YOUME & MEYOU
by max keanu

Hey, Meyou!

Let's swim, let's dance

We're happy, tiny hands

Tiny feet, just us.

Our floating world is

Forever? Our heaven.

No! Youme, listen! Voices!

They say, nothing's forever.

Whisssssssssssssssssssssss... chang!

Our mother walks daily

One hour, heart heavy.

Prays, begs him - Forgive me!!!

Cries alone. Pleads.

Whiss... chang!

Dance, dance, happy

Together, we grow

Kick mom awake

Inside out. Play.

Whisss... chang!

Meyou, squeeze my

Umbilical to mommy

I'll squeeze yours, ha-ha.

Mommy, we hungry!

Whissss... chang!

Youme, listen, feel, mommy

In shower, warm water cascade.

Out there, so wonderful!

Mom's home. Six by eight cell.

Whisssss... chang!

Mommy so sad, resigned

World gone mad, black, white

Daddy, dead. What is...

Murder? Thou shall....

Whisssss... chang!

Not kill. Mommy!

Sad, again! Why?

World wonderful

Waiting for us.

Whisssss... chang!

Birth! Not today Youme.

Meyou, you ready?

Lives together, from the start

Soon depart, life's starts.

Whisssssss... chang!

Birth! Today! You go first.

Contraction! Okay, let go of me.

By-by, Youme. The squeeze.

Tight. See you on the outside!

Whissssssss... chang!

Here I come. Contraction!

Behind you, Meyou

So scared. I hear

Other voices. Emerge...

SPANKED!

~~~

Evie, tried, lawyer did too

Stay refused, honey

Thirty days is all...

All white jury.

IT'S INSANE!

Thirty days! By guillotine?

My babies! Mother love!

New lives! Mercy!

Ain't fair! All's lost!

EXECUTION?

Life aint ever fair, baby.

Black woman loves

White man's demands

Abused. You only protected...

TO SAVE THEM!

Murder in the first? Premeditate?

Evie, the babes... just fate.

Give away? Orphans?

No ma, no pa. Pray for them.

WHISSS... chang!

 ~~~

Meyou! Air world, so loud.

You. Gone. Umbilical? Gone.

Oh, this world, so beautiful!

Our outside mommy, so unhappy!

WHISSSSS... CHANG!!

Youme, I see you

At the teat. Love. Mother.

Taste. Smell. Hear. Life!

Our wonderful world!

WHISSSSSSS... CHANG!

Days pass. Priest comes.

Mommy cries, prays for us.

Taken away. Goodbye you, you!

Dead mama walking. Goodbye Mommy

MOMMY!

Meyou. Youme. Separated. Forever.
From me, from all I was
So much, love in us
Family, should be

So warm to touch

So soft to sleep

So soothing

So love

So much... so learn!

WHISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS... CHA

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Teetering shaking time thrash
Shadows of wills, vacillate
Ended seconds, fates instantiate
Grieves ginormous, desperate
Time-scape clatter, clink, crash
Mind-scraped, sunk, separate

Atop hills high, esoteric plateau
Mazdah flaming minions, histrionic
Mankind of toil, folly, synchronic
Heroic quantum Yen plenitudes
Misery affliction, radical irradiations
Pointless prayers, mystical gratitudes….
Of Chernobyl, of Fukushima
Of men suited, armed, themed
Of lives reamed, labyrinth schemed
Of names in vain vanes of shamed
Wavering, weathering weary men
Disingenuous, gamed. Never named.

Forbidden life cancer mutates
Tiny men in bonds scurry, postulate
Mendacities, men dastardly
Men bastardly, equivocate…
Pushing candy coated atrocities
Half-life fuel, isotope packed puffery

Half-life empty, soul of lost hope
One family-less man, of lost scope
Seppuku, Hara-kari to afterlife
Swaying heaven, swinging strife
Family song gone, reincarnation wins
Eyes open, 2:46... knife plunges in.

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I'm lying on my back on a bed of undulating seaweed, twenty thousand leagues beneath the sea. I'm Mr. Spock flying through the universe, sealed in a capsule, my destination unknown. I'm a vegetating chunk of humanness, a rotting homo-sapient tuber buried in the slimy earth, millions of worms invading me, crawling into every orifice, devouring my living corpse from the inside out. I'm the centenarian Dave Bowman, lying in that enigmatic and mysteriously uber-sterile green and white room in 2001 - A Space Odyssey, growing older, and older, and older, by the second... whole, but not whole, not wholly alive. What is it to be alive? Perhaps I'm dead and alive, but mostly… I'm so alone here.

I'm treated just like another sheet on a bed that gets turned back every day, whether it needs it or not. I'm placed in another bed every morning when my diaper is changed and I'm scrubbed, and I'm cleaned, and I'm smeared with fragrant emollients that overwhelm my remaining sense of smell— treated like a domesticated animal that smells or might smell as the day wears on and turns to night.

My bed is freshly, efficiently made each day by chattering hospital workers who speak Illicano, pidgin Hawaii-English, and Spanish, but many times their voices mesh and sound as if cloaked Klingon warriors arrived to discuss the fate of my seemingly lifeless body. I'm hefted back into my bed as if I were a sack of potatoes, a living lump of lard, a mass of living flesh that once possessed a personality, mastered a talent or two and had an affable friendly smile for almost everyone I encountered—in what I thought was the good life. I was a nice guy before this happened to me....

