Why does everything that makes sense
Get hung up on a fence?
And every thing that doesn't gets emergency delivery In an ambulance
So I'm throwin' down lightning bolts like Zues while I'm in this booth
They tell me not to lie, but they can't handle the truth
A sinister minister lookin' for a simple cure
You can have my lady, cause she's just a lady and I don't call her baby, but maybe if it gets hot out you can give her back when I need it shady, cause she's a shady women she's a crazy lady
I'm kickin' down, tokin' up
Sipping down the fifth of jack in my cup
One night stands, smeared numbers on my hands, this wasn't my plan, but I'm takin' advantage while I can
Fall in lust for a perky bust, I can go forever before I bust
It's a must for me to leave you on the bus cause love won't get you into nothin' but a fuss
I know you feel like you trust, but I'm a rolling stone not your boss and don't you know the saying " a rolling stone gathers no moss"?
Why does everything that makes sense
Get hung up on a fence?
And every thing that doesn't gets emergency delivery In an ambulance
So I'm throwin' down lightning bolts like Zues while I'm in this booth
They tell me not to lie, but they can't handle the truth
Strikingly frightening creating electricity with simplicity like lightning
And if you ain't heard this, it's worthless for me to be a wordsmith, you and your absurdness can go jump out a birds nest
Stay down when you hit the ground, go pound for pound
Or get on my level and go toe to toe with the devil
I'm hot as a tea kettle
Put me back on the stove,
watch me rise from the flame
and blossom like a rose!
Why does everything that makes sense
Get hung up on a fence?
And every thing that doesn't gets emergency delivery In an ambulance
So I'm throwin' down lightning bolts like Zues while I'm in this booth
They tell me not to lie, but they can't handle the truth
-J.A.M
The siren sat on the rock and sighed
The ocean had exhausted her lungs
She exhaled the pain she felt inside
A beautiful cry of weeping songs
The waves crash and drape the shore
Drawing the limits of her blue cage
Far beyond, is a dream to explore
A better chapter on a new page
As she sings a symphony of despair
Winds coming from beyond the sands
Refresh her lungs with tender scents
Gently caress her skin, dry her red hair
Echoes of her voice
Fascinated an elephant passing by
His heart made a choice
And searched for the origin of the cry
Never knew he could run
Never knew he could jump
He found her shining under the sun
Came closer to lift her with his trump
He carried her through fields and lakes of mud
On his back, her throne, the lap of God
Her sad songs turned into cheers
Her voice fondled his big ears
She lived and cherished each moment
She found a world without torment
Without her fears
Without her tears
Days and weeks raced to end
The elephant’s back started to ache
He forsake his new friend
And fated her heart to break
The mermaid broke down and cried
A waterfall of deceit and betrayal
Too many tears until her eyes dried
Like the dying scales on her tail
She crawled back to the sea
Like an injured soldier of war
No more beauty for her to see
But the waves, whipping the shore
Filling every time the holes
Between the particles of sand
But not the one in her soul
That she will never mend
The siren sat on the rock and sighed
She had nowhere to belong
She exhaled the pain she felt inside
Reviving another weeping song
The sweet dream withered
But forever, will be remembered
Like a mortal flower
And its immortal beauty
Intertwined with the thorns’ cruelty
Another siren was watching her
Shared with her the lost endeavor
She smiles, dives and flips her tail
Strives to create her own happy tale
In the depths of the woeful sea
~Epic Monkey
June 2013
You're sixteen years old, and you know
how to write an essay in under an hour. You know
how many paragraphs you will need, and what part of a text you need to
rip apart,
just so you can
put it back together like you want (need) it to be.
You've been alive for sixteen years and
you've smoked everything your parents
told you not to,
you've felt the ache in your lungs and
the burn at the back of your throat,
you've woken up in pain and felt regret
and you've made it passed that (mostly).
You're sixteen years old and you know why half the world
is starving, but you don't know why you're not
allowed to give them food, you don't know why
your parents wont let you race
across the world to (attempt to) save a starving child.
You've been alive for sixteen years and you know
what it feels like to be left at the supermarket while your mother
rushes of to get 'another type of pasta'
or 'just one more piece of fruit',
you learnt (learning) pretty early
what being alone
felt like.
