Intake my views, digest and entertain your cosmic charisma without any

inhibitions. In the future will the survivor still need sunrises and poetry?

In case I make you forget and if so please tell your friends

Here is one of my favorite eerie lines ..."Even a man who is pure at heart and says his prayers by night may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright ..." The Wolf Man, by Curt Siodmak. Siodmak sees the Nazi swastika rising like the moon and good men, with the best intentions, who were pure in heart, could not stop themselves from behaving like an animal. That is why I find this line so riveting. Can we control our behavior? Can we move nations with empathetic words? Can we splash colorful language that is vivid and clear? Can we paint emotional attributes and see the human side? Can we stare at the full moon and let beauty seep into our pupils? What and who are we to have such a savage history? Controlling behavior starts with sharing the language. We are more than a blade of grass, in our quietness, and without any guarantees to change one needs to begin with a journey. If it transforms you then it will be an odyssey, if you embrace its humility you will be less than a God - you will be noble.

I take a novel approach with poetry. Rules, stinking rules, I got no stinking rules. I make my own rules at least I think there mine. My poetry is very diverse with a genre: that takes the complexity via simplicity and unfolds its mysteries. In my poetry you can sense the attributes of: soft, hard, polish, brash, gorgon, beauty, romantic, sexual, erotic, dark, angelical, faith, pagan, vulgar, surreal, real, unreal, off beat, off the wall and outlaw.

Don't think I disregard the great poets. I have high esteem for there work. But I'm writing poetry for people who never likened to poetry. Most people shy away from such rich entertainment. Perpetual avoidance is a social shame reinforced by the immutability. I believe my style can tap the masses. My work will liberate mainstream quietness, destine to detour from vanities of expression. Mark Twain wrote for the masses and he knew he had the right stuff regardless of critiques about his, "lack of elegant writing." If I make waves and rock you from the doldrums with kinks in your grin then so be it. I'll take you here and take you there beyond the invisible solids. Walk about twirl around, soar up high and look upon the landscape. Possible paragons of wide peripheral splash paint, endless hues unfold. When you’re done you'll know you’re not done, left with an insatiable craving that moves to the sweat spot of humanity. Each line high tides to exploration layered in spiritual mantra set to born the miraculous fire storm. When the Phoenix rises my quill will soar and then I'll take my seven figures in a pot of chuckles. If they sing songs of me then my purpose has the greatest meaning and I'll bask in the fields of immortality.

Poetry readers ,  poertry avoiders ...

Let us co join the art of language