with details of life's blueprints, i and i temple pauses for a second...
upon my hands, this simple truth and reasoning is the deadliest weapon...
the way to walk, the way to live, the way to think in a positive way...
the very definition of freedom, the assurance of love on an ominous day...
i walk, i live, i think, i ponder all things and write words and poetry...
i do things one day at a time, but with spiritual eyes on the end of me...
the very end of all things living, very end of the impossible, existence...
some deny the truth, some deny death, some put up such stubborn resistance...
but as i walk one day, one step, one thought at a time, it becomes real...
i grow older, i try to mature, i pursue all things with passionate zeal...
i develop my identity, i tell everyone the truth, all those who listens...
so i travel on, with my heart, soul, and hands clutching life's blueprints...

-life's blueprints-

desire runs coarse within my veins like family blood synergy...
passion consumes my heart, pumping desire to the rest of me...
visions i breathe, supplying the passion that propels destiny...
i eat the bread of life, all i need to provide me the energy...

-body style-

dont rape my sister, i was born an only child...
she's been my source of inspiration for a while...
she's beautiful in my eyes, she has a fiery heart...
passionate and intimate, she is a work of art...
don't rape my sister, she provides me all i need...
she works with my father, does not feed my greed...
she's always here for me, even before i was born...
i can't see her raped, all down and ragged torn...
don't rape my sister, she's about to give birth...
she is my life and all, she is my sister earth...

-she's my sister-

still meditating on growing into a better man, learning how to forgive...
made of spiteful bursts of anger, now that's a life i no longer live...
i and i temple rises above others, still seeking for that inner peace...
i will find the truth someday, as surely as the sun rises from the east...
this concrete jungle causes a struggle in me i can barely control...
always walking on these treacherous sidewalks wears a hole in one's soul...
but as i once was dying with hatred, now i die with assurance of salvation...
for freedom is achieved with a breath of relief, that is my emancipation...
i no longer conform to world's standard pattern, not in poetry nor my beliefs...
what do you believe? would you die for it? just let your mind conceive...
i soul cries out in anguish for those who don't trust the aftermath of death...
so i deal with my anger before it consumes me until my very last breath...

-growing towards end-

thank you father for being with me through thick and thin...
for carrying me across the raging river of hate within...
for always being one i can run to when trouble arises...
for being an omniscient being, all knowing and wisest...
i'm sorry for drifting away because you weren't cool enough...
it took me years to realize the diamond beneath the rough...
the love you had for me all along, i was too blind, too dumb...
i'm sorry lord for causing the death of my brother, your son...
sincerely, with love, the greatest thanks, your child, joe...

-to my father-

i love the aroma of the city, breathe deep the pollution...
everyone walks with a goal, heading towards mass confusion...
people seek everlasting life, sucking in those cigarettes...
the beauty of sexual lust, give me some AIDS and syphilis...
nightlife is so attractive, slutty girls in mini-skirts...
the city has a life it's own, destructive to this earth...
the wondrous sight of lights, attracting young and reckless...
only my father keeps me strong, even though i am often tempted...
so i will be different, living my life free is not a pity...
i will stay healthy, even while inhaling the aroma of the city...

-aroma-

isn't my memory of love forsaken and gone, for me alone?...
for my soul, for ym heart, for the place i call home?...
why do i ask questions, when i don't want to be answered?...
why do i write these poems when my feelings get battered?...
why don't i ever have any happy moments to reminisce?...
or is it, why do i never express my joy and happiness?...

-a question of happiness-

waves crash, oceans roar, drowning out the noises...
complex pattern of water, nature roaring its voices...
a simple phenomenon repeatings its thunderous applause...
screaming for no reason, a rebel without a cause...
the cycle of living, repetetive style with no end...
eat, work, sleep, from the beginning start it all again...
the slow speed of life, so much faster than it seems...
lying in a deathbed thinking of some childhood dreams...
please tell me i won't fade away thinking of the past...
but no matter what i do, the waves still crash...

-crashing waves-

caught in this maze of clever rhyme schemes...
the power to write anything my mind dreams...
reflect on days when i used to smoke trees...
feelign sorry and crawling on broke knees...
one step out the door into a cold breeze...
still thinking i might have that old steez...
my new self clashes with my past living...
the facade of past sinning fast lifting...
so poetry is my escape from world rhythm...
watching with heart in a curled position...
life travels on, i slow down to observe...
hoping to catch a glimpse of these blurs...