You're sixteen years old and you've memorized
more songs than you probably should have
and you fell in love
with the idea of love before
you had even truly
felt it for yourself. One day, you promise,
you will escape (be at peace with) this body
you have been so unwillingly trapped in,
you will visit cities you didn't even know existed
and watching sunrises with a stranger that you love,
you will tear them apart,
pin them down,
forcing your love into their dying lungs.
we shared a camel
after my thumb stopped you
I took the first drag
before I handed it to you
you trusted my spit enough to share
and my road look enough
for me to be there,
in your new Olds Eighty-eight
you
had just come back,
from there
I was on my way,
I did not ask if that was why
your right hand had only two fingers
and a thumb, though you told me
of trying to close an APC hatch
and the AK-47 round that kept you
from doing magic tricks
when our smoke was half gone, we passed
the dying neon of a long dead bar
safe from its stench in your new smelling car
was then you asked
if I had “anything else to smoke”
a line from our riddled anthem,
we sang like nursery rhyme
I had what I had stuffed in my socks
since thumbs attracted cops as well
as wounded warriors in shiny new rides
I piggy lit the joint with the fag before
I crushed it in your fresh ash tray
now we were sharing our deepest breaths
and whatever else we could not forget
the weed was gone by the time
we reached the last city lights
and we, in our flying chariot,
zipped into the black desert night, it
was then your demons began to howl
maybe it was a full moon that called them out
to ride on its beams into the starry sky
where they could dance with other devils
and gods who had forsaken them, and you
I did not understand your moans, your tears
or the song you played on the eight track
that chanted about freedom which could not be bought or sold
or to whom you spoke when you wailed
you were sorry, sorry again and again,
I only knew they were ghosts
spirits kept at bay by the light of day
but there to haunt you in the dark
“Reggie, Big Mike and Cleveland”
all silent as you begged them
to forgive you for some simmering sin
I could not understand,
(not then in the desert dark,
though one day I would beseech other ghosts
to let me off the hook as well)
your cries did stop when you turned
onto a rutted desert road,
where you put the pedal to the floor
and the rocks pocked the undercarriage
like machine gun fire
you stopped,
and popped out the eight track
a half mile from highway 54
I lit another camel in the synovial silence
your tears kept streaming down your face
but you no longer called out to the ghosts, perhaps
left behind you on that black highway
I don’t know if they spoke to you
when I handed you the smoke, you did
look around, as if someone was there
before reaching over to open my door…
I did not ask why you were leaving me
with the moon and the stars and the sand,
so far from the lights and sound, or why
I could not feel my feet when
they touched the ground, the last thing
I saw was your dust filling the rumbling air
and the orange glow of the camel
flying through the blue night
I'm dying everyday
drowning with each
pinched breath I take
sinking below myself
caverns & deep sea canyons
open up
offer themselves
as I'm acquainted with
corals & anemones
new friends of me
accepting this shipwrecked soul
just passing through
before settling
wherever my bottom is
every rock I meet
finds me tumbling
spilling out over
heavy enough
that my wreckage
pulls me deeper
leagues farther underneath
finding contact but not finding an end
There is a clock ticking on the wall.....
I hear every second, every minute, every hour as it ticks away.
I can hear it....but I cant see it.
There is an hourglass sitting on the table....
the sand pours through and I can see as every second,
every minute, every hour falls away.
I can see it, but I cannot hear it,
or taste, nor immediately feel it.
What is it that really defines time?
We break things down to milliseconds
but our brains do not have the capacity to really register it.
Yesterday, I stood in the rain
put my head to the sky and let the drops hit my face.
It only takes a millisecond for the drop to fall on my lips,
but it takes three times that for my brain to realize it.
My sister was born and then I blinked....
and she will be starting school this year.
I am scared to blink again, honestly.
I want so desperately to pretend it doesn't exist,
that the restraints of time are something we simply made up.
Then, I see my grandparents,
and the increase in the number of wrinkles on their faces,
and I know that the only thing that this could be blamed on is
....time.
I feel us...
Growing and shifting and changing...
and separating.
Becoming more and more different with each passing day.
When we first met things were not like this.
Sometimes it seems that day was just yesterday,
then we fight and I know we are drifting.
And I hate it!!
I wish I could go back...
in time.
My life, your life, their lives, are passing
Not enough done in a solitude day..
and we are all falling behind.
The last generation is dying out.
Our generation is growing up,
we are taking over and we are not prepared...
Yet, there is just no way
that we could ever stop time.
i am starting to get bad again
my heart ceasing to an empty end
yet my mind's overloading
satisfied with drugs, pain, and dying
uncontrollable shakes
forced harming to wake
no signs of courage
restless and wornout image
my heart stops beating
and my head starts pounding
i am starting to get bad again
and i am craving for my dead end.
-djs
try to rewind but the tape is
strung out
on too many sleepless nights
spent fighting the drugs
desperate for the voice
at the end of the line
but it’s dying
to be anywhere else
but in the dark
about where we’re supposed to be
going
from here
to your mom’s house
on the other side of the county line
cause I’ll follow you anywhere
believe just about anything
gullible
that’s the word you
used
me didn’t you
how could I be so
blind
that I couldn’t see
the truth was
you never loved me.
