I can disappear too.
I can so easily
From the eyes
Yet still be here.
From the shadows
I can watch
As life goes on
Nobody will realize
One less person present.
One can fade,
Just like that.
Love, it's isn't like the movies.
And nothing like a Disney's cartoon.
Yes, you might find your Prince Charming.
And your Cinderella too.
Just realize, love isn't like the movies.
Or like one of those old religious drama.
Where the King visualized his Queen?
Or anything shown like the royals dramatized dreams.
Once reality kicks in and you adjust.
Then you come to the realization.
Love only works when you put your hard work effort into it.
You'll have disagreements.
You'll have arguments too.
Just remember, love isn't like the movies.
And it shouldn't be.
When it comes to you.
gloomy girl. pretty.
seated at low table
someone comments. she replies.
take a few steps forward)
"i bet i can make you smile"
"i bet you a kiss on the cheek, right here, right now, i can make you smile-
here slap me-"
"go ahead, slap me, right here in the face- right on the cheek."
"i'm not going to slap you!"
"why not? you're just gonna kiss it and make it better anyways."
(pause. raise eyebrows. crooked smile.)
(she smiles. tries to hide it with her hands. head down. giggling.)
(kiss her on the cheek quickly and purposefully. get up swiftly in an over dramatized acrobatic display. dart away.)
Strangers to the touch:
he was fast to dive into
the waves that were
his briny deep.
She, whom took
his complexion into
the trench that is her,
also took the senile
artistry that was he,
Strangers to the act:
he took the palm
of his over-dramatized
antagonist of his own
life and just
She caressed the
thought of it,
yet still arose
to find her most
grazing his head
adolescent but corrupt
land line that made up
as her thighs.
Strangers they must be,
found need in
the halves that have
halves in half.
My poems idealize your tongue on my tongue
your breath in mine,
these verses will romanticize how we skipped from street to street
our arms swinging between your left hip and my right
like I did not think about how my parents
never doubled their strength to pull me up above ground as
we walked through parking lots. I
needed to fly and no adult could let me but you.
The sudden hurt, I have not yet dramatized that morning
you returned my voicemail unsuspecting
unknowing my intention to whisper I hate you I hate you I hate you.
Every bone in my body had broken because we could not
levitate any longer: you were not even strong
enough to keep yourself grounded. I make you sound beautiful
I make you sound ugly, but neither is real, just as
how there are no words for the New Year ball dropping.
Iguana of diamonds,
Sand sea and sun,
Little children in sight,
Attractions of light,
Natives of love,
Decorative cities, what night.
Island’s of the Bahamas beauty as can be,
What more fun than playing with dolphins in the sea.
Creative costumes, dancers so bright,
The music dramatized, Feel the rush it’s a site.
Nothing more beautiful than the island themselves,
Well except the people willing to give help.
Pineapples, peas and rice, pink sand, flamingoes, and some conch salad,
Not forgetting the “KALIK,” cause’ “IT’S A BAHAMIAN TING”.
Blue, Black and Aquamarine, was just described to you,
All in the Islands Love.
Come and enjoy the exciting experience too!
My Bahama Land!
Trying something new...
The acoustic guitar plays softly, in the background of a critiqued ball room as he made his entrance. The attention of the audience fell upon him; As he walked readily towards the dance floor, The melody of the flute and the rhythm of the bass guitar, Dramatized his beauty. The spectators in fear, but his passion so real, As I stared into his eyes, that made beauty felt unreal everything else that surrounded me disappeared. He focused his eyes on the dance floor they began to whisper; Who will he choose? Who has to leave now? He flashed his eyes upon the viewers that were once in shock, now in terror, but their facial expression in awe. The apothegm states that he continually seeks for the one that would heal his disease but bound to the power of the earth’s forces, his determined, stunning eyes will never be able to reveal, the secret one that can heal. The bass drums play wildly as he shows the crowd his fury. The once stunned viewers now begin to panic, but I draw myself closer. Before I could reach him someone else got in the way. “I would like to die” was the words I know her to repeatedly say. He gently pushed himself away in anger. He looked around the ball room, and observed the reaction of the audience to his response. They’re now in astonishment. He then stopped and his focal point was clear. The piano and the cello played softly to become one with his voice. He said to me “let us dance.” I’m frightened, the majority of the onlookers left in a daze. My vision weakened before our dance began. He smiled, and as he looked upon my face all the instruments faded away. He said to me is this your last dance? Will you leave us tonight? I’m the kiss of death will you close your eyes forever or will you leave me in delight?”
something to do
with the Munich Putsch
and going out
on to the school
That hot lips chick
is waving to you
from the outer fence
and so off you went
to go kick ball
with others on the field
and as you strolled
she came towards you
leaving her giggling friends
behind and met you
half way on the field
I dreamed of you last night
her voice floated
for a moment or two
and you saw across
Rolland head the ball
towards the goal
between two jumpers left
on the ground
then looked back at her
with her dark brown hair
and you said
Did I behave?