In a time that may or may not be the morning, a nurse enters the room; inserts what I think are needles of nourishment, medicine or perhaps some evil magic into my arm. I'm washed every other day by a man who whistles off key 1970's disco tunes and seems to pay more attention to my penis than I think is necessary. He is also the brusque purveyor of my occasional enema and my official machete wielding, fingernail, toenail, hangnail cutter, filer and polisher. My once muscled agile fingers, my once perfected guitar nails... all things of the past, never to be again.

I've had four different roommates since my arrival. This is how I get my news. I can't ask my wife Aya, or my son Reuben about what has happened, what is happening or what will happen in my future. My roommates have all been members of big noisy local families: Samoans, Fijians, Marshall Islanders or some other race who climbs and partakes of the coconut tree culture. I smelled the coconut oil on all of them, each and every time they walked into my hospital room, while rambling speaking perplexing Donny-speak or pidgin-gone-Polynesian in loving intonations and liquid-y loquaciousness.

These unknown family members talk to me, ask me what I think about everything under the Hawaiian sun. They tell me things about their lives they wouldn't tell a wife, a priest or a cop in an intimate confession. I've overheard five different versions of what happened to me, why I'm at this place, in this space, and in this time. These simple, happy, un-restless natives, who for the most part place the quandaries of life into the hands of their Jesus. I've spent many days thinking about Jesus and concluded Jesus was a lot like Walter Ozman Junior, the Oz, The Great and Powerful Oz — both young men heaped with heavy responsibilities to live up to — revered images — god like images — only to be betrayed by a Judas and Fritz Mann...  for some reason my mind turns itself off, as if suffering traumatic stress disorder. My brain will not allow thinking or mental images associated with Fritz Mann to proceed— too painful Robert, my over-functioning, always-on brain tells me— too painful.

Mick King came to visit me once. He came alone, but I could smell Aya's scent still on him. He told me he was sorry for what happened. He cried. He told me he loved Aya. He said he loved her more than anything in the world. He asked if I would forgive him. Forgive him for what? Forgive him for loving my wife behind by back with a distinct passion.

If I could tell him anything, I would tell him to hold her tight, to love her, to take care of her forever. I may never be able to do so again—Mick, my young and talented friend, you are now her future! I would tell him that and I would tell him I may never be able to leave this prison of my own body to even whisper one last, ‘I love you, Aya'.

Mick asked me not to judge his pal Fritz too harshly. Fritz, he told me, has many problems. Then I remembered who Fritz Mann was. Tears do not flow from my eyes anymore since my tear ducts no long work. I can laugh, but I no longer possess the ability to coordinate my breathing, so my laugh is only a meaningless grunt, if that. Only futile grunts when I try to cry, or laugh, or yell, or rant in my utter despair. My laughter, when it does activate what remains of my vocal cords is off the beat, out of sync, only a nasty gurgling grunt... only crude grunts, accompanied by my constantly drooling spittle, secreted in never-ending streams from my malfunctioning saliva glands… up and over lips more putty than muscle. I appear to be an idiot to people, a motionless heap of sinewy soft muscle, spread over useless old bones and there is absolutely nothing in this lifetime that can be done about it. ....

THE SWIFTNESS OF THE SEA>>

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That Tragic Box of Love
by max keanu

Of dimensions known only
To owner, seeker, finders scopic
Of mystic, histrionic... never misanthropic
Misaligned to lusting and lycanthropy
Playboys in moonlight's furious hormones
In pursuit of enchantment's hirsute box of moans

Virile men questing, lips licking savory
Authors jesting, plunder crass, cravenly
Over malcontented flesh cloistered
Of dreamer's contentment celebrate, foisted
Fiery wild primordial, gland stand glistened
Every man's pictorial, wholly land christened

Forever the frosted cupcake of cupid
Thumped, bumped, loved internally eternally...
Flibbertigibbeting debutant insipid
Of virgin thighs, whoring existentially
In love's sighs, becomes Venus ascending
Everywoman squared, genius child defending

Wrap around aroma delicacies of mind-spirit
Wandering wide the world as pleasing Persephone
Robed boxes spewing grains freely, pheromonally
Till turbaned thugs, spawned like infected bugs
Condemn Aphrodite's freedom smiles, foaming hugs
Censure wisdom ages, womanly stages, roaming loves

Amazing, mystifying, magnificent
Essence box of life personified, named
Gamed, framed, lamed and blamed...
Who can claim ascendance immaculate?
Yet wild men cut and claw and castrate
Loved lips of nature's queenly potentates....

Zealous tribal types of minion mind unkind
Spittle-spitting Lilliputian future kings
Dreaming harems deluxe, delights invigorant 
Ribald tales of tails, worldly ignorant
Nose snuffling gun ready, father's right
Knows divine law, ends daughter's bold love flight

Pandora's strongbox controlled
Pampered little darlings extolled
Daddy's eyes on virgin enders
As the billions heave, tide's blenders
Denounce a religion's rabid drooling cur...
That sharia stalker shadow ever behind her....

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