Baby breathe, I begging you baby just breathe
I'm trying I'm already dying without you please
I can't stand this life without you I can't live with all the pain
I can't walk around and pretend like your passing hasn't left me insane
I see my life ahead of me and without you it isn't good
Your the one who kept me on track when no one else ever could
That's why I'm begging you, fallen helplessly on my knees
Baby if you could please just breathe.
It was 4:22 in the afternoon.
He had gotten out of work late
Because his boss decided to wait
Until the last minute to drop an atom
Bomb of files on his desk to be sorted.
His fingers burned from the cuts
Like residual radiation.
His coffee mug, emptied
Except for the last few, chilled
Drops, rested on his lap.
He hadn't been able to make
It to the public bus stop in time
So he jumped aboard the nearest
Subway train, found a seat in the
Middle of the next to last car,
And eyed his route on the
Map like a pinball in a machine.
For the first thirty minutes,
He stared intently at his mug,
Studying the smudges around the
Opening where his lips had been
Pressed into like a soft kiss.
It took him back to a time when
Kisses were like currency between
Him and his ex-lover, and each
Were more than generous.
Just as he began to imagine
The way her silk bra felt on his
Fingertips, a foul odor passed by the
Tip of his nose without saying excuse me.
His eyes searched the car until they
Fell upon the teenager sitting just six
Seats down, a white cylinder fitted between
Her fingers like a pencil tucked behind the ear.
"Excuse me, miss. You're not allowed
To smoke here."
His hand waved absently in front
Of his face in an attempt to
Dissipate the smell while her hand
Waved absently in his direction
In an attempt to dissipate his presence.
"I already know this."
His brow furrowed as he
Watched her take another hit,
Blowing the smoke out her nose.
"Then put it out, please."
She lifted her eyes from the novel
Clutched in her other hand
Before replying.
"I don't think I will."
If it had been any other day,
At any other time,
He would have
Dropped the
Subject.
But his mind was
Warped with toxic fumes,
And his vision was cloudy,
His legs were shaking.
He slid down the conjoined seats
Until he was only three spaces
Away from her annoyed posture.
"Now listen, dear. This is a subway,
A form of public transportation,
Not a coffee shop where you can
Just flick your ashes onto every
Available surface.
There are families aboard
This car, families who shouldn't
Be forced to inhale your second-hand smoke."
He took a deep breath, eyeing her expression.
She flipped a page and continued reading,
The cigarette hanging from her lips
Like a diver poised to jump.
"Excuse me, miss, but.."
Just as he had begun speaking,
She tossed her book on the empty
Seat beside her and leaned forward,
Resting her elbows on her knees
As she gazed intently at him.
"I don't imagine you're one of
Those self-righteous types who
Boss people around on principle,
So I'm going to explain this to you."
She held up her cigarette in front
Of her face, forcing him to look,
Despite his stunned expression.
She pointed to the padded,
White area where the
Imprint of her lips resided.
"You see this? I call this happiness.
This is every boy I ever kissed,
Every apology I didn't mean,
Every argument I won,
Every smile that ever
Stretched across my face."
She pointed to the dark,
Crumbled substance at the end.
"This is what I call misery.
This is every heart I ever broke,
Every dollar I ever stole,
Every cut I ever
Inflicted on
Myself."
She held
The cigarette
Loosely in her
Fingers as she spoke.
"If you notice, as I smoke it,
The misery goes up on smoke,
And the happiness remains."
She tossed it across the car.
"Some people have scrapbooks
Where they keep their memories
So they can refer to them as
Often as they please.
Some people go to therapy
To hash out every feeling they
Refuse to deal with. But I
Live with my memories,
And I carry them with
Me, but when the
Miserable ones
Seem to overtake
The happy ones. I simply
Smoke them away. So if you
Are so insistent on taking away
My cigarettes, then I suggest you
Burn every scrapbook and pencil
And pill bottle you can find,
Because this is my escape."
She leaned back in her
Seat, staring authoritatively.
His lips parted several times before
He reached into his pocket and removed
An orange bottle with a white cap.
He twisted the top off and
Poured a single pill
Into his empty hand.
"The yellow side is
Every girl I fell in love with
Every vacation I ever took
Every baseball game I
Ever watched.
The red side
Is every girl
Who broke my heart.
Every day I see my boss.
And every evening I
Sit alone in the dark."
He tucked the pill back
Into the bottle like he was
Putting a child to sleep.
She eyed him curiously,
Watching as he fondled
The bottle in his hand.
"This is my escape."
His eyes lifted,
Meeting hers.
"I'll trade you."
Pursed lips met
With indecision
Until she pulled
Her pack of cigarettes
From her leather purse
And tossed them on his lap.
"We're all dying slowly anyway."
