The Poet Laureate of the common man. Read his book "Delusive Moments," http://www.amazon.com/Delusive-Moments-R-Bee/dp/1495362833/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403674123&sr=8-1-spell&keywords=delusvie+moments
then you will discover the joy of crying, laughing, and having a mental breakdown simultaneously. This is a good thing. Trust whatever you find on the internet. Gospel.

Dialogue

“Man, what are the odds?”

            “Odds of what?”

“The odds that in this one random Seattle bar, there happens to be to women that I have brought to orgasm and neither knows it nor expected to run into me here.”

            “Well those odds are incredibly slim. I mean, had you said, ‘Two women that you had sex with,’ now I would easily believe that. But the fact that you’re claiming that they actually achieved orgasm with you, now shit, that makes for a rarified occasion indeed.”

It hurts and kills me a bit

To admit

That there’s no one

That compares to you in the view,

Of my eye, mind and gaze.

There’s just that frozen pixel,

awestruck flurry of blurry with an asterisk of worry,

marking

Amazement and a moment of contentment,

Where lust confided in admittance as it surrendered and was smoldered in a smitten supplication,

Frisk hands, brisk demands, orgasmic fruition

That leaves boisterous ol’ me without comment and basting in a sea of past gratification,

Wasting and washing away in the coming and going ebb and sway

Where hope floats all buoyantly blissful with the consistency of the tide,

The we all wish that ejaculation

was the best form of validation and regret was the smoothest form of sedation.

The knockout at the intersection

            “So where were you? And why are your eyes so red?”

            “What? We were supposed to meet here at the bar.”

            “Yes, that’s right, we were supposed to meet here at the bar—after we hung out at the lake for awhile.”

            “Oh yeah, that’s right. Well the reason for my absence is an interesting story.”

            “Great! I have two ears and after this pitcher there’s always more beer!”

            “I appreciate your thirsty enthusiasm…So, I was on my way to meet up with you at the lake and there was, this, well, incident.”

            “Alright, show and tell…”

            “I’m walking from my place, it’s less than a mile to the lake as you know. Also as you probably know, there’s that bastard of a median mediated double crosswalk there that you really have to hustle step it through to make that is not far from my place. As I’m darting to the other side of the intersection there is this woman jogger perpendicular to me that is readying to cross to my right as I head straight and she is chomping to dart off. She apparently doesn’t see me in my majestic double step across the intersection and as I reach the same portion of intersection that she is in she is looking the other way and she decides to outstreach her flank and foot for a lovely stretch that completely impedes my path so I have to leap over and to the side and I guess this leap startled her and instincts kicked or chopped in as she reactively threw this vicious chop punch thing at my face—undoubtedly to end my world.”

            “What?! What fucking happened next?!”

            “Well, as you probably know, I’ve really gotten into this boxing gym I’ve now been going to for over a year and well, there’s no other way to put it, my instincts kicked or punched in and well—my technique was superior. I blocked her chop punch thingy with my left and I automatically threw a sharp jab with that same left hand and it caught her on the chin and slack back drop. She dropped like a wet towel to the floor.”

            “No! No! No way that happened!”

            “Wait. It gets better. I quickly realize she’s knocked out and that this is all just a weird mishap of poor timing and this poor timing places a rather attractive and rather unconscious female at my feet. I naturally swoop in to help her as best I can and as I’m stabilizing her head and neck I’m saying repeatedly, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was an accident.’ Just then, as I’m cradling her neck, this random pedestrian comes up and under the supposition that I’m assaulting this unconscious woman, the pedestrian decides it’s her duty to pepper spray me back into the dark ages and tactically subdue me with her own aftermarket death grips. Needless to say, as my red eyes and countless bruises serve as evidence, she succeeded. As you notice, my eyes are still fucking and burning and itching and all abloom like a novice stoner’s. As I’m screaming and squirming about in pain, I’m proclaiming my innocence, a police officer shows up, the recently knocked out lady is slowly coming to, traffic is has halted to an unreasonable standstill of gawkers and commuters, and suddenly and blindly, I’m grappled into handcuffs as my eyes congeal into a blurry foam of whatever it is that your body produces to combat pepper spray and all is see is digitally blotted figures—like Cops or something and I’m thinkning that the last layer of my eye’s lens layer’s are being burned away.”

            “I can’t believe this! How are you not in jail right now?!”

