innocent-tata - Hello Poetry

As the language aids in communicating our similarities Duplicating these unique isolated experiences Detailing the nuance crevices in the porcelain blur Moralizing Gods and reflecting design flaws Finding a mortal prevalence You attempt to un-speak your empathy Cuffing your wild uncultured flares Taking shade in poorly structured bravados You drum your chest and imitate your father’s voice Fear starts to take form, as intimacy starts to rust You are not without love, it’s just peaceful in the void You replay the conversations nitpicking the words and intonations Editing out your rogue sways Caging the child between a rock and a hard place… And you go “who says that” You in your unrefined glory Your cello-taped memory You and your poor choice of words You uncultured swine

0

Aug 23, 2021

Aug 23, 2021 at 10:46 AM UTC

You uncultured swine

As the language aids in communicating our similarities Duplicating these unique isolated experiences Detailing the nuance crevices in the porcelain blur Moralizing Gods and reflecting design flaws Finding a mortal prevalence You attempt to un-speak your empathy Cuffing your wild uncultured flares Taking shade in poorly structured bravados You drum your chest and imitate your father’s voice Fear starts to take form, as intimacy starts to rust You are not without love, it’s just peaceful in the void You replay the conversations nitpicking the words and intonations Editing out your rogue sways Caging the child between a rock and a hard place… And you go “who says that” You in your unrefined glory Your cello-taped memory You and your poor choice of words You uncultured swine

20

One could argue that as you get older, you become a better stoic. Masking your whims, desires and pleasures with logic, reason and meaning. Taking the less scenic route, becoming more utilitarian and the stick that’s up your **** plunges a little further.. And What about the artist that emotionally abuses the kid within and constantly exploits its innocence. Strumming the strings of vulnerability for relatability. Lusting over Monet clouds as painted tears conjure real ones.. Apologies for the preachy undertone, I too buried my cornea in the conneries without a veil, with chin to palm Coveting a utopia. However The dance around the bugbear has since become medieval. I gave it a good hug, tears of tranquility as we initiate the coagulation.. But I need a good light, one that outdoes a good filter. Sending shadows to the creases of the crater. The eclipsed sun carves the frame for a Godlike aesthetic and then I forget to write. Sometimes I forget I’m alive.

0

Sep 12, 2020

Sep 12, 2020 at 11:52 PM UTC

Remind me

One could argue that as you get older, you become a better stoic. Masking your whims, desires and pleasures with logic, reason and meaning. Taking the less scenic route, becoming more utilitarian and the stick that’s up your **** plunges a little further.. And What about the artist that emotionally abuses the kid within and constantly exploits its innocence. Strumming the strings of vulnerability for relatability. Lusting over Monet clouds as painted tears conjure real ones.. Apologies for the preachy undertone, I too buried my cornea in the conneries without a veil, with chin to palm Coveting a utopia. However The dance around the bugbear has since become medieval. I gave it a good hug, tears of tranquility as we initiate the coagulation.. But I need a good light, one that outdoes a good filter. Sending shadows to the creases of the crater. The eclipsed sun carves the frame for a Godlike aesthetic and then I forget to write. Sometimes I forget I’m alive.

4

there's a warmness to pain like a sprout in an arid land almost forbidden but yet welcomed like a familiar enemy a cushion in these thorns the holes they pierce a stab to the scabs the reward is to feel there are truths i can't tell they can't be made words not even in the presence of God its the essence of my thoughts there are enemies i can't un-love mysteries i can't un-solve lips i can't un-kiss lips i can't resist i saw my mother's boy i saw my father's man it took my mother's joy it took my father's smile here lies the man i refuse to be in captivity i refuse to yield in a skin that isn't me in a place that is killing me

0

Dec 25, 2018

Dec 25, 2018 at 10:31 PM UTC

Homely

there's a warmness to pain like a sprout in an arid land almost forbidden but yet welcomed like a familiar enemy a cushion in these thorns the holes they pierce a stab to the scabs the reward is to feel there are truths i can't tell they can't be made words not even in the presence of God its the essence of my thoughts there are enemies i can't un-love mysteries i can't un-solve lips i can't un-kiss lips i can't resist i saw my mother's boy i saw my father's man it took my mother's joy it took my father's smile here lies the man i refuse to be in captivity i refuse to yield in a skin that isn't me in a place that is killing me

