These are all poems that I have posted on a myspace blog (http://blog.myspace.com/prince_endearing) go see the blog for more I didn't post. Otherwise, they are unpublished.

11 Feb 2007
I'm a Tranny


I'm no poet,
But all off these things here, a
Transcendental
Mass of queerness.
I'm no Christian,
But I drank your blood tonight,
Transubstantiated
Into a cheap bottle of wine.
I'm no Buddhist,
But I felt suffering tonight,
Transcending
Ink and paper in a love letter.
I'm no Muslim
But I witnessed annihilation tonight,
Translated
Through lines of a poem.
I am no Jew,
But I felt injustice tonight;
Transilluminating
My inability to thank you rightly.
I am no Hindu,
But I revered multiplicity tonight, it
Transmogrified
The way my eyes see the world.
I am no man,
But I felt my power tonight,
Transmission
Caused by the power of will.
I'm no woman,
But I felt creative tonight,
Transforming
My body to create more life.


10 Feb 2007
Love Song

I am drowning in a river.
I am drowning with you, tumbling,
In the churning of the water.
No, wait, it's you churning the water,
Turning the rapids around me,
And bearing me to the calm ocean.
I can no longer breathe, the rapids
Have filled my body from my top
To my toes with the whirling
Soothe of your fresh waters.
And inside of me: my heart,
Has stopped. It's blue and chill
And through my veins courant
Oceans and deltas and
Dewdrops and rainfall and
Rivers that lead from you back
To you into and out of
You, surging and streaming
With forces of tides and the
Pull of the
Moon.

I am down in the depths of the ocean.
It is dark, and because I am drowned,
I feel there is no cold here.
Nor love of the life I have lost,
Nor want of the things I can't have.
And as my body dissolves
In the water like steam
In an oven, I rise up
Leaving the ocean of
The large vastness of

L'envie, le voleur de ma vie, de l'amour.


31 Jan 2007
Gravity

I have a propensity to live with intensity.
What lacks in immensity, is made up in density.
A lense sees through itself to see life in the city.


25 Jan 2007
i imagine myself an imagist

The sounds of quiet conversations on noisy busses:
Pale stars bespeckle black night.


15 Oct 2006


alphabet soup et al et al

F



F is for fool.
A night ridden mule
On the side of a canyon
That leads away from the school.

Upward he rides
Climbing razor sheer sides
Of the canyon that leads
To lions purring in prides.

He rides. They wait.
Neither aware of the date,
For their minds are too riddled
With the things that they hate.

Like hunters and
Poachers, buildings so grand
That they hollow their insides
So their outsides can stand.

As he got near
The night rider could hear
The sound of the lions' sweet purr
And he was struck not with fear

But he halted.
Dismounted, buttered and salted
His bread for his very last meal.
He chewed, swallowed, and looked up insulted

That clouds covered the skies
Not a moonbeam nor sun reached out to his eyes;
Like god had decided to sleep through the night.
But he was just one man, one solo man dies.

He couldn't turn back,
Due to falling off track,
The crumbling cliffs left no regress.
So onward and forth to the lions' attack.

He said good day
To his mule, the mule said, "Bray!"
Afraid that his fate would follow the fool
Who shouldered his pack and entered the fray.

What a great sight
To see a lion so bright
Glowing with daytime and glory
And ferocious teeth bared, glaring might.

The lions awoke,
If the fool could have spoke
He would have said to the cats,
"Pussens, you are awesome, no joke."

Death must be sweet,
Who really knows, too discreet.
The fool shall remain a fool.
Walking by, the lions all licked at his feet.




V

V stands for Vanity.

You knew it was coming,
You didn't want to admit that it's numbing
To look in the mirror when you're out on the street.

What you see (I)s what (I) get.




G

Garuda is a birdman,
A ferocious phoenix with teeth.
He has been decapitated,
Stuck to my wall like a specimen.
Can he fly without his wings?
Well this version never had them,
I lied to you
He never was decapitated.
Instead he never had a body,
This Garuda.




P

If I were a sinister person,
I would say that storytelling
Is a sort of mind control.

But I'm not, so I say it
In silly little poems
Like this one.

13 Sep 2006

"Sick Sonnet #2"

We have right here a poseur's composures
A cry in the night, "Make me the cynosure
Of everyone's daydreaming parody."
Despairing up where a reality's barely
The figure, mutant more like what it is,
Of life as we see it, no hear, no His
Idea is senseless, really defenseless
Confronted once, two times it is countless
The ways you can poke holes in the fabric
Of sensation in careful oration.
This country is falling to syllabic
Confusion by intrusion of scansion
And semantic obtusion, oh it's sick,
This verse, that is, it's a/dirty trick.



"R"(iddle)

What are you?
A symbol.
A letter.
Five of them in my case.
But that's just the beginning.

Alltogether there's seventeen in me.


"S"

An ess is half an infinity sign,
An eight it is with a connecting line.
Regardless whether it's hate or its wine,
I really consider it all just de vine.


