nSvS .za.i=09



What to see,

when the sea,

of my ocean has no

concept of  motion.

Where my shoe left my sandals,

of all laces, 

I can see the peace

where i left that piece.


®artsydhude 97-18




Poem is a heart in which three things matter.


to encase all that which is not even tangible

to begin with.


to fill and to sort all of nutrients

with all the cesspool what all of

emotional content,

emotional tenses,

and its stress.


So at least it can take out all shit from it.

In takes away all garbage out.

To find the fingers which can construct a word, a verb, a noun.

To make a statement out of a sentence, and to subdue all clause

to form a paragraph into a story. 

Then you know The heart does matter,

and the Poem has gone away,

coz the navel of the novel stayed.



®artsydhude 97-18


Poem. ,

a definitive accusations wherein lies a heart dismantled.

a defining minutes of every second of centuries of emotional languishing upon a heart. . .

. . of one’s own amusement;

. . of one’s own lamentations;

but only one true construct

and of condition to train,

One heart remains beating to the rhythm.

would that be,

yours, mine

or someone

who still loves us,

Who can . . 


©oam®artsydhude 97-18


Art of my heart.

This conduit can make my eye,

yet all of the sea of my tears cannot look.

Blurred love is all I get,

Obscured hate is what I take upon.

Why would all of me,

wail and flail about every time

you question my love for U.

Once upon a dramatic love I sheltered,

At the heart of which to Love,

is not even to be at peace,

waiting on trust that is always paid,

that of betrayal.


©oam ®artsydhude, 97-18 ™XENOphagz

Art of the heart.

Break apart my heart,

it wil cry,

it will try.

Go ahead kill my soul,

you will try,

and yes I will cry.

At the art of my own two arms,

I will unfold,

I will make my fingers bleed to my bone.

Only when,

the art of my heart,






®artsydhude, all artworks thereof. 97-18


 Monday’s .w1:m1

A coat and tie seemed wrinkled at the hour of 6 am to main avenue.

For this frap stain came late before this hot mama was in line, 

a smirk of a smile, then txted me her num as she bumps three people in tow.

At third and quarter past, a vid call came in,

then a beautiful shout from someone I never saw,

yet it rang the bell as the doors cannot yell.

muttering and said myself to sleep,

as this frap creeped into my sock,


Fired again for the first day,

I can’t even keep.


For all those who work 9- til,

this is for U.

w/o U all, we can never survive.

Sincerely us grunts.



®all artworks by artsydhude 97-18