24

You see Its all about balance It is why there’s a God And there’s a devil Something to love And something to rebel The moon and the sun The summers and the falls You against the world, right ?? Because while you weren’t feeling pain you were grinning to skylines While I wasn’t alone, I was hopelessly in love I sang her name in the mountains And cursed her in the valleys Because while I wasn’t here I was surfing other universes Conversing with deities Discussing human pain The impossibility of world peace Debunking the weave between creatives and depression Drinking cocktail to mundane philosophies And cringing at its inadequacies Its the fibers that wrestled into pattern A pigment too much Hair left in the oven to burn See I woke up this morning Reminding myself why I’m nothing less than perfect A standard for shallow magazines to dissect My timeless symmetrical face My poetic jaws My lustful eyes My perfectly aligned shoulders My seductive accent and my big **** See I wrote you into a book In this book, I made sure I got your chubby cheeks chiseled For eccentricity, I gave you light freckles I toned up your skin because you were always so insecure about being black I, I made your legs bowl, making every path you walk on a runway I made your accent more American, you never did speak much, I wonder I made you a hero, a character kids could look up to Even if all you ever did, was save yourself.. I made you, you But my x-factor or stand out behavior or artistic finesse was rather cliche You tore down every shred of confidence before bed A war fought with tears and muscle clenches You called yourself ugly, worthless, idiot , you said you weren’t enough, undeserving of the good life has offer, you dance to the madman’s song, you danced until the sun came up And then, what seem to be the residue of a fighting man or woman You made a menagerie, a collage with the shreds And you walked out, you walked like you made yourself

0

Mar 18, 2018

Mar 18, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC

Balance

You see Its all about balance It is why there’s a God And there’s a devil Something to love And something to rebel The moon and the sun The summers and the falls You against the world, right ?? Because while you weren’t feeling pain you were grinning to skylines While I wasn’t alone, I was hopelessly in love I sang her name in the mountains And cursed her in the valleys Because while I wasn’t here I was surfing other universes Conversing with deities Discussing human pain The impossibility of world peace Debunking the weave between creatives and depression Drinking cocktail to mundane philosophies And cringing at its inadequacies Its the fibers that wrestled into pattern A pigment too much Hair left in the oven to burn See I woke up this morning Reminding myself why I’m nothing less than perfect A standard for shallow magazines to dissect My timeless symmetrical face My poetic jaws My lustful eyes My perfectly aligned shoulders My seductive accent and my big **** See I wrote you into a book In this book, I made sure I got your chubby cheeks chiseled For eccentricity, I gave you light freckles I toned up your skin because you were always so insecure about being black I, I made your legs bowl, making every path you walk on a runway I made your accent more American, you never did speak much, I wonder I made you a hero, a character kids could look up to Even if all you ever did, was save yourself.. I made you, you But my x-factor or stand out behavior or artistic finesse was rather cliche You tore down every shred of confidence before bed A war fought with tears and muscle clenches You called yourself ugly, worthless, idiot , you said you weren’t enough, undeserving of the good life has offer, you dance to the madman’s song, you danced until the sun came up And then, what seem to be the residue of a fighting man or woman You made a menagerie, a collage with the shreds And you walked out, you walked like you made yourself

51

I like how your hair feels I like how it doesn’t give in to the wind

0

Dec 19, 2017

Dec 19, 2017 at 12:21 PM UTC

Hairs

I like how your hair feels I like how it doesn’t give in to the wind

2

I'd like to talk about curves Twist and turns Dented surfaces Or talk about God Childish wishes Open caskets Broken promises Surfing on Universal energies Deciphering the Poems in the music I'd like to visit Paris Everglades sawn grass Prairie With my palms caressing softly I need a mental picture of paradise A motivational quote before bed at night These nightmares stressing for a fight I'd like to talk with my dad again I need a map of manhood I think I might be doing it wrong ......Or just tell him that I'm a proud son I want to dance Waltzing around things I value With black leather dress shoes Courting yellows from blues Using old memories as punching bag Thinking about that kid who wasn't punching back Curved spine with a heavy backpack I want to be here now No captions, just sounds .....and curves

0

Oct 16, 2017

Oct 16, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC

Curves

I'd like to talk about curves Twist and turns Dented surfaces Or talk about God Childish wishes Open caskets Broken promises Surfing on Universal energies Deciphering the Poems in the music I'd like to visit Paris Everglades sawn grass Prairie With my palms caressing softly I need a mental picture of paradise A motivational quote before bed at night These nightmares stressing for a fight I'd like to talk with my dad again I need a map of manhood I think I might be doing it wrong ......Or just tell him that I'm a proud son I want to dance Waltzing around things I value With black leather dress shoes Courting yellows from blues Using old memories as punching bag Thinking about that kid who wasn't punching back Curved spine with a heavy backpack I want to be here now No captions, just sounds .....and curves

29

The concept of aging hits with distaste The wisdom that stumps life's thirst A nod to having done it all As we mantra unfulfilled dreams Selling dead stars to kids Revisiting old fears, my debt for words, My remodeling of how i approach life.... Less enthusiasm I used to dread today Grabbing this bleak space Inviting hairs to my face Charging mirrors for confidence Drumming my chest with consolation I Dreamt like stars do I used to run with springs for knees Hopping old pine fences Sliding down guard rails Thumping turfs As my body thuds the floor Laughter grips my lungs Back when love was forever so was heartbreaks Sunrises were beautiful Grasshoppers were wondrous Poodles were guilty pleasures The world was screaming paint We Projected puppies and ponies out of clouds something out of nothing We made Castles out of sand Tainted bodies with dusty palms The alter was a fracture of heaven And the priest was God Pale skin and iced veins with a numb heart Just as Gods would act Looking for love, May have drank for love We danced for love We fought for love Love sometimes had a boyfriend Love said no a lot Retching sounds and **** stains Pants worn below waistlines Cigarettes for the first time talks of ladies with lighter skin Female connoisseurs No more cartoons at 4..... We! are! men! now!