And she took your hand
and walked you across
the field slowly
Of course you did
wishing you could
have shared her dream
making it your own
she squeezed your hand
Do you dream of me?
trying to make the lie
convincing you dramatized
a scene that never happened
and she smiled
and you noticed
out of the corner
of your eye
Rolland kicking the ball
goal ward and waving
his hand then
the boundary of the field
at the wood’s edge
she kissed you
on the cheek and said
I’m glad you dream
of me as well
and lay her head
upon your arm
and soon you knew
the bell would ring
for end of play
smelling her perfume
and shampooed hair
kissing her head
dream of her
for the first time
I have switched to mechanics
The pen and the paper are morning my bemuse
The organic matter is dying just
Artificial forced relationships
With penetrative remarks
The tiny prism in the back of my mind
Where I can not stake out the feelings
It is forcing me to convulse on this awful thing
Those white walls are suppose to fool you
Repudiating that they are of silence
Do not placate me young sir
I know that’s were things come to a halt
You enlist them into your nihilistic theories
They can not see cyclical processes
The influxes of hysteria
that inevitably ward out the insurgency
No you claim them among the broken
Make them scared of large boxes with no windows
But does it even matter
The black matter had cast them to the seductress anyhow
The very seductress, whose embodiment of good and evil fools even me
Can she not see the rampant fires?
The cages that are cracking
As the mice turn on each other
Or is it calculated
Politically over dramatized to fool even the most sincere
You remind me of my mother
and the United States government
The will call my a conspirator
But ill know you never landed on the moon
And even if you did
You didn’t caress its very surface
You didn’t risk your life
to just inhale the fumes of a memorial
It was nothing more then capitalist foot hold in outer space to you
No matter how much you sing about it
And what for me?
I could fix you in one splash of a recall
But that wouldn’t change the fact that the gears are all out of whack
And the turnstiles
can’t see color anymore
I am growing blinder everyday
But I can never find my oracle under all this rubbish
He has possessed me that
Flying gingerbread monkey
Before this I liked solidarity
Juggling my own fortunes
My own soggy breath fill up the window signs
Now I am a menacing
Ravished house beast
Revering for him to make me categories and pie charts
This isn’t the competition that he enlisted for
But maybe will make it just five weeks and completely meaningless topics we will become the foremost informant
Populously used factoids over martinis
God know me and the monkey are socially retarded
As this thing of forsaken design
has morphed into a manifestation of everything wrong with my punitive inception
We must talk about the alcohol.
Dwindling alone a poor and empty bottle
no worries it will have friends
Should I be concerned about my physical stability?
Not really I rather like bisecting my liver
and pouring to the brim
No its that I don’t enjoy it ,,,,,alcoholics are suppose to be a jolly breed
Why else would AA be so giggly?
I have tried to reform and it won’t be in vain
I won’t give up the dream
and succumb to a lobotomy
Just cause I Cant hold my liqueur
This is worse then the torah
A bigger degradation then the bible
If only I had cried for the proletariat
Then I would be famous
But even though the trances are fun
And the posterior eradicating
OH dark and shifty friend I have missed You!
And I do mourn in some postulated manner
for the orphans
But they would have made it out of their capsules
if you just gave them time
I’m so tired but mostly from you
I am tired of other things too
By other things, too
You are not the only thing on my mind
but you take up most of the vacancy
and everything else is pushed to the sides and pressing against my ears
christ I can hardly hear
I am so sore but I keep walking like my shoes aren’t too tight
like my dress looks fine
like it’s not riding up the back of my butt and exposing my ass for all the city to see
this is not happening instead I am busy slideshowing myself
the first time we met then the second time we met
then I am fast forwarding to when we first had sex and how I was so loud
your grandma hated me after that
I am so busy but the papers keep stacking
and I’m just some filthy college slut who can hardly handle her final critiques
all I want to do is call you and hope you’ll eagerly pick up
or even want to pick up
or even pick up
but instead all that is between us is a missed call that I can’t take back
and a bunch of papers that I have to examine with amazing skill
I know I don’t have
I should get my priorities straight, the bathub is grimy
my nails are bloody
my grandmother is sick
I am not a kid anymore and you are not my boyfriend
and what we had was really quite terrible and how
dare I sentimentalize a kiss on the cheek or a squeezing of hips to mean
that you promise to love me eternally how dare I act as though I am fourteen
with braces of steel and a heart made of mush and a brain filled with lies from
dramatized shows flickering in my room in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep and my periods heavy and my arms are too fat along with my thighs and I’m thinking of true love and when I’ll get that
It’s quite hard to concentrate
the cement has cracks
my forehead is sweaty and my face is red
it is hot outside and wish you were here to lick the sweat off my chest and boldly say
“does that feel good baby” but you’d say it in such a boyish way but I would still get turned on but I hate you now because I am too busy for you to be all over my mind when I have other things to do it’s all your fault if I fail out of college it’s all your fault if I don’t get the masters program I wanted and it’s all your fault I can’t concentrate at all
the sky is gray and work is shitty and the missed call is still pending and blinking and buzzing on your phone
I’m sure you notice it and I’m sure you’re home and free and able to see that
calling me back would make me happy
I shouldn’t have called I shouldn’t have called I shouldn’t have called god!
you haven’t been in my bedroom in over a month
and I haven’t cried either
and I haven’t gossiped about you to any of my friends
the paint is wet on the canvas
and my jaw is clenched
and I am thinking of you and that is all