Miss Percival's famous jell-o molds were
the talk of every summer block party.
No one was sure where she had come up with
exotic shapes that adorned red benches
robins, and faces of famous people
they really were a thing to be envied.
One Memorial Day, though, there came a shriek from Miss Percival's kitchen
and the flowery curtains shuffled as they did so
The first ones in (the couple that brought the waldorf salad every year. It was good, but it was nothing next to Miss P's jell-o molds)
were Mr. and Mrs. Carroway
Mrs. Carroway almost fainted when she saw what was on the counter
You see, Miss Percival was fond of one site for her molds
and they shipped them in every month in big brown crates
there was a big brown crate, to be sure
but no mold inside
It isn't proper to gossip, but I heard that it was a bowl full of eyeballs;
A medical school had put the wrong address on their order.
I bet that there was a confused batch of medical students
being stared at by a jell-o model of Walter Cronkite.
I am calmer
when I do not wear
on my wrist.
The seconds do not tick past my skin,
like they do when I wear a watch.
I have enough time to become the waves of the ocean;
rays of warm sun against backs sitting on hills with friends.
I have enough time to learn how to love people,
and love myself.
I am limiting myself. We are limiting each other.
We do not have time to sit around
and calm down
because we're always pushing ourselves to the next spot.
Watching the curtains flutter was relaxing,
the window was open wide letting in a breeze,
it was evening but the air was warm,
and there was a strong smell in the air,
a summer smell,
it was one of those intense nostalgic kind of smells,
that flare up emotions with old memories,
and people in the gardens were laughing and drinking.
We were lying down on a mattress on the floor in your dad’s room,
my pale white skin touching against your beautiful Arabic skin,
the colour of coffee.
A perfect mixture, sweet coffee and milk,
surely we were made for each other?
And you had your tiny arm wrapped around my waist,
your soft hand holding my chest,
and on my back I could feel your small breasts,
and your lips breathing hot breath down my neck
I was almost asleep.
In Orange County
In Orange County, Californiyay,
When you arrive at John Wayne Airport,
No need to show driver license or passport,
But be prepared for inspection to gain entry.
Are your teeth white enough to light the roads?
Is your navel hairless and clean enough to be licked?
Do you have two tats, if not, get going back
If your not blonde, produce pictures of your parents,
In any event, law demands, go directly to the colorist!
Everybody smiles and says hello, so friendly,
But having mastered the technique of doing so
While looking over and past you, rest assured,
Your New York sensibilities of ignoring the movie star
Sitting next to you on the subway feels like the ultimate,
In this place the sun never sets, which is why the citizens
Have sunglasses surgically attached to their heads.
Have not seen a big nose 'cept mine
Being looked down on from people who by law
Must be a minimum of six feet tall.
Need my gritty, need my cabbies giving me the finger,
Need the senior citizens fighting tooth and elbow for anything on sale,
Need my rivers, need to bleed orange and blue,
Need my ballet, my museums, my rude compatriots,
Who rush to your side when you sidewalk stumble,
Who never judge a book by its cover,
Cause the jerk next to you is likely the author.
Who open their pockets and hearts to every needy person,
Hand extended, give 'em a buck, genuinely wish 'em God Bless,
They who let us share the fabric, woof and weave of our
City streets, their homes...
I got beach, I got mountains,
So maybe they're not visible from my living room,
But I got more living in the hearts of my fellow Yorkers,
Than there are grains of sands on the beaches of
The masses don't know shit and owe me zip
can't take care of ourselves wounded animals
giving others the slip, taking over the streams
water runs the show charging people just to sip
Birds flaunt their freedom over the tree tops
and through the cracks the envious
four legged things that slither
eyes p e e k i n g out of the dark thicket
wanting to fuck each-other over
People maintain they evolved
from risen apes
but some think we're fallen angles
who raised the stakes
I think we just got better and faking
the whole time
justifying our destructive nature
Culture is the collapse of something greater
^ My friend Mike Alvarez Introduced me to his wonderful work.
I call it head change music haha. It is a fantastic blend of Electronic & Dubstep music.
I asked him ever so nicely to write a poem based off his song thoughtful...
This is the poem, How Thoughtful-- Thanks Mike! ( Aka. KoNNa-ReBoRN)
I know I haven't been
Not being able
If you're fine.