0

May 5, 2017

May 5, 2017 at 6:09 AM UTC

Rubber Bone

The concept of aging hits with distaste The wisdom that stumps life's thirst A nod to having done it all As we mantra unfulfilled dreams Selling dead stars to kids Revisiting old fears, my debt for words, My remodeling of how i approach life.... Less enthusiasm I used to dread today Grabbing this bleak space Inviting hairs to my face Charging mirrors for confidence Drumming my chest with consolation I Dreamt like stars do I used to run with springs for knees Hopping old pine fences Sliding down guard rails Thumping turfs As my body thuds the floor Laughter grips my lungs Back when love was forever so was heartbreaks Sunrises were beautiful Grasshoppers were wondrous Poodles were guilty pleasures The world was screaming paint We Projected puppies and ponies out of clouds something out of nothing We made Castles out of sand Tainted bodies with dusty palms The alter was a fracture of heaven And the priest was God Pale skin and iced veins with a numb heart Just as Gods would act Looking for love, May have drank for love We danced for love We fought for love Love sometimes had a boyfriend Love said no a lot Retching sounds and **** stains Pants worn below waistlines Cigarettes for the first time talks of ladies with lighter skin Female connoisseurs No more cartoons at 4..... We! are! men! now!

46

What if I let you read my poems? A window to my prowess The edible part of this eccentric fruit The beauty of this beast The justification of this tongue-tied pride What if I let you see me? In an unexpected lightning Caught off guard No consciousness for good or bad No apology, no self-regard A mind without dogma or dead ends No societal influence Juried by mere conscience So much love, so much violence Hasty vengeance by the ARTLESS Derailed from logic and peer reference Governed by wimps and impulses Nutrition and *********** Nutrition and *********** Mankind’s infamous purpose Now.. Now let us go back to the green hill The good soothsayer's teaching The shackles of our being Let us close our eyes... and Breathe

0

May 1, 2017

May 1, 2017 at 6:28 AM UTC

core parts

What if I let you read my poems? A window to my prowess The edible part of this eccentric fruit The beauty of this beast The justification of this tongue-tied pride What if I let you see me? In an unexpected lightning Caught off guard No consciousness for good or bad No apology, no self-regard A mind without dogma or dead ends No societal influence Juried by mere conscience So much love, so much violence Hasty vengeance by the ARTLESS Derailed from logic and peer reference Governed by wimps and impulses Nutrition and *********** Nutrition and *********** Mankind’s infamous purpose Now.. Now let us go back to the green hill The good soothsayer's teaching The shackles of our being Let us close our eyes... and Breathe

25

Last night I whispered my scream To the girl with the American spirit Spent half the night Begging those eyes to gaze at me Maybe break night with me Then we fix it it in the morning You should be in my room at this time You should see how the sun cuts through the blinds It's the smell of the morning coffee The freshly baked macadamia cookies The smoke of that mint cigarette And the snuggle of the pillow you sleeping with Its your voice It's the words It's like mathematics The 1 that can't be ignored The understood 1

0

Jan 5, 2017

Jan 5, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC

The understood 1

Last night I whispered my scream To the girl with the American spirit Spent half the night Begging those eyes to gaze at me Maybe break night with me Then we fix it it in the morning You should be in my room at this time You should see how the sun cuts through the blinds It's the smell of the morning coffee The freshly baked macadamia cookies The smoke of that mint cigarette And the snuggle of the pillow you sleeping with Its your voice It's the words It's like mathematics The 1 that can't be ignored The understood 1

17

The beauty in this beast/ has gone beyond its reach/ love was the sin/ hate might redeam him/ tears on the blanket's cold shoulder/ Just one more time for some hallelujah/ please hold close as my sanity drifts away/ pining on the fantasies of my escape/ Love was never the truth/ But the sedative cozening root/ The sleeping beauty's shotgun/ The sleeping beauty's shotgun/ Love porsche

0

Nov 24, 2016

Nov 24, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC

Untitled

The beauty in this beast/ has gone beyond its reach/ love was the sin/ hate might redeam him/ tears on the blanket's cold shoulder/ Just one more time for some hallelujah/ please hold close as my sanity drifts away/ pining on the fantasies of my escape/ Love was never the truth/ But the sedative cozening root/ The sleeping beauty's shotgun/ The sleeping beauty's shotgun/ Love porsche

12