Sometimes I open my blinds at night
So I can look into the stars
Until I am satisfied I fall asleep
Then dream of you
And when we used to look at the stars
So long ago now
I wonder if you ever think about me
Not a day goes by where I don't think about you
And every star in that never ending sky
Reminds me of us
How many good times we had
And the flow of memories twinkle at me
Mocking my loneliness
Spilling the tears down my cheeks
Blurring my vision
The stars are fuzzy and I hate him
He can never know
How slowly I'll let go
I'm stronger than that...
My minds filled with word banks
the ink spills, the words paint
a collage of love and hate,
Do you believe that destiny is the same as fate?
I write because something inside of me wants to escape.
Confiding in writing my thoughts often keep me awake.
Wake and bake.
Underneath you right now the earth shakes.
Time will tell if I will float or if I'll sank.
I use to meditate with Swisher's filled with Mary Jane.
Temporarily paralyzing the thoughts I think.
Leaving my dreams suspended we in a police state.
They're slowly building a fence around and locking the gate.
A fish in these waters I seen so many take the bait.
We all replaceable babies born to take our place.
Stay confident like Babe when I step up to the plate.
I'm freeing my people from mental slavery everyday.
I know Harriet and Sojourner would be proud of Me
I'm risking my freedom for people that I aint' even met
My mother would like me to join forces and become a vet
But I'm expressing thoughts that have the FEDS coming at your neck.
Like Martin, Malcolm, and Johnny was all put in check,
At times I wonder who is next?
For the three men above all I have is respect. They showed
Courage Peace and Love feelings I can emulate, reflect
cause in the face of Fear you have to learn and adapt.
Expect the unexpected and maintain aware developed minds
avoiding traps and filthy raps slowing down the hands of time
My brain starts to tingle I can feel it calculating rhymes
like news producers silence the truth and
constantly turning up the lies.
Dying is inevitable, Lives flash before our eyes.
Her skins as dark as the universe and her eyes as blue as the sky.
I've been through the lowest of lows that's why I'm constantly getting high
to ease the pain and break the chains I spread my wings to fly
to an eminent death when there's nothing left I love ones start to cry
and the only thing we can do about it is ask the Lord Whyyy?
"Yea, my country tis of thee, Sweet land of kill em all and let em die.
God Bless America"- Lil Wayne
an hour to swallow a tide of sparks
This cozy infinity in pages frantically hoped to never write
Curling into a soft bed and finding only depressing postures
A shine that aims to cull and cut away the taste
Of a rose and the thorns it holds
The purpose of guilt and giving in like lungs that scratch
And cough up some blue beauty to see what could be.
Winter wants nothing but the pretty girl in a grey coat
Birdcage ribs and haloes over hair and horizon
Sleeping is a shroud to turn and rip out a breath
A thin cloth bound as a vein below pale skin
A script to crush and coil about a heaving chest
By the sun through the clouds is a light in a secular place.
A little kick as the floral dress tears easily into abrupt dialogue
Black death lips desired for a cursive speech
Goes to the lap of shade and grieves what loss has been
With a spilled touch to praise in forsaken tones
An hour to swallow a tide of sparks
Bitter as the blossom taking shape in the windowpane.
Frowning brows as the weight slips back
To shoulders broken by and out of passion
The slow, calm, nervous loss as the petals drop
An accident, to swear the truth of lust
And as heavy as the sky
Falls deeper and deeper again.
the wick the fire
the lick of my hair with
the spit that holds it together
and I've been a radio never ending
counting the days of holding it-- forever
as wide as the ocean and I expand
as a blank state to be violated
tone deaf to my own cries
i am willful apart from my sore feet
weak and unresponsive
this frame upholds these acidic reactions
through the manifestation of the ejection
of my solemn protest
a cosmical request they ask for
drinking for a tinkle later
urine splashes on a bathroom floor
privilege is a blessing not guaranteed
dancing on gravestones restless
upon poetic licenses and with composure aligned
towards the lines of our sky.
and I beg
I beg to be someone more exciting
I beg to accept my lies.
black spider, white birch
When black spider wove one first web
Western sun found lightly mouth
For little things to catch themselves
Dewdrops, beads, and spoiling milk
Tree-trunk dripped for water’s fell
Some honeyed bough suspended from
Which lounging as to when’s black cloud
For sweetness to encircle shroud.
The speckled frost lit glass threads
With beaming spark and glow swelled
Forth golden glorious hues echoed
Wheatgrass and shadowed frond while
King snake worms below thrash odd
Made oblivious activity fruitful slow
By beak slips cold through tiny holes
Embarked repulsive gradual.
Through dullness peaked once, nor again
Might wither forward staggering
Blissful and intense yet brief
Enough for lacking thoughts drawn wolves
To many ropes with branches towed
Above while slumped and swung alone
Discordant just above the snow
By Winter’s end outlined in bone.
White birch hung one thousand first
Murky water, living earth bends
Life from limb stretched limp and thin
Mildewed mountainous barrens far from
Machinery, metal, and wood tips sky
Outpouring Spring’s heavy night rains
Where memory with disappears straight
There black spider drags slender paint.
Staring into the the white-blue sky,
Up at a skeleton tree
Who shed it's red, yellow, gold leaves
And shook it's branches at me.
"Go home, my love, it's bitterly cold."
Light words mixed in the wind.
But home isn't home without a heart
And it's broken with no chance of a mend.
Writing down my mellow, calm thoughts
And singing about the rain.
Icy and hard spitting at me,
Causing discomfort and pain.
Night falls soon in the wintertime,
Telling me summer's long gone.
But I refuse to accept that fact,
Since he still won't answer his phone.
The tree and I, we sit side by side
Beside this near frozen lake.
