despite the sacrifices it takes.
We don't chat much and you mostly just post poetry and random outbursts, but I hope you're doing well. I hope eventually I can look at the new fiction section in a book store and find something of yours. I'll say, "Those fuckers. This shit is non-fiction".

Also, this

She's august, and her idea of love
is centuries old. Diana says we are meant
for each other and recites my poetry
from the heart.
She calls me every day before work,
to say good morning,
and that she hopes I have the best day.

[Jamhuri]

Really felt like I've read this before. Dont know if you re-posted it or what.

Definitely very 'honest' as Spoken's said. I value that in poetry. For a poet to say what he thinks, without visible attempts at achieving poetry is very rich. Of course in the end you know you are writing poetry and the reason you put it out here is because you want us to read it, so you have to write for us, in a sense. But yeah, this feels more like sharing than presenting. I try my best to achieve that 'speaking the truth of me to whoever's interested to hear/read' kind of vibe.

Really enjoyed this. idk what more to say about it.

there is a stronghold
somewhere in the ink of my spine,
where I seek betterment.

Word.

[Mantra]

^It's from his PS match with Abi.

I remember you saying somewhere you wanted to bury this but i'm glad it found it's way in here. I wish i had this kind of poetry in me, though it almost feels like for you the fact that it's poetry is the unintentional result. I don't know that i could ever achieve that sort of quality; there's always an unabashed honesty to your writing i really admire. This piece particularly the vulnerability that you show in contrary to your identity and primal needs as a man...it was just really well done.
anyways, i know i don't respond to a lot of your poems, but believe i do read them so you better keep posting shit (that goes for the stuff you're going to write in the league too)

oh and get your links too.

[unadored]

This is fantastic, I liked the way you took the deeply brutal and mixed it with beautiful storytelling. Natural writing taken from topics close to the heart and that's why I enjoyed it. The images you create are great and your wording towards them is deserving.
No wonder it's HOF, very good.

[MuhThugga]

I think the first four stanzas were the best in this piece. While I enjoyed the brutal honesty, I feel that the vulgarity detracted from the piece in certain places. Not because of the vulgarity itself, but because it really didn't add to the piece, and strayed so far from the eloquence found in the rest of the story.

I feel that after the 4th stanza, things began to stray away from the story. I think if you went over the piece again, you would find some fat to trim, and some bones that need more meat added, such as the coyote metaphor.

[Dor_tos]

Its honest and deep. Every word in this poem hits me with emotions. This poem really is a good poem.

[PyroMania]

super dope vocab on point.. dope words.. very deep in the storytelling.. stay up