LamarLewis
American
I write musically. / I find that syllabic devices, indentation, alliterative consonants & punctuation are the rhythm. / Rhyme schemes & alliterative vowels are the melodic notes, / harmonizing with the entire motion. / I hope you can feel the music in my words. / And the color for that matter.
Time tricks the mind, makes
short things long, long things short.
I suppose I'm a duration of sorts.
Be here now?
Be here soon?
Are ghosts lost in time or are they confused?
Are pictures of the past meant to remind us whats medium, big, and small?
or are they nothing at all?
Memory makes an author out of all of us.
Don't fight the fiction
you'll lose every time.
time.
again.
It's everywhere isn't it?
It's always as well.
hmm.
is it pixels on a screen arranged in number type?
maybe the sun on your back, or is it in your eyes?
Perhaps I waste both yours and mine in trying to define.
Ah!
But there it is.
It is held self-evident of time;
fleeting, final, finite.
So if given the option between
dark and light;
fear or flight;
dormancy, eruption,
respite?
you had better ignite.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
It is Christmas Eve.
I sit idly, in slight discomfort on this wooden pew.
A glorified bench if you ask me.
I remember being a child, blissful and reverent.
I memorized sacred stanzas of prayer unaware of their meaning,
chanted them with everyone else.
I always thought God had excellent diction.
Now though I am puzzled.
For an American culture so ethnocentric, patronizing rituals in the third world and of other religions as silly;
Their own rituals are quite silly.
Transcending the mystery of creation for a moment now: having figured this a charade for the generational reproduction of virtue and morality inexorably tied up in the Americanization and Assimilation of society, that we might all move in one direction. That we might all create family units, buy houses, white picket fences, watch television on couches with children and consume, consume, consume... I deem it acceptable to be immoral.
Hymnals couldn't be more of a bore to me, prayers are empty.
But the girl three rows up is filling her dress quite nicely.
I wonder if she also is despondent, if her eyes wander.
I take a mental step back and realize how many girls are wearing high drawn dresses.
Are they showing off their flawless legs for the lord? Surely not.
They dressed that way for me.
The three rows up girl looks astray and catches my eye;
for a moment we have found our savior.
I make it a point to kneel next to her for communion,
brazen enough to tell her "That dress is something else."
She blushes and shoots me a seductive smile.
"Yes I'm wrapped up quite well aren't I? Only missing a bow."
Holding the body of Christ,
"That shouldn't be a problem, I'm quite good at unwrapping. These dexterous hands of mine."
Her body shifts to the left, her sinister side against my right.
I watch her take a rather large drink from the blood of Christ, she places her hand over mine as she braces to stand.
Our eyes flicker on again for an instant as she turns.
I'll be finding her.
The golden goblet seeks me next.
Bad wine posing as blood.
Like all these christian's faking it, it's quite suiting.
I wonder if they really believe they are drinking human blood?
And eating human flesh?
******* zombies man.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:12 PM UTC
I haven't loved anyone in over two years.
I find it empties me.
Bereft of all but a theft to recall
her hands were sleight but soft
And I, alive at a cost.
we wisp around my room at night
you become the walls.
My eyelids spin me around a reel.
The film is worn from use and time
but the pops and crackles warm me like a fire.
From inside the theatre glow my chest begins to float.
Have your veins ever felt like runways?
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
Surely I've felt love's embrace
fallen under its spell
but was it even ever real?
who can tell?
Does it plant like a seed and stay?
in the sun
to sing,
to sway.
From seed, to sap, to stem
to blossom
bright,
and brave;
for hope,
for truth,
to save
A world, so dark,
depraved.
To forever,
and ever,
and ever,
and ever,
and ever fight for faith?
Or with first rain would it wash away?
May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
I don't know what to do from here.
It just seems as if the entire world is fixated on some infinite screen.
So all encompassing, yet images flicker in fantastic frivolity.
Such absolutely aimless anomie
erodes the mind, heart, and soul of everything.
To the point of true societal insanity.
Where we'd rather chemically synthesize the taste of an apple,
than to plant an apple tree.
Nations wage wars in the name of peace while
Corporations, not people, enjoy freedom of speech.
