She sings to soundless shadows 

. .  prays with a broken halo 

I should probably leave 

but a buried love song plays in my  dizzy head 

 . . . a  running needle fallows the grove 

Beauty

only skin deep 

. . . plays tricks on me in the sunlight 

She’s crazy about lucid dreams 

. . . listens carefully to the pitch of rain 

. . . open to persuasion 

I should probably leave 

but her tender miracles need wings to fly   

She sings to soundless shadows 

. . . prays with a broken halo 

. . . purple pilot in the sky 

walking on a delicate moon 

Shea butter baby kisses me blind 

a thousand times 

like Sunday morning black keys 

. . . belladonna sunrise 

I come up for air 

as she rivers her precious colors 

. . . painting my paper truth 

without confines 

. . . open to persuasion 

. . . walking on a delicate moon 

she sings to soundless shadows 

. . . prays with a broken halo 

I should probably leave 

but her tender miracles need wings to fly

She ‘s the perfect butterfly 

You should see her when she takes to the sparkling sky 

Nothing holds her back 

I’ve seen the whole world try 

but candid flowers can not lie 

They die for her rapturous touch 

 

A bush of believing  wind 

. . . pollen  from a spin in flutter 

. . . wings as soft as grandma’s left out butter 

 

I melt as warm as sunsets 

. . . wander through thoughts like a children’s moon 

Maybe a spoon of stainless sugar will bring me back 

like a poem relaxing near a picket fence 

. . . making sense of it all 

 

They die for her rapturous touch 

She’s the perfect butterfly 

You should see her when she takes to the sparkling sky 

Nothing holds her back 

 

Maybe it’s just my swaying imagination 

running away with me 

. . . cleverly telling me something I should already know 

“ Only fools fall in love” 

and  there “The wise dare not go” 

Words can paint a pretty picture 

but heartbreak can melt the snow 

 

Show me the yellow daisies in bloom 

Play me a russet tune that croons of life 

Let powdered memories forget what is soon to come 

 

She’s the perfect butterfly 

Candid flowers will not lie 

You should see her take to the sparkling sky 

Nothing holds her back 

I’ve seen the whole world try 

They die for her rapturous touch

 

Hail to its concrete face 

Houston city streets keep their devouring pace 

a racing matrix of mass destruction 

you do the mathematics 

it's a spiral staircase of deduction, 

a swarm of flies flirting with a garbage pile, 

rubbish set to rot near a curb 

 

A malodorous child emerges 

Kalvin Coolie is not your average troubadour 

. . .  a coffee house poet that pours to the brim, 

all at once,  

at every table 

He 's able to entice an audience with psychic chase 

bait and switch 

Itch and scratch your head for a little sense 

maybe his poems could stand as reason 

. . . ears will be the judge of that 

parchment vice 

 

Hail to its concrete face 

Houston city streets keep their devouring pace 

a racing matrix of mass destruction 

Kalvin Coolie is not your average troubadour 

 

                      

Whisper nothing 

like desert cities 

laid back under majestic midnight 

in shadowed sensations 

hot chocolate raindrops scorching my heart, 

loose in laughter, unchained in my ear 

like a whirl of wind 

It turns my soul indigo 

like sunset's purple 

Men adore you 

Whisper nothing 

Your quiet writing says it all 

. . .  and it's easy to read my thoughts 

like paper print 

there's no braille to touch 

like a whirl of wind, 

loose in laughter, 

unchained in my ear 

Men adore you 

Whisper nothing

Fabiola burned every blue sweater 

thinking it would erase the fabricated pain 

that was her gift to wear 

woven plastic twisting into drunken flames 

folded paper curled and crinkled 

Her sunken spirit wrinkled 

in yellowed blush and then subsequently black 

Ashes into ashes 

Dust into dust 

We all fall down 

look what she had found searching 

Wet lipstick on his Khaki jacket, 

pucker prints, 

orange in her scarlet apartment, 

pacing the hardwood floors 

She turned pink when he knocked 

She opened the door he'd walked through countless times, 

 laughed in a long moment of insanity, 

rambled a Creole slur in contempt,  

freckled-faced

burned by match sticks 

She left a hole in his story with her weapon 

It lied motionless without grief,  

ghostly and insipid 

Her last kiss had no regret 

Fabiola burned every blue sweater 

thinking it would erase the fabricated pain 

that was her gift to wear

Jewels from the hidden geography, 

description of a human surface, 

Low-pitched inclinations, immediate reality, 

. . . discharging prattle… 

My second attention unearths more of me, 

endless episodes of exploding emotions, 

. . . too many to count, catch, or to query. 

