M Clement

M Clement Apr 2013

Cramps

I mixed liquid nitrogen
With my *** juices
Now I'm cool as ****

Interested in interesting intellectuals
Bringing bacon back, bread-bringing *******
Alliterating alliterative allocutions allowing abusive acronyms

For goodness and badness
And for some ugliness
Here’s the facts and I’ll lay them down right:
I’m a ******* sorcerer
And I don’t finish lists

Irony in the ironical first-person
I left someone behind when they told me to
And now I’m better off,
Know this poem’s for you.
Every time I see your face, I really hope you’re doing well
But deep in my mind I know that nothing’s changed
And you’re still the same, as I’m trying to change
To be a better person than I was when we met
But it’s something that you never noticed, yet
Something inside of me says we’re polar
Opposites and what really happened
Was for the best, for both of us
So I still keep in touch with
Friends around you
And I hope secretly
That you fall in
Unending mercy
And that I’m wrong.

M Clement Apr 2013

I wanted to name this 'Untitled' but I decided not to be lazy

I have 116 poems to read
And even fewer cares to give
I'm thinking less than 10
But greater than 9

In a sense, this is to say I'm sorry
I'll probably never read you
Don't take this the wrong way
I hardly remember to get on to write.
Maybe someday, when everything chills down
I'll be able to spend my day burning a cigar
Drinking in all your beautiful words,
Your wonderful idiosyncrasies
And every little feeling you leave behind with every single letter you type

But listen, as of now,
I'm swamped
Life is coming at me from all sides,
and if I weren't to make an excuse: I just don't give it enough time.
Take this community, and love me?
Actually do what you want, I'm not your boss.
Just know that I'm sorry for not paying attention
You're not a red-headed step-child
You're the family that lives far away
I don't call them either.

I feel bad, because everyone here writes so beautifully, and there's a reason I followed them in the first place; however, here, at university, I have *no* time. So, I pop in to write and be thankful for all those who enjoy what I write, but not much else.
God Bless, Guys. Sorry I'm not around.

M Clement Apr 2013

Drained

I wish it would rain on my face more often
Allowing the water to wash my pores
And add more dirt to the face of a ***** child

I wish I could fall in the ocean
Off of a cliff (I hate heights)
But oh what a beauty that picture that would be

Jump into the lady that is the sea
And allow her to embrace me
A storm would embrace my body
As I fell
Plummeted towards inevitability
I don't even have to die
That's not necessarily the point

Embrace
Love
Care
While she may not offer everything
She offers a few
The Ocean

I could wash up on the sands
The cruel lands would dry me of all traces of her
And I'd be left staring at once was, rather than being in the thick of it
There would be times where I'd long for her touch
When I'd wash my hands
Take showers
Baths
Pools would be terrible

All imitating, taking a bit of what she was
And leaving me with a longing that would be immeasurable
Like her breadth and depth
Though science could always ruin it for me, I suppose
They tend to dry the world of wonder, or spark it
(Glass half empty/half full mentalities)

I would miss her heart
And how it beat as waves crashed
And when it rained, I'd remember the day
Where her and I became one
She welcomed me with embrace
The ocean and I

"Blue Ocean Floor", by Justin Timberlake, oddly inspired me to write this. I hope it's as enjoyable as it was to feel.

M Clement Apr 2013

If I were James Franco, I'd be rapper too, and I would have stayed the hell out of Oz

I wish my hands were rockets
So I could see the show
Watching them blast off, whe'er they go

I don't really want them anymore
So to them I wave adieu
Well, I would if I had hands...
Instead I flop arms
Like a seal waiting for a meal at your local circus

I pitch tents
And people sometimes visit (read: never)
but a few have wanted to see the show
And see me bark
They probly honk the horn better than I

In the end of the day I pray for a sickness to leave my body
And to not struggle anymore
But I don't think that's really the point
I think it's a story about rising above...
I'm still at the ocean floor, though
And there's a long way up

but away from the dreary, let's focus on cheery
As I carve pumpkins in the shape of silence
There's nothing in April for the stuff in October
So I fold over a game of poker
For another month or two
Pour me a drink, Scottie!
A fifth of ***, and a shot o' her
Wondering eyes cut ties to those morals we hold most dear
None of you are mine, and I have little right to peer over as I do
But oh, do I
Wondering eyes are best plucked out by Ravens
Like that's so Edgar Allen Poe
Half Black females can squander careers... or blame
it on the *****... or disney channel
Spring Break, *******

M Clement Apr 2013

Can you tell me otherwise?

If mental sprawlings were explosions
I would be very dead

M Clement Apr 2013

Trite

You scratch my back,
I'll scratch my back.
Funny thing about my **** is it's on my front
Would you rather?
I would lather

I need to shave
Worse than shearing sheep
Norelco needs to hook me up proper

M Clement Apr 2013

With a pinch of faerie dust (though I'm not European)

Ultimately, whether function or form
inevitability strikes at the achilles tendon of
anything with a pulse

There's a **** in my hair
Choke it out with a hangman's noose of silk
Platinum, diamond, and gold
Elderly women scrubbing under folds

This disgust, contempt, and ill begotten logic
of false idols, impressions, and spiritual fog
Breaking backs of lambs for the feast
And watching them writhe and struggle

Darkness
And on the sunny side of day
There's Ice Cream in my Snicker's bar
Spider-Webs
Lowered beds
I wish they had wheels
So I could drive by night
Assaulting with dreams and wonder
No nightmares here
Just night mares

Walking along the sandy beaches
Staring at the sandy beetches wondering
Why am I here?
Right now, at this moment,
And why for the life of me, can I not escape the demons on my back

The worst part of life is the truth
It's the hardest **** to swallow
Fiber for the human centipede

I wish my wit were a tad sharper
And my **** a tad longer
I had a mental image of a thumbtack...
then I thought of my ****
I'm not that small, honestly

Mental webs sprawling on paper (?)
No, this is the computer
I'm just typing ****
What happened to the days of writing in cursive
to show affection to one far away?
In the end, we send an text to close another day
"LU Q T, ILL BE GON 4 2 DAYS"

In reality it's me that's gone away
No sweetie, no honey
No baby here
Self-pity party for the rather queer

I am not what I want
And I am not who I should be, right?
That's the reason I fight this fight?
I need to be better, I want to be better
And that's why I'm writing this
Letter by letter

I'm not sure how I feel about this one. I know I feel it, but...