Awaiting a natural disaster of sorts,
A tornado, or an earthquake
To rip us from our sturdy roots
And cast us into the sky
Where we can face our most horrid fears,
And from here we can fly.
There's a ringing in my right ear.
I hum to block it out.
The hum becomes annoying.
Neither side of the pillow is the cold side.
My lungs are the first casualty from the war in my head.
That jolt you get when you fall in your dreams and you wake up with your heart beating.
That hasn't gone away for awhile now.
It's like I'm just waiting to hit the ground.
Caught in this constant free fall of fear.
I can't seem to shake the shakes.
Found a picture from last night with a cigarette in my mouth.
I don't smoke though.
There's a rainbow somewhere and over that is where I'm looking to go.
I'm sick of sad songs.
I'm sick of happy songs.
I'm sick of silence and the low murmur of my 10 dollar box fan.
I hate everything that's on my walls.
I'd rather just pitch a tent and call it camp kill yourself. Population me.
Scribble thoughts as they come. I've been doing it for years.
I thought I would find purpose in it, but I still don't know why I write what I think.
No one else cares and I sure as hell don't.
I wish I wouldn't ask so much from the sky when I don't appreciate it as is.
Everything is wrong.
I could be as broad as the side of the barn or as specific as ice cubes in the Ramen.
Waiting for the day the Sun doesn't come up.
On top of that, there's something wrong with the lights.
Our hunting party chased the thundering herd
over the endless plains from the sunrise
into the sunset with her splendid colors
resting for the time being.
We abandoned the prosperous foray
as the Great Spirit’s
twinkling diamonds began to cover,
spill like milk across the cold night sky
with great blessings.
Somewhere the coyotes laughed.
The fires raged high, danced shadows on our faces
as we sat cross-legged, describing the day’s events
with much fervor. Tall Crow Chief and Crooked Nose
laughed like children when they talked about their kills.
Those two had great skill when it came to hunting Tatonka.
As I listened wearily, the voices of my tribesmen
began to sound muffled, things felt more surreal,
I could not comprehend their words, which seemed eerily to go silent.
As if in a trance, my wanton-mind drifted with sensuous thoughts,
floating in space, back to my pretty maiden waiting in my lodge,
a full three-days ride from this manly-place.
I envisioned us both naked,
wrapped in each other’s gentle-arms,
her underneath me on top,
she submitting to my will,
my fervent desire to seed her
with my fiery warrior spirit.
She is a spectacular sight to be seen!
Her thick flowing hair is like the pitch of the night
with a voice like the nightingale,
keen-eyes as dark as raven’s tail feathers.
Her sienna-skin smooth as white man’s silk,
she has a strong feminine-sinew grip,
nips at my neck in
our primal ecstasy-states.
flow like a cascade with lovely fragrance,
sweet as sweet grass in the Spring.
I cannot ignore her tender kisses
when I release, when I spring forth.
Her sighs comfort me like none other,
her eager pushes to get more of me,
every single drop of me,
makes this hunt worthwhile.
A shy smile and an
Ocean in your eyes
They glimmer like the moon's reflection
On the gently moving waters
As the tide pulls your heart to mine
Lets chase down the dusty cloud
That follows you and outrun all your demons
I see galaxies of love and loss
In the depth of those crystal blue waters
Soft skin to hide the calluses
Beneath the surface
Reserved and withdrawn, but trying-
You're more beautiful than you know.
The way you shy away but slowly
Spill the innermost workings of your
Heart draws me to you.
You're not so fragile.
You think the sun shines out of my eyes, But
that it sets in yours. I think you're right.
And even though we're looking at the same scene,
I see the pinks and oranges set ablaze on the horizon
Followed by the shining night sky.
If they saw through my bones to what’s inside of my soul
They would see me for me- and not who they think I might be.
The stinging words I hear them speak…
They spit venom so casually, not knowing they’re actually talking about me.
But what they know is what they’ve been told, which they base on the moral beliefs that they hold,
But they can’t see that that sinner is me- the only reason they even took a second look.
But if they could take just one more, to the depths of my soul way beyond the shore,
Maybe they would see the scrapes on both of my knees
From the days I spent praying to God to spare my soul from this thing plaguing me.
Maybe they would feel the rips in my lungs from screaming out to the sky to be rid of my depraved mind.
But if they could see the scars from the blade I used to penetrate my skin
To cut through to the sin and bleed out all my inner demons,
Maybe they could they see my heart sinking in my chest at the dinner table
When my family talked about their disgust
And have you seen the pool of tears I’ve been choking back
Since the first time I realized I was trapped
In this sinful body with these sinful tendencies
That build up like scum corrupting the inside of me?
But even still my heart felt so pure
With the butterflies in my stomach when I first saw her.
And it didn’t feel like it should feel wrong.
But it did feel wrong when I stood along
As these godly people talked about chapels and steeples
And churches and marriage between a man and a woman,
And how anything else is simply perverted.
But in my mind, I just don’t feel
Like this sin is any more or less real
Than any of those their condemning mouths have committed.
But somehow still I’m the one to be pitied-
Or even still to be ignored.
Like, maybe if we shun her she’ll know she doesn’t have our support.
Because God knows that a smile or a kind word to someone feeling alone
Could easily communicate to them that you openly condone
Every single thing in their life that they might be doing wrong.
But answer me this if you know all about my affliction:
Do you think that I would choose to be hated on sight by judgmental Christians?
If I could choose my path do you think I’d choose pain,
Guilt, humiliation, and shame?
Do you think I’d choose to live a life shackled and chained,
Hiding away a part of me I almost don’t want to accept to this day
Because I fear when I see God he’ll turn me away?