hello, my name is

i’ve lost myself.
there’s nothing left.
it’s all gone.

hello, my name is pen.
the mellow fellow with no opinion.
that’s right. not a fight under my belt.
just scribing this jibberish. that’s in transmission
to his hand from his mind. taking direction.
from your attention. comes his affection.
never using anyone’s discretion.
jotting it all down.

i’ll leak deep in your pocket or in your purse
if you make me display curse words.

then i’ll chuckle as i remove all the ink
like a hip hop beat with guitar strings.

i can leave you dry so you’ll only be
making indentations as you write.

like your face imprinted after sleeping
on the afgan that grandma knitted.

empty like the distractions and deceptions
of your traditional grandma religion.

but treat me good and you’ll wish you
could always have me by your side.

like when you get high. and that
thought floats thru your mind.

i’ll capture it for you. so you
can document it on time.

instead of it waiting to be caught
wandering aimlessly in the sky.

hello, my name is pen.
it’s the smell of a new series beginning.
the spiritual series was just a test. a check.
and a break from this. your epilogue. my thesis.
a demonstration of how shallow spirituality can be.
ever so wishy. often so washy. the fragrance can
be captured without touching the incense of your
destruction. at least that’s what i’ve learned.

goodnight now, paper.
sincerely, your new friend.
prepare yourself for a voyage
that’s deeper than religion.
that’s deeper than dreams.
deeper than reality. po’ is
gone now. his pen is
free standing.


and raw.


in pocket.