-growing in poetry-

still travelling the same sidewalks of concrete...
the cool, crisp air refresh i as i breathe deep...
unraveling my thoughts as i expand my lungs...
the conscious thought of speaking my two tongues...
in the soft quiet of night, hear me breathing...
in the ruckus of daily life, hear me speaking...
my thoughts dictate the simpleness of life...
but my words complicate the spiritual side...
words are empty but deliver like hollow points...
burrow into braincells similar to roached joints...
another breath, another thought flashed my mind...
but phrases pause at the tip of i, tongue tied...
another breath, refreshing soul and body...
watch my words because only i can watch me...

-breathing words-

as tears stream down my face, i am rejected
everytime i talk to the world, i am dejected...
as tears stream down my face, i meditate...
everytime i talk to the world, i hesitate...
as tears stream down my face, i and i temple...
everytime i talk to the world, i and i mental...
as tears stream down my face, i am expressed...
everytime i talk to the world, i am depressed...
as tears stream down my face, i am grateful...
everytime i talk to the world, i am careful...
like smooth jazz tones that pleasure are tears...
evertime i talk to the world, i face my fears...
my father is all i need, he wipes my face...
i and i temple step towards the worlds embrace...

-tears i've shed-

thousands of words couldn't explain my desires...
my one and true vision, my passionate fires...
if life was easy, i would hardly hate it...
but since life is hard, i appreciate it...
i love this world, yet i hate this world...
i see this life as a curveball hurled...
even if i swing, maybe i'll come up short...
but i want to swing away, but of course...
my swings are no match for this curveball...
cause life is like giving my all to my fall...
but maybe one day, i'll grab that bronze ring...
keep riding it until that fat lady sings...
love this world because i have my own path...
hate this world because i suffer its wrath...
but words upon words can't describe suffering...
just as words deliver the essence of nothing...
but my desires run deep into the core of me...
i speak not for you to seek, but for you to see...

-i emote-

what is the point of this life? aren't i just gonna fail again?...
if the destination seems miles away, does it even exist?...
if my hearts urges seems to put me in compromises, is it still worth it?...
if my actions benefit self, am i still one?...
is i and i temple living life, or suffering it?...
is my walk a simple walk to nothing?...
or is it some journey towards the spiritual plane?...
if i went without words, would i still convey my image?...
would i still be myself in this torturous existence?...
could i portray my mute view and still be me?...
or will i be a mere image of what i used to be?...

-thought of life image-

i speak words for myself, i write poems for myself...
i think philosophy and invision realities for myself...
but im the type of speaker who says what needs to be said...
im the type of writer who believes his poems should be read...
im the type of thinker who spreads his word to be heard...
i believe one's vision needs to be shared to occur...
but what about you? how is your life? what is your vision?...
do you have dreams? or are you content in this prison?...
do you speak for yourself? do you have your own words?...
do you think for self? does your mind soar like birds?...
do you have a vision? do you struggle through this fight?...
but what do i care, aren't i just in this for my life?...

-innermost living-

does my future hold a life of it's own?...
will i tame the beast or live life alone?...
questions i ask, but not solutions i seek...
for i know the answer within me, keep it discrete...
i and i temple, tumble through but give it my all...
but everytime i'm jumping into another pitfall...
one step at a time, but i get so impatient...
one miscue and it's one more situation i'm escaping...
i get mad cause i dont know whats coming up next...
so maybe i should just live life by television sets...
...
but then again, what time would be devoted to god?...
what time for writing? my staff and my rod...
my pen and paper, my mental, my thoughts, my poems...
my mother, my sweet mother, the very image of home...

-reflections in cool, crisp air-

it seems every person puts their trust into one...
whether it be themselves, their heart, their son...
but rather, i put my trust in a different one, one love...
trust is love, love is meaning, the meaning of...
...
well, i don't have answers, but my minds not screaming...
because my life has trust and love, i have meaning...
for my one love states the whole universe as one man...
for we are created equally, all made by god's hand...
so am i to discern or separate, who am i to judge?...
if you and i are equal, if the world and i are one,
who am i not to trust?

-one love, one trust-

it's not as if my life has existed in three dimensions, but if my life has depth...
meaning, reason, purpose, a light at the end of the path towards the embrace of death...
it's not a vision of fear, for i believe in the supernatural, a vision of peace...
a figurative metaphor for i know not, but still envision a light waiting for me...
i and i temple wanders while writing words in phrases that amazes even the skeptics...
a calm moment in a hectic life, a return not so favored, life is just as i have left it...
for i await towards death, but want to live life to the fullest beyond bland simplicities...
i yearn for the earth's embrace but yet i have not reached the moment of tranquility...
when one wizens and the very eyes become as ancient as the days of edens garden...
the calm serenity of one whose seen all the world has to offer and heart hardens...
the world takes i and i temple through a journey so voyeuristic, original yet crude...
when i return to the earth and my father, i know i lived not with a false attitude...

-awaiting-