I cannot hate you
though only God knows how hard i try
It's not our songs that make me cry
it was the dance we shared
I rework the steps in head
trace the thread from end to start
yet the filaments fray under touch
observation, physics, shift
and the memories are never clear
the only thing I know
is i fell in a trap
deceived by my better half
my better half
no longer whole
bitter fermentation of the fruits of love
drown again in the bottle
of aged oak drink
hop and barley
they said I was ****** but can't recall
yet there's a picture of me unconscious
***** sprayed upon painted brick walls
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
It starts as pain
twisting anguish in the chest
tightening anxiety pulling at your lungs
breathe
heaving the weight of your own body
your flesh and blood like stone
it demands an
offering
votive sacrifice
of blood or be it even soul
sacred fluid coursing the capillaries
tracing the form of your spirit
let loose, let loose this
this holy script
this holy spirit
adding myself to it
to this
this holy ink
to be one upon the page
bound to the leaf
bound to the word
bound to the will
of something beyond myself
at the mercy of
at the care of
at the will of
something beyond myself
awoken for
tortured for
spoken for
something beyond
us
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 11:14 PM UTC
I'm sick of all these metaphors
and simile
that compare you to a delicate flower
a rose from concrete
beautiful find among the cracks of pavements
as a rose without thorn
because you are none of these
not some delicate little bird
fragile
hollow bones
to be gently touched
guarded and protected
from the cruel unforgiving world
A woman
the other half of man
the beacon of light that brings me home
the warmth of your body fights my frigid soul
your emotion to my reason
your logic to my rage
a flower is a decoration
and a bird a pet
a partner
an equal
woman
worthy of admiration
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
Worship in vanity the thread count in linen
Sacred vestments of Gucci Inquisition
Crimson is the season
She called it blood orange
I simply saw blood
Diamonds in her ears
Stole the glory from the stars
Dull brown eyes hide
Below saturated blue
Lenses to hide her shame
That she wasn’t born a princess
Perhaps prince charming awaits
In another dive bar
Holding a whiskey sour
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
There is a relationship
between my liver and my brain
it would seem
the more i drink
the more i write
the pain in the gut
daggers in the abdomen
razors in the intestines
that pull at the silent strings of sleep
back to the discourse of life
to the mechanic birds that sweep the streets
raptors eye glow beneath the clouds
fingers dig into the flesh
a welcomed pain
to take away from the agony within
four am and im still awake
dry mouth
sore throat
the cough never stops
between gasps for breath
teeth clamp down upon the lower lip
just a moment more
let the fingers sweep across the board
before they return to the side
to help subside the acid boiling inside
let the keys click to carry me
crutch through the night
until the eyes fall
and i may awake to a paragraphs of letters
forming the same patterns as the lines on my face
i watch the sunrise
with tears in my eyes
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
I hate you
because your poems end in rhyme
your prose is feeble and weak
when i read your words
i wish your hear you voice
spoken to me
the passion
the anger
the pain
of a poet
for whom do we write these words?
a significant other
who's pants we wish to delve
or the demon on my shoulder
the shiver of my spin
my skeleton shudders at the thought
Ginsberg doesn't ring a bell?
I wear black.
because i am in mourning
of the arts you killed
a eulogy is in order
for the younger generation
grow duller the as they age
mind blunted
blunted
like the blade of wit for which i weep
no longer lines cut like blades
but punch lines mashed up with terrible rhymes
i've never heard a poet
but a comedian bard upon the stage
i wish to laugh but instead i lament
i cry for the youth walk the pavement
eyes turned inward
ears sealed shut
little white buds
to fill walls of their skull with more endless rhyme
convincing them that
this ****
THIS **** RIGHT HERE
RIGHT HERE IS ART
so please, dont let me into my zone
for i'll take that mic from your hands
and shoot your down
drop to your knees
and die
for not an artist lives
for the future
my future
our future
is thoroughly ******
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
i made microwaveable noodles
they burnt my hand
i sent them to the floor
my stomach growls in pain
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 7:33 AM UTC
i wake up tired
and before i fall asleep
i feel the most awake
the most alert
my mind doesn't work
until the sun goes down
i don't know why
why its so hard to get going
my biggest regret
is waking up this morning
not that today was any worse than yesterday
or tomorrow will be any better
im not afraid
sometimes i think i am
afraid to make the choices i need to make
its not fear
its apprehension
not of what will happen
but what will become
what will become of me
i spoke to god once
just once
it was on a rickety subway car
we were alone
as only he would have it
i cant share with you what he said
im sure you'll understand
but i'll tell you this
he doesn't hate you
because of the things you do
or the people you hurt
he talks to you like a mother
with the wisdom of your father
his presence was fear
of his strength
i could feel it to the bones
his presence was love
because he came to me
and wanted to know my answers
which im sure he already knew
but to speak them aloud
to hear my voice carry
the answers within
the questions i knew
he broke the silence
and i knew why
he gave me a voice
so that we could speak
he gave me a voice
so that i could be heard
and as he approved
rejection
i of he
he couldn't change it
and so we sat
on a rickety subway car
i spoke to god
before i killed him
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
Teeth grinding sleep
sweat soaked sheets
spiral into the maelstrom
deeper into the abyss
earth shattering screams
nails pierce flesh
through the heel
of my right foot
to bleed me dry
this hell of mind
this hell of mine
to see my body
dead
skin flayed
hanging from its hooks
to gaze upon myself
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
Breath
Breathed in
pain of the shackled soul
locked into America
single motivated goal
Amistad
take the youth down
into the hold
throw them overboard
when their too weak
to be
the coal to the capital engine
to this hell we
call
home
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC