There came to be a protective tree, planted in the middle of the gutters,

It’d burst when it’s moisture dried and didn’t want to be hugged with its protruding thorny utters!

It craves attention and warmth with no particular gap,

But oh, Jabillo! How silly you thirst with your venomous sap!

When your branches move, it makes onlookers want to protect their heads,

Damn this melancholy ink dripped upon me and blast out all of my dread!

For no one cares….

They just stare and stare, not even aware of the shade I bare and hold,

Until a woman walked on by after escaping where she was once sold,

I unexpectedly protected her from beasts with whips sternly bold,

Booming shrapnel everywhere it goes,

For this was not foretold, for this was not foretold!

Once I felt looked at, I became somber that I couldn’t offer my fruits of ancestral rage,

But oh that look didn’t pester for a natural wage,

As she resembled me with her hardened skin and eyes of youthful age,

With patterns on her head of an undeciphered page,

She say, say she “The sage will soon be watered!”

She skips and hops away over the bodies left by my slaughter,

She evaporates and I ponder why I should have bothered!

But right then she comes and digs around me unfathered,

A ring is produced around me but doesn’t she know I’m invasive!

Why make worth while work and time that is not adjacent!

She proves me wrong as she brings loads of a flowing crystal blue persuasion,

And dumps it round and round,

Until I’m full and not once fazed was she by my explosive sounds,

She’d talk to me in a tongue quite bubbly to hear,

And pose not as a mannequin but as a warm-spirit not to fear,

She’d disappear and come back with joy of seeing me healthy and glad,

But how could she know what I felt, has she gone mad!

I am not a sentient being to be loved, my roots are planted in the bad,

How could she care…

About the pain accumulated through the years that I’ve had to bear,

The unlucky ones that I have gotten too close to me and fell to snare,

And all of that has happened with me not giving a care,

But this has to be different right?

Or am I trapped in endemic dignity or sorry plight?

Oh…how I come off sharp and dry!

And why do you always come and sit next to me, don’t you know my tears can make you die!

And why do you always talk about your day to me as if I am capable to fly,

When you can’t even do that yourself!

But oh how wrong was I to allow my letters to get piled on a floating shelf,

Within my reach that I could breach and melt,

As it was not intended to be read by anyone but the girl and myself!

My Specially Favored,

Ah, such a glamourous day it is as you would say! The sun is perfectly hidden from this vista as I am sending this out and it would look even better with your company, besides me. You are that little ray to me after all, the disguised rows of lines that radiates from the bright object that maintains us both! So why don’t you cast those little lights of yours onto thine and make my seeds explode…onto the ground below where you have laid before? Can’t wait to see and be read aloud by you…

The One You Named,

Spike

For those who are brave enough to read this collection of writings through time…

My Specially Favored,

Hey…you haven’t been around recently…is something the matter? I know you’re there…oop, you can come out now! Just come out already and sit next to me, nothing could happen besides what has already been proven to you, so have some pluck and show up. The days are dull and the nights even more without seeing or hearing you. Once you come, you have to tell me every little detail, minor or major, about what I’ve missed since we were last together, including the whopping corpulent longwinded fellows that blessedly gush out of your dark opening that is sheltered by that honeyed dress of yours. I continually fancy those. I inhale them in my body and they stay trapped and I never let them out not even when I get fussy with my fruits. I need you to water me. To lay by me and guide me with events, shapes, perhaps poems or those songs you hum from that habitation far-flung where you scampered from. Only shall I have words for you and delighted I’d be to receive them back edited with your pedigree. Your caretaker will remove all excess that tries to spoil our ring, so let’s build our nest and annul any material outside of it.