That pop up
People ask the
I'm too afraid to
You say you're fine,
That you're recovering.
I don't even know
So I just think of
But most importantly,
I still know
I think of
I really pray
You're doing fine, mam.
And I'm sorry
I can't talk,
Even when I do
It never seems
When I see your message,
But I have no idea
And you just sit there
On the other side of your
With two ticks
At the end
Of your message
And the status says
I know you try,
Try to cheer me up
With the occassional
Or random quote
To spur me on.
And I just lay there,
With one hand on the phone
And the other
For the sheets,
In the darkness,
Wiping the tears
The stars in the sky,
The leaves from the trees,
From the bottom of my heart,
Something needs to be left unsaid.
Except some people loves to speak to cause others harm.
For the cheaters that creep.
What's the purpose of telling?
Notice that these suddenly high and mighty moralists wasn't thinking straight at first.
Some people has profit greatly from their dirty work.
For every sin within the world.
You find them all in the holy bible.
Solomon, the one many uses in sermon as wise.
Was no different than his father?
Who had a mistress on the side.
Like, I something needs to be left unsaid.
Cause those doing wrong will play like your words don't needs to be heard.
Secrets needs to be hidden from a few.
Cause the harm you done to others.
With eventually comes back upon you.
We know the line-those without sin shouldn't cast the first stone.
But there's always some that do.
And then feels hurt when their past emerges.
Just remember nobody's perfect.
you petty people should thank me
for all the work i've done.
what work, may you ask?
why, have you not read a classic?
have you not heard beautiful orchestral music?
don't tell me i'm worthless!
for from my invisible loins have sprung
millions of brilliant works
admired by humans on a daily basis.
why do humans seek love
when the route to me is less ragged?
what did love ever bring to the table?
artwork? literature? no!
the novels you read about passionate lovers
springs from the very emotion that i behold!
love never typed or scripted
or sang or acted
for it is me--sadness!--who spins the earth.
he's crazed! you may gasp
but when my influence finds you
it'll seep from the music notes
and drip from printed words
like the blood of a slit vein
(which, may i humbly add,
i have also given rise to)
and overcome your mind likewise
to the countless others
doubtful of my solitary strength.
but nonetheless my beautiful wrath is here to stay
in the form of human emotion and creation
but i will never succumb to my own nature
i enjoy my work.
I just want to get under the covers
My head aches and years for sleep
Under the covers, it's like an oven
I lay my head down
And close my eyes
I toss and turn
Until I'm fine for the night
My back that ached
My neck that pained
All the depression
Was flushed away
As i lay down
I feel the comfort
I feel the softness,
As soft as feathers
I fall asleep without delay
When i wake up
It will be day
People, people !
Oh dear people!
I've slept like a baby
Like a new born son
Filled with laughter and love
The feathers in my pillow
The springs in my bed
Made me sleep soundly
While resting my head
I dreamt of a whole new life
Which i can spend
During the night
While i was asleep
I dreamt of angels
The bed that i layed on
Was a cloud so soft
Which i relaxed on
The bitter end
Oh, why did it have to come?
Could i not stay
In this Heaven?
If you wait long enough and allow the silence that roams through the air to stream into your system, you will be lucky enough to see Her in Her wake. Who, you ask? Our Earth.
You can just about see Her blink in the clouds, and Her blue pupils in the vast sky. As she wakes Her little souldiers up and prepares the day for Her people. You can see a driven arachnid as it pulls for its little significant life up the bark of a strong standing tree that was able to handle its own through the night time, with none but a natural rope.
You can see the winged pilots as they take off into the open blue. If you listen carefully enough, maybe you can hear the sweet messages hidden in the midst of their honey-like twitter. You can see the newly dressed Autumn leaf let go of the water droplets it has used through the night as though sweating after a long night's work.
You can hear the young laughter of the first few children as they run about free in a field of their own, you can almost smell their candy-scented breaths. You can see the shadows of the trees as they drag away on the ground, just before they retire for the day. As the dusk progresses, The Sun smiles brighter because it knows that it has human spirits to cheer up, a human duty that it so happily performs.
In the night, I will thank Her for the beauty that she bears and welcome The Night with free sense, for He sings a beautiful lullaby to put Her and Her hard-working souldiers to rest.
And if you listen just right, you can hear His perfect rhythm of nature so that you may sleep as peacefully as She is.