Robert Ueda

Robert Ueda Nov 2013

“This Heart”

The heart bleeds black India
Though not through a vein
It's said the flesh is the sanctuary
For a soul led astray

Yet the heart is the library
Decrepit and ancient
Where the scars are the manuscripts
Collected with patience

Filled with love songs forsaken
Next to books with blank pages
For plays yet to come
Upon immaculate stages

To the melodies of mortals
With their highs and their lows
And a chorus of angels
Of which some fell below, and

Within this binding you weep, yet
At the same time you shine, for
In this heart were you born, so
In this heart should you die

This is an edit on my previous poem "My Heart Bleeds Black India".

Robert Ueda Nov 2013

She Real Cruel

She real cruel
She go hard, but
She speak sharp

She got heart

She spit fire, no
She ain't tired
She no fool

She real cruel

A little play on "We Real Cool"

Robert Ueda Oct 2013

Scattered

Foggy scribblings of last nights misinterpretations
                                                            Scattered chairs

Cotton flesh and torn stitching
                                                  Doggy dandruff

Burnt air, Bic lighters and crooked intentions
                                    Ashes to ashes

Soldiers marching in silence
                       Keep moving

Layabout possessions and broken things
A roof, at least

Robert Ueda Sep 2013

Mantra

And as I walk through the valley of the shadow of flesh
I shall fear no evil
For who am I but another person amongst the people?

And who are you but a sibling and an equal?
As such we should be treated.
To get respect it must be given

Though never was I to worship
Stories for the cradle
If you should show me Cain,
I’ll gladly show you Abel.

For nature is neither sane nor stable
And nor am I
And nor should you be
Breathe free and die beautifully

Robert Ueda Sep 2013

Eyes In The Woodwork

The eyes in the woodwork sang to me
The eyes in the woodwork sang
The eyes in the woodwork cried out to me
The eyes of the wood were in pain

Don't hurt me brother
Or ever another
The woodwork spoke in shame

And man said no
And beast said no

This is Mother's game

Robert Ueda Sep 2013

The Commentator Complex

Thinking when I'm not speaking
Dreaming when I'm not sleeping
Holding my tongue
But internally i'm screaming

Its a wonder all these things that I'm feeling
Don't make me force my own bleeding
Or stop me from breathing

It seems they live within my skin
Internalized karma killers
They say the good die young
Well the old are our pillars

So where does that leave us?
Snorting coke of the same mantle
From which we worship Jesus

Castles made of sand
Are the realty of the land
In between the paint and plaster
Huddle humorless laughter castors

And in between the organic plastic
Is where my hope lies
So long as they stay focused
Keep their mind clear and open

But who knows when
Change will come about
Like a siren to the deaf
It's silent when it shouts

The thoughtless opinion population
Sleep in the mire they were raised in
Like cave men
Not daring to walk the paths less taken

Robert Ueda Aug 2013

White Rhino

She was a hellaciously hard hittin’ heart stopper

A semi-sophisticated mother/daughter

My complex candy coated no-LSD dropper