Spike

You will not be chipped or set aside…

I have broken that promise…  something has gotten into me. The trees around me have been falling and I can only ration it’s the fault of newcomers, but where are they? I never see them get close to me and when I do see them, they sort of distance themselves from me and look at me with contortions of astonishment. They study me and notice the parching ring around and don’t get anywhere near me like how you would. That’s how it was until a couple of days ago, a group of four men showed up dragging a person of the same features as you with a long string tied to his neck. They would beat him if he wouldn’t stand up and walk straight and yell words to him that I couldn’t understand. They huddled into a circle and would push the man around until one of them hit him in the face so hard that he landed headfirst on the water. They would nudge their shoes on his head and use his body as some bridge to fiercely step over to get close to me. One of them pointed at me to another “Say Gogg, ain’t this that possumwood that McDonald’s woul’ ramble about using for ink to write for the tribune?” “I dare say he came upon another?” “It looks like Beelzebub’s tree to me! We’ve been warned by the almighty!” “Hey stop that Whitaker! You preach damnation everywhere you go!” “But it says in the good book that—” “Men, let’s stop making tales please. We’re lowering ourselves to the likes of this coon right here, creating fantasies for better judgement. We don’t need to be doing that or referring to the good book because we’re smarter than other brutes that roam around. We deal the cards, and the others just spectate” “Ah I see” “You talk good, Breen!” “I ain’t no moon cricket!” “I get that, Whit, but what we got here is and don’t you think we should be doing something about it?” “Yeah!” “Yes!” “We didn’t walk all the way here to leave this swamp donkey full and whole, right?” “No we didn’t” “So let’s get to work then” and they tied ropes on the man’s hands and got him up by superior torture and had him standing like a limp sleepwalker and coerced him by pulling his hands onto my tissue. They pulled back the rope of his neck at the right time that way he wouldn’t “die on the spot”, but the two men pulling his hands enjoyed their time damaging the rest of the body in a jubilant tug-of-war against the near walking dead. Once the fun became tame, they let go of his hands and the man with the rope to his neck threw the rope over one of my arms and pulled the man till he was dangling like one of my fruits. They laughed till nearly crying and would blast my fruits around the man as if they were solid fireworks. “Make him see heaven but don’t let him reach it, Gogg’!” and Gogg’ would pull ever more strongly. Once they had their fun, they let the man drop and he splashed on the water unconscious. The water became a dark color, a color I have never seen it turn into, as the man laid there hidden from sight, surrounded by the group as they dropped liquids from their bodies onto the unmoving man. Days have passed and he is still there, the stink stronger than before and forcing its way to stay trapped into my body. He hasn’t moved, in fact nothing has moved, not even the leaves off my arms. The wind passes around me, and the ring now has dried and now serves as a undistinguishable barrier for me to feel what’s outside of it. I have forgotten how it is to feel. To be loved…

Upon on the surface of your planet’s grime…

Where are you?! A lot is bare now. All the others have been slashed down. I never bothered to recognize them because I had you and you were what mattered to me, not them. They detested me. Berate me for being where I was, for taking up their space. For damaging them. How? I never once did anything to them out of anger or hatred. I sat in my circle, and they happened to be outside of it. I think that’s what frustrated them. And now they’re all gone, thrown down and butchered by those moving things that are your species. Is this how all of you act? You glamorize first so you can then justify your actions? So you can circle around our skin with a blade? When my fruit explodes this one out, it’s not going to be one that interests you probably, as your species doesn’t like frustration. They ignore it and wage war against it when it’s too much to put out.

As it is I that will guard all moving life spied…

You never saw that last letter I sent you, nor any of the previous. I don’t think you ever will. A lot has changed since I last saw you. There are these structures where people enter and exit out of them steps from me. There is this flat blanket that is weathered and scarred that extends far out where travelers inside moving shiny objects hum their velvety lullabies that sound similar to yours. Few trees remain, none of my kind, and they try to kiss the shadows of olden saplings, but they are only available to kiss a fool, themselves, as others are dispersed throughout this stripped region of earth. There is a large body of water next to me and it is so dense and dirty and what was my ring…our ring, is now a laughable dirt design in comparison. There are smaller blankets that are a different color, narrow and snakelike, ribbons of stardust that are walked by your species, tall and small. A pair of them, a man and a little girl, walks now actually and they walk around the body of water hand to hand. They get close for me to listen. “What’d you wanna be when you grow up?”