            “The cop finally allowed her and I to talk directly since the whole scene was going nowhere and was only growing in confusion. She was out of it—due to being recently knocked unconscious, and she was stating that she had no idea who I was or what was going on. Discombobulated being an understatement here. The pepper spray marksman was a certifiable nut and had said that they simply saw my hit the woman and they were unsure if I was protecting myself or not. I told the cop my version. He shared it with the so called ‘assailed’ woman and she said that it all sounded, ‘very likely as she I a practiced Jujitsu fighter and she had little to no control over her fighting reactions that are geared towards protecting herself.’ After that exchange with the cop, she requested to speak with me directly and I got the opportunity to apologize to her in person—or at least in with consciousness.”

            “I assume that the fact you’re here after a few hours is a reflection that your explanation and apology went well?”

            “It really did. We just hit it off! Actually, we’re going on a date Friday. I’m taking her to my boxing gym to train and spar and then we’re going out to eat together. A hot, sweaty, hungry, satisfied and hopefully gratified mess. She promised to choke me out. Fuck. I merely lost it and said, ‘at the gym or in the bedroom?’ She replied, ‘Maybe both,’ and I got a hard on with the properties of a bo staff in the thoughts of our bodies inherent possibilities.”

            “Fucking ‘A, she’s a knockout.”

            A third friend walks into this dialogue.

            “Sorry I’m late guys. Traffic was shit out there! Damn arterial toilet, all backed up, I hear that some asshole decked this sexy jogger chick and  a ‘Good Samaritan’ pepper sprayed his dumbass and held him in custody until the police came. Fucked up, huh? Hey, why are your eyes so red?”

7/11 flow…

Shit.

I have no idea how that got there and I have no idea where that is going. And fuck it if my fingers don’t just want to sing for the purpose of swiftly moving and singing and swinging with these keys like they ain’t composite polymer imposter ivory with their lively ebony plastic deposit of white letters and black space. It ain’t fake rubber deposits I’m burning and harvesting, it’s lively and artificial ivory, these are more than notes and keys to music and doors of expression and it needs to be sung loud and known far that the words reaching ears are often furthest from the truth. Reality has no sound. The nothingness of the void carries the deepest bass. The words that reach your ears are often furthest from the truth. Reality has no sound and dreams are inaudible.

Ah fuck, if it aint Mr. Johnny Cash.

This man in black album really got to me.

It dug in and under my skin, sung deep into my

Hollow soul and reverberated reason to me in

My bleakest season of despair.

…And hell followed with him…

On “Delusive Moments”

I wanted my book to be like sex with me: riddled with errors, all over the place, seemingly simple yet overtly complex, and ultimately very satisfying when at first you thought it wasn’t going anywhere good or in particular.

I had to hold her just right not to lose her.

Too loose and she slipped away,

Too tight and she suffocated.

Finding the proper means for calculating the mean is hard it seems.

I had to hold her just right not to lose her.

If we do not follow our hopes and dreams, then we are chasing our failures and nightmares.

I think it’s love but I forgets (early draft)

People lie a lot and that’s not it,

Some pussy’s sing like castanets.

A few dicks get hard and lose no frets,

Love is nice for those without debts,

Life is full of wins, losses, and regrets.

Looking at the horizon as the sun sets

I second guess my well placed bets.

Is this drunkenness or happiness?

Either way this is my shot at bliss.

I think it’s love but I forgets.

Is there a chorus to a song like this?

“I think it’s love but I forgets.”

Sometime mistakes are all that distinguish,

I gots too many lines, let’s make sonnets…

You don’t like the shoe? Well sometimes it fits.

Who can eat all of this Cavendish?

These solemn dishes, they exist, for us to all accomplish,

But love and health are my only wish.

I think it’s love but I forgets.

People lie a lot and that’s not it,

Some pussy’s sing like castanets.

A few dicks get hard and lose no frets,

Love is nice for those without debts,

Life is full of wins, losses, and regrets.

Looking at the horizon as the sun sets

I second guess my well placed bets.

Is this drunkenness or happiness?

Either way it is, this is my shot at bliss.

I think it’s love but I forgets.

Is there a chorus to a song like this?

I think it’s love but I forgets.

Sometime mistakes are all that distinguish,

I gots too many lines, let’s make sonnets…

You don’t like the shoe? Well sometimes it fits.

Who can eat all of this Cavendish?

These solemn dishes, they exist, for all of us to accomplish,

But love and health are my only wish.

I think it’s love but I forgets.