My potential for action still lost in thought. 

Every ulterior motive lays wide open. 

I supply the paper rapidly! 

Here, the one is the same as the many. 

A few seconds seem like hours, 

. . . hours like a single moment in time. 

Breath soars misprints! 

Scribble jets off spent recollections, pure intuition, 

exaggerations for your enjoyment. 

. . . jewels from the hidden geography! 

Here, a few seconds seem like hours, 

. . . hours like a single minute. 

At the rate I’m writing, who knows what’s next! 

. . . endless episodes of exploding emotions! 

. . . too many to count, catch, or to query! 

My second attention unearths more of me, 

descriptions of a human surface, 

. . . immediate reality! 

. . . jewels from the hidden geography!

She was upside down 

like a misused postage stamp 

stuck to a life she couldn’t believe 

I was breathing inside out 

by a firehouse 

trapped by an page too hard to read 

 

With moonlight eyes 

she said hello 

and walked, unhurried, across the sky 

The night was young 

The sun’s asleep 

I could not say goodbye 

 

Happy was a smoky place 

where men lost their shirts 

Women dance all night long 

just to lose their skirts 

 

I said, “Baby, let’s take a walk on the wild side 

. . . I can walk under ladders 

. . . don’t need no bracelet 

. . . no four-leaf clover 

. . . just as long as you are here with me.” 

 

That was then 

This is now 

Somehow we found our peace 

The joker laughed 

. . . played his cards 

and waited on the thief 

 

We showed our hand 

The dealer panned 

and swallowed in disbelief 

I felt the wind from his grin 

His teeth flashed paper-thin 

 

As the band played on 

. . . a simple song 

Lucky headed for the door 

She took my hand without a plan 

and finished her last pour 

 

She said, “Baby, let’s take a walk on the wild side . . . 

I can walk under ladders 

. . . don’t need no bracelet 

. . . no four-leaf clover 

. . . just as long as you are here with me.

She has eyes 

like those of tameless lions 

brown reflections of dark souls sleeping 

They take me like dreams. 

She’s laughing 

lids are tightening, and lashes touch 

Her eyes disappear 

and reappear, out-loud, 

returning water from a tightening tummy 

She looks out again 

I begin to sketch her deeper into a poem 

Open orbs close once more 

inspiring the masterpiece further 

Her round cheeks posing a smile for my flowing ink pen 

When the page turns, she blinks 

My beating heart stops 

Her eyes are bare again 

like those of tameless lions 

brown reflections of dark souls sleeping 

They take me like dreams

Prayer before sunrise 

visualizing vivid pictures of perfect scriptures reflecting my times 

Drifting lyrics and holy spirits advancing through the limitless abyss 

I kiss my lover no sooner than she awakes 

break my rest with action 

A brisk shower 

close shave 

a glass of exciting orange juice 

madd exercise and deep breathing 

Listing  to myself in the calm down 

the green tea is boiling 

paper moon, sparkling stars, and strategic satellites 

fighting is east of the muddy Nile 

Murder is west of the moving Mississippi River 

I pray for the day the demons are contained and subdued 

Blue cloth for your beauty 

Fluttering moth and flickering flame 

Give us rain, oh great majesty 

Give us rain 

I repeat it so many times it starts to echo 

A prayer before sunrise

There's no one 

like you 

I've searched every single page 

for two 

Imagined myself with a crayon 

neon blue 

A shade so perfect 

 it rivaled the moon 

 

A play on looks in your glance 

A quick book full of speechless romance 

 

Talk like fire 

A thousand words without asking questions 

When conditions are right, 

lightning strikes without guessing 

 

There's no one like you 

I've searched every single page 

for two 

Imagined myself with a crayon 

 neon blue 

 A shade so perfect

it rivaled the moon