“Um, still be breathing” “What do you want to breathe?” “Uh, I guess life” “But life  can’t only be breathed, it can be understood, to which that understanding provides footsteps to accomplishing something worth living” “What is worth living?” “Oh that’s simple, it’s just two words put together that most of us still try to figure out nowadays”. “I’ve never heard stupider words. “But people are mean” “They always will be and yet you will have to look at them” “But I don’t want to!” “You have too pumpkin” “I said I don’t want to!” “Look, you were blessed with eyes. You can see, you have that ability to vision people, art, colors, nature and process this information to your head to fuel an ingenuity. That is a blessing. There are people who can’t do what you do, they can only hear or taste or smell, but they can’t see or there are some who see but can’t hear. But just because those people lack something you have doesn’t give you the right to minimize them, to reduce their ingenuity. You were gifted all the senses, and you should use them for good and not for bad” “Yes daddy, but aren’t there things that we can refuse to see?” “Why yes, plenty actually” “Exactly and people is one of em! Pttttb!” “Oh pumpkin, not all people are things that you should refuse to see. Every time you look at someone in their eyes, you can see 10 billion light years in diameter and immense galaxies constantly expanding looking right back at you with a bang and as to whether you look at them or not, it’s ok, because you are already a part of them as they are also a part of you. In other words none of you have nothing to prove, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop appreciating each other. Always look, but don’t be a peeping tom; always act, but don’t be a class jester; always love, but don’t be fully obsessed. There is nothing sadder than one who doesn’t know how to look, act, and love properly for their time. I am here to help you practice, kiddo, to guide you how to see someone for what they are, and you will be better than me at that I can promise.” “You do see that, daddy!?”

“Yup and I will admit that I do not try to look at yours for too long because I’d get completely absorbed and this old man does not have any fancy space gear to go into that universe of yours naked. I’d die instantly!” “Oh no!” She covers her eyes and cutely peeks through the gaps in her fingers. Both of them laugh identically.

“When we look at each for too long, we combine our universes and make it more whole rapidly. We can’t let that happen too quickly because then there is going to be nothing for you and the ones after. So don’t let the stars get in your eyes and don’t let the moon break your heart”. They hug in admiration and see each other. Ugh, when are one of you fools going to see me! “Hey dad, what tree is that?” Finally! Get over here, little girl! Look at me…”I don’t know, I’ve never seen a tree like that before! How about we go explore it!” Closer…come touch me… “Woah, that’s a weird looking tree…oh god it smells horrendous!” “Hey, something dropped over there!” “Pumpkin!” Pick it up…“It’s some fruit! It looks like a grey pumpkin and it’s hard” “Be careful pumpkin, let me see it” “Oh look here’s another one!” “Hmm, it does—”

Look at you with a bang huh?

I will advise… that you will not be remembered a living thing nor one of my rhymes…

Their bodies are hidden now in the grass, their faces spiked like my skin. For years I haven’t been comfortable in my skin. For years I’ve been fantasizing about your return. But not anymore. I’ve found my purpose now. I know how they will see me. I feel so alive and new that I can move around now, just like the wind, but at my control and timing. A gang walks towards my way. Little crushable moon crickets. “Ayo what the fuck is that” “A tree dumbass” “No shit but look at that, it’s thorny” “Hey Marcus since you think you Miles Morales, climb this!” “Bro, watch me!”. I don’t let the others watch him as the bombs go away. Marcus’s skin now lives in mine. I hope we feel like this forever, forever ever. Forever ever?

Therefore, monkey don’t climb.

A birthday gift for my protective tree, my mommy, who blasted me into existence!