M Clement

M Clement May 2014

Women

The muse,
the body of my work
The body I desire

What's left, then, when
I have no one to write for
To
For
To
Left?

What's left?

Thank you, random UK woman, for being wonderful, beautiful, and intelligent. You inspired this.

M Clement Apr 2014

And now a poem for daddy issues

That's it.
The name is the theme
The theme's in the name.

I'm listening to the 4th of July on Spotify
That rhymed; unintentional
Do you even listen to "The Lonely Island", bro?

I'm so clever.

This is a thank you note, dad.
I'm going to talk to you soon.

It's like we're on different planets
Except you're on the moon.

Not too distant,
but altogether too far for me to travel

Altogether too far for you to travel.

We can't even carry conversation

*Isn't it fun?

M Clement Apr 2014

You still got it.

I question confusion
How one can see a world so clearly
The other, as if looking through dirt
#someaningful
There's a steady measure of sarcasm
I hope that gets across in text

I wonder about the world through the other
I wonder how you perceive it
Am I alone in that?
How do you feel?

I remember;
I have memories
I forget;
No longer burdening

I had a dream last night
It was exhausting
Just like it used to be.
I woke up feeling just as used
Just as flustered as I used to feel.
*You still got it.

M Clement Apr 2014

I know that.

I think the worst part of all of it
Was I wanted to be that brother.

I mean, grander scope,

The person I am is not who I want to be.

Not even in the changeable sense.
Sometimes I just wish I worked differently.

The saddest part is, by wishing, by longing for that
I'm longing for not me,
and I like me.

I am me.

I mean we could delve into this psychologically: the ideal self.
We could run me through with philosophy, and in reality, this piece is going far from the ideal.

I write stream of thought, can you tell?

None of this is ever planned. I literally ***** on paper [that's electronic], similar to that artist who vomits colored milk, except, you know, with words.
I can't quite turn it into music yet.
That'll come later on, I suppose.

I thank God for what I am.
It's just a struggle, because I want to be better than me;
While He's happy with me, sometimes I'm not.

I saw her face tonight,
and I want to be with the person I perceived
Not the person she is.
She's beautiful though, of that there's no doubt.
I hope she finds someone for her.
She deserves him, and he her.

But I want mine,
and maybe there isn't one,
and I want to be ok with that too.

What's there to say, I guess. If you have questions, hit me up, I guess.

#idontwanttodotags

Apr 2014

Melody Millett

10w

I'm holding on
to something;
That left
A long time ago

Basically

#heartbreak #holdingon

M Clement Apr 2014

It's not really a poem until the end (right?)

I guess this is more procrastination than anything else,
But writing is writing, amiright?

it's funny, starting a line with no capitalization,
you know what else is funny? Misspellings.
But that's not really what I was going to say.

There's something about pieces of my past that drum up passionate writings.
Congrats to you, if you're reading, you're a muse of somesort.

I was reading 1 Corinthians today.
Workin' on dat daily struggle, that getting closer to Christ grind.
Grinding on the cross.
hashtag: blasphemy
Conjures up images of Jesus at a dance

Back to the point: Paul urged us to stay single.
I find that so weird, but in reality,
It's no weirder than desiring others to fill our hole(s)

There's a **** joke there somewhere...

I'm being crass for the sake of it
An ***, because that's what I make of it.
I write, I writ, I wrote
Am I right? This rite? Is it rote?
Wordplay

Really though, stay single, for the sake of your relationship.
That's what Paul said.
A married man or woman is tied down to this earth ever more than those unmarried.

Is that why I'm single?
I ain't even mad.
Even if I do miss the touches,
The hugs
The intimacy

I know that in it,
When I'm in the thick,
I miss my relationship with Christ more.

Where's the blood
Where's the body when I need it most?

I am the one locking myself away.

Eucharistic struggle
The Communion struggle.
That last line is a good summation of this piece
If this is a poem, indeed.

Maybe I need to make some lines that rhyme for the sake of the time you've spent reading this journalistic entry for the sake of my last century and maybe this one coming.
I'm bumming around for cigarettes that I don't smoke, for **** that I won't ****, for a joke that won't end in any punchline you find funny.
Baby, honey, I need to leave; you need to see the light of day, and I need some time to pray, because everytime I'm with you I'm suffocating. You're pulling, and there's no more rope; you're the trickery, and I'm the dope. And every time my flesh was in yours and you were on me, I knew what we were doing couldn't be, and that what we were doing wasn't for me, but all for you. I'm all for you. I'm never not.

Except when I'm not.

It felt like something that I needed to be said, and it felt so good to spill it out on paper. I hope it reads as well as it felt to type.

#poetry #tags

M Clement Apr 2014

Traffic up ahead

Then there's that moment
Comedians have spoken about it
Friends have mentioned it
Girlfriend's have noticed it

And he can't get rid of it
It's like it's innate.
Maybe that's how he wants it
Just a reminder of how ****** it feels
Used without the proper permits.