30 May 2006

The Gambits of Celestial Bodies

The sun rises, the sun goes down.
It burns my skin while it tans me brown.
I close my eyes, then open for moon to see,
some look for in the sun that's not lunacy.
I think, thank the sun seers for braving
the brunt of the fiery orb's craving
to burn the flesh and roast and
fuel and inspire creation for this island
out in space. The moon I think is just
as vital as the sun, be it a rock or dust,
whirling about the earth and sun without
the trace of ocean, grass, or rainbow, trout.
It brings some sun around in the cool
lightless hours sometimes and has its pull
on earth's great oceans. Earth is some like seventy
percent water. I've heard like counts for you and me.


15 May 2006

Reassigning Colors

green is the color of love
yellow the shade of the brave
red is the color of death
purple for robes of the slave

orange is great when you're sad
blue is a shade to make glad
brown atop heads for a crown
black the blank page of a pad

whiten your shame and your scorn
pink for a baby boy born
rainbows are no one's to claim
colors don't know they adorn

More alphabet soup

"t"
Tea time is the time my mother made me time,
and plied me with treats, I'm a sucker for sweets.
But now it's just free time for me and effete rhymes
and now when we meet I have written to greet
her with ink of my pens that I've dragged out with my mind
from lectures and novels and coffee and sweets.

"x"
X is something that can stand for nothing
but if something were nothing
then nothing is something
I'd rather leave
unthinking;
mystery
me.

"d"
Dads and sons and cads and bums and
plaids and plums and fads and nuns and
lads and sums and grads and guns and
sands in lands uncleaned by one man's sundry hands.

"o"
O mortal you poor and bodily portal for
Immortal worries plaguing your kind,
Eeking out arguments on existence and mind.
You trouble yourself seeking too much to record
A-mortality is nay too hard to see,
Why don't you look through dark to be?


14 May 2006

"C"

Take a mirror and the letter C,
place their cusps at a ninety degree.
A bit like a circle, to complete three,
they stand and reflect unknowingly
an O or a U and a C, there's a sea
of possibilities, just choose one to be.


"E"

E is for wisdom, it fell on its backside,
legs kicking the air, not thinking, it cried,
I'M THE MOST COMMON LETTER IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE!





13 May 2006

"B"
Breadth is depth turned on its side.
A deep breath blown both out and wide.
High plunging drop or slip-n-slide.
It's all the same, a wild ride.



12 May 2006



The Elephant Makes Me


Im going to my favorite playground,
the one with the totem pole on the street,
The animals have smiles too big
for their faces and
big white teeth.

The dentist plied me with gifts and pictures,
promises of prizes after he poked my gums and
legal drug use.

My name is there at the front desk
And my mommy signs me in
Next to the fishy tank where they swim around and around.
I turn and run into the room where moms and dads
Sit reading newspapers and books. I like to jump around
On the big stuffed dogs and gorillas in the corner.
Theyre fun to hug and punch.

Once my father told me a story about his dentist.
He got to the office one day to watch the doctor
and his hygienist wife snort coke off a filing cabinet.
They were getting ready for his checkup.


I hear my name,
and that means I get to see my favorite animal.
The elephant is my favorite animal Ive met there
yet, I only get to see his nose.

Last night I watched my friends play like clowns
with big red balloons. Elephants and clowns
hand in hand, red nose in trunk to the circus.

Like gnome kisses
we rub our noses together and I breathe
his breath, like the lady says, slow and deep.
I sound like Darth Vader, breathing loud.
His white trunk lays across my face,
his breath is dry and cold and thick
and at first it makes me sick to breathe his funny breath
but I lay suuUUUper still ill ill
ill while the elephant gets to work.

They cracked open little silver bullets that shot
their contents into the balloons, then they let the
contents
seep into their lungs and flood their brains and
stretch their smiles wide.


He makes me so happy, my elephant friend,
MY SMILE IS TOO BIG FOR MY FACE
he makes everything funny
feeling, ssSS A O W NNNnDING ding ding!
like there are UFOs! Ooh,
I think Ill wiggle my toes,
I forgot about them in my shoes, so still
when I dont think to move them.

I sat on the couch frowning, imagining whats not
going on
inside their heads. Wiggle your goddamn toes! I
said,
but they giggled instead.

The elephant must have great big lungs but
he cant blow his funny breath forever.
When he runs out theres only normal air.
The UFOs go back to space without saying goodbye
and I think that my toes are just toes.

The balloons go flaccid, my friends moan instead of
giggle.

Boring toes and no UFOs.
Warm wet air clears away elephant breath.

They sit down next to me, I ask them, How did it go?

My big smile is tired, stretched too big for too long
and then someone takes his trunk off my nose
and I dont have to sit super still
and I run to my mommy so we can go home.

One says they forgot who they were for a while.
Another, the sounds the colors!
They all agree it was hilarious.
You should try it!

I smile to show her how cavity free
the elephant makes me. And I tell her,
They gave me the gas again!

No thanks, I already have too many cavities.


Theres something funny about this honey
a sonnet

Honey, like honey I stir into green tea,
honey, to make the taste a bit more sweet,
your bitter teas are always making me
think, this is the last time we should meet.
Your honey eyes are sweet, they call me back,
they make our rotting world look better.
These days your honey colored eyes are black,
your pupils grow to see the dark forever,
the honey of your eyes is pushed aside
to let in every color, ecstasy.
The lines are drawn, I see them whip your hide.
This is not honey I stir in my tea,
its bile. Vile, sick and acid to the tongue.
Youre the one dying, but Im the one hung.

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