what did i ever do
ever do ever do
to justify
a black black sky

what did i ever do
ever do to you
to justify
this black black sky

i wish it would rain

yes poetry and music and art
are they the end or are they the start
bring yourself to the salon and see
who you are and who you soon will be

radiant blues:

if you cant be happy for me, go away.
if you can be happy for me, come and stay.
just dont let your shit get the hell in my way.

lots of work, lots of joy
lots of people to employ
house and garden must be right
lazy people out of sight

the ups the down the all arounds
the ins the outs the what abouts
the yess the nos the where to gos
the what to dos and what to knows
have crowded up my crowded mind
and bound my peace into a bind

we were friends on the bus

before bodies were a thought

just the cuddling smoke of two spirits

and we will be again

so if today

you in your painted shoes

and i in my tattered shirt

do not sit together on the bench

the bus will make another stop

and another

until we finish our homework

and pull the cord

exiting like lovers

hand in wispy hand

to the grand street park

to play

the heart is cold 
the house is hot
so much of what
is what is not

time to sleep, time to dream
time to join the fairy team
leave this world far behind
leave the ones who are unkind

someone else will be proud
and living on a cloud
holding you in his arms
kissing all of your charms

what a day, o what a night
what a darkness, what a light
now i lay me down in bed
halfway from alive to dead

im only a paper moon
sailing over a cardboard high
but it wouldnt be why o why
if you believed in me

now i lay me down in tears
always short a couple beers
if i should wake before i die
bring me cake and chocolate pie

now i lay me down to cry
turn mine eyes unto the sky
wailing gnashing why o why
why o why o why o why
why o why o why o why

rough draft:

will you write
a poem for me?

will you stay
the rainclouds on the hill
stay the rain itself
and write a poem
for me?...

will you hold
the door
hold the home
open
where humble afternoons
reside
where quick hello-goodbyes
have time
and write a poem for me?

I will linger on
the front porch
or the back porch
a breath of
jasmine or basil
betraying my secret
self

the rocked becomes
the rocking
the rocking
becomes the rocked

and when the day is done
with just a sweater
on your shoulders

when the circle of
the year
finally finds an end

will you find a song
among the silly and the wrong

and write
a poem for me?

rewrite

it is far too early
in the cycle of the year
for the sunny air to carry
the scent of basil

and yet it does

the garden beds and boxes need
a healthy dose of water
every other day
when rain should be performing
the routine of our work

i am not ready
for the fullness of the orchard

for the ripeness

the overcoats and sweaters
have just been stored
and the rugs still need to be rolled

it is far too early in the cycle of the year
for the starry air to carry
the scent of jasmine
and yet it does

and i am unprepared
so unprepared

for the harvest

if the figs ripen early
they will finish early

and the winter will be long

http://royanthonyshabla.com/books.html

first draft

it is far too early
in the cycle of the year
for the night air to be filled
with the scent of jasmine

and yet is

the garden beds and boxes need
a healthy dose of water
every other day
when rain should be performing
the nature of our work

i am not ready
for the fullness of the orchard

the overcoats and sweaters
have just been stored
and the rugs still need to be rolled

it is far too early in the cycle of the year
for the sunny air to be filled
with the scent of basil
and yet it is

and i am unprepared
so unprepared

if the figs come early
they will go early

and the winter will be long

moon poem:

only the heart bleeds

only the eye
is eclipsed

Why I wanted to about who to where also to after so more people agreed that on are not about has where also not to has such on didn't people will speaks I not knows Courtesy not knows grateful didn't thought I of did on to once not about a a people to a a place and was defines Ah I and not hate he just didn't want to about just does all I didn't about of people are should hate I heartless did killed small's dry 

this is my found poem, a collaboration between bing translate and Yerri José Frankie Chespi

no it was not rape
but it was not love
do drunks remember
if one wore a glove

i went outside to look at mars
there arent many stars tonight so it was easy to find
blinking red and somersaulting like van goghs dream
i may need to have my head examined
or my eyes