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Riq Schwartz Jun 2014
Feel too much

and
if you find folly in those
freeloading fascist hacks
who tell you to write prose
or shoot photography,
tell them to take notes
      -a mental picture-
because you're headed off to the heart;
Taking back roads through
the bile of memory
to touch what it might just mean
to be.
Journalists content to watch.
Sojourners just might find.
A poet will be your guide.

Feel too much.
Please know that I do love our prose-bound brothers and sisters, and I married a photographer. I'm simply embellishing to help the thing earn it's title, as it were.

Inspired by/in response to "Feeling Too Much" by Alyanne Copper
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/754305/feeling-too-much/
  Jun 2014 Riq Schwartz
Alyanne Cooper
Alright, I'll confess it.
I would change everything about you.
Your bangs should sweep left to right,
Not right to left like you have them now.
Your cocky half smile quirks too much
So I think you should tone it down.
The way you shrug one shoulder then the other
In some comedic fix of antipathy
Should be more pronounced and firm.
I'd like it better if the shoes you wore
Weren't the same pair day after tired day.
Oh, and I think you're better looking
If you'd try to wear any makeup at all.
Really. Anything would help at this point.
I would change everything about you.
The way you talk, the way you walk,
Your affability towards people,
Your desire to learn and know the world.
I would strip you of everything you are
And have and know and love
And make you into someone new,
Someone different, someone...whole.
Because with all these not so bad qualities
I see in you through your wary eyes,
Are a host of demons lurking
In the black parts of your soul.
And I would rid you of them
For they haunt you and scare you
And turn you into someone I don't know.
If it means all the things I love and cherish,
All the quirks and smirks that make me smile
Must die in bloodshed as well,
Then so be it.
I would change everything about you.
If it meant that the things that drive you mad,
That tear you away from my side
In a fit of chaotic turbulence,
That make you cry uncontrollably in the dead of night,
Would all be expelled from your being,
Then I would gladly give up
The person I love
In exchange for someone else.
For I would rather you be someone totally different
And still holding my hand,
Than to see you drift further and further away
Into the darkness of your mind.
  Jun 2014 Riq Schwartz
Kida Price
Open eyes
Check
Stand up straight
Check
Sit back down
****...
Pull the covers back on
****.
Check the web
Fine
Hear some tunes
Alright
Open eyes
Check
Stand up straight
Check
Empty bowels
Check
Sit in the shower
Oh no
Fall asleep
****
Freezing and wet
Awake
Force myself to shake
Awake
Get dressed and contemplate
Check
Invent a list for the day
Check
Sit on couch
****
Netflix has a new show season
Just a couple to start the day
****
Pull the covers back on
****
Eat something
Check
Walk a dog or look in the mailbox
Move
******* move
Too bored to think
Too lazy to speak
Too drained to creep
A zombie trapped in this house for weeks
Riq Schwartz Jun 2014
My laundry consists
of clumps of socks, jeans, bed sheets
Once-used towels, and you.
Riq Schwartz Jun 2014
You're too loud for
your porcelain throat;
your rose blushed
china doll cheeks
crack each time you smile
     -- just a little
That silk-smooth black
hair does nothing
to keep you warm in winter
but frames your face
in perpetually delicate contrast

Your words are hammers
Actions are sparks
as much a threat to yourself.

I'm not afraid of you, only
of when you come to life
and your expression never changes.
Eyes glazed over
standing silent sentry
unaware that features
are only paint thin;
thinking a silk-shod body
makes you a princess
rather than a plaything.
Riq Schwartz Jun 2014
My body is flaking
like some ashen mistake
crispy, true
wispy too
as the breeze makes me break
So assemble your respirators
don't breathe me in
You'd hate if you let me get under your skin
I am forlorn
and airborne
I'm whimsically
whittling oxygen
out of the air that you breathe.
Yes you're probably all
better off without me.
Nothing like some high quality self-deprication to ring in a real ******* of a morning.
Riq Schwartz Jun 2014
'Tis the season for
deconstruction
and rebirth with rebar
'Tis the time for me
to create the word
chauvimaniacal
To drink
more than my doctor wants
but less than my audience deserves
'Tis a passing, flashing
immolating infatuation
toward progress
through denial and other forms
of self medication
It's summer
and I not-so-secretly
******* hate it.
I do, I really hate summer. I want my arctic vortex back.
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