Is this what it means to be a human being?
Are we encoded with DNA or with binary?
What of your beating heart? if it still pumps.
Or have your cells of blood all become zeroes and ones?
Do you look out upon the shimmering sea to be humbled and awed?
Or do your eyes map out it's marketability, growth index, and overhead costs!?
Oh, what of a metaphor for societal insanity.
To depict society as an orchestral piece;
They are all strings vibrating in the very wrong key,
resonating on a global scale in such horrific harmonies.
Yet they'll incorporate,
they'll advertise,
they'll trade the stock publicly!
They'll call it a symphony.
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
All at once I woke up to the world
and I fell into it's mouth
It chewed me up and spit me out
but I felt wisdom in my wounds.
and the truth I'd thought I'd found
Left me doubtful, no doubt
But when I look to the sky
should I feel humble or obliged?
To shrink down to size?
I'd hope that there's more to life
Perhaps even a bit of flight
I'll show that sky yet, I will
I've got dreams to wake up from and fulfill
And if the sun does shine, I'll be brighter still.
¡Este día es viva!
The world will surely be mine!
Right after I hit that snooze button one more time.
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 1:34 PM UTC
Everyone's a cartoon
Everyone's robotic
My mind spins the loom
I unravel
I'm Tangled, Tied, and Tense
You have soft eyes
I'd go anywhere
To feel that starlight
Andromeda explodes
good vibrations
Senses Overload
Just take it all in
Fight the phantoms
Fight the phantoms off
Fill up with rainbows
Let the colors out
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC
*Smooth and
skip
like a
stone
along the water color world in my soul.
As our Brightnesses
blend into one; Irises
fray out like Bristles.
dip into eachother
dripping
and
damp
I can feel your brush strokes
in my
White
canvas
bones.
As your touch glides across my skin I can feel the wind beneath it;
soft and smooth
shivers
up my
spine,
like leaves
dancing, romancing
as they
fall
from
trees in the breeze
to
collect
and
weave
our bodies into* one.
Dec 28, 2011
Dec 28, 2011 at 10:54 PM UTC
It's late, your light of head has gotten you here so ride it out. Your sleight of hand is a quality I admire, in it I feel desire. Can you take me higher? Who do I have to **** for a feel, a flight? A love that's real and right. I got to close; my morose, my sorrow sent me home. But the air is bright with you still even hundreds of miles away.
It's dark and I am alone. The night all quiet and calm soothes my longings. Have you ever preferred the moon to the sun in the pallid ****** starlight? I don't need your empty threats, your "love". I'll rise above with my shot glass & rough draft. Put your hand on my chest and feel my lungs rust.
All at once in an exhale my soul lingers in front of me. Running my fingertips along it's smooth smoky existence, as it twists and twirls the world around me; I am reminded of a day years ago when we held each other close. It was the pillow puff clouds, the silky soft sky which you and I surrendered upon; and laid lazily the days away. My fingertips were flashing back is all... nothing of importance.
At any rate, I am still here, after a lucky number 7th run in with death. My pen never left. White streaks of light sing and dance across the night sky for me. My hair is trimmed and my face is clean. I start a new life tomorrow and it is miraculous. I'll wake alone in the morning to show my resolve. Your face to be erased from the back of my eyelids without a trace; when the picture frame shatters cold as ice from my balcony heights. I smile at the first stranger I see.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 10:26 PM UTC
I miss you more in the colder months.
It's a pity. As you too,
do glowingly embrace my skin like the fair breeze at noon.
Do faintly stir my heart like fallen leaves bristling,
dancing through my fingertips.
Not a shiver, but a shining splendor did send her
With a quiver of arrows, and to my marrow.
But the cold left my bones bare.
It all brings me back there, the water smooth and still.
Illuminated in intricate
Ecstatic explosions.
You were My shimmering sea beneath a starlit sky,
A Mariner's maiden, a new year warm with wine.
In the spring you said Goodbye.
In winter, still not have I.
In the colder months I just,
need you by my side.
Not just for warmth at eventide
but too that loneliness abide
like the sand's surrender
to the ocean's tide.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 11:20 PM UTC