When I look at you,
I'm pretty sure my heart melts.
I don't know how to explain that
but it's how I feel and how I've felt.
You're becoming my happy place,
you're making me brand-new.
I thought I should let you know that
I think I'm in love with you.

At the money table, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac,

And neither one cares how you’ll pay as long as it is not a check,

Brassy appendages obversely curl to abruptly angular truncated legs-upon-his-lek,

And the proof of who he represents hangs weightily about his Plouton neck,

See the cotton-wafer stacks shuffled as bricks in rows to the translucent deck,

The waiver now giving its woe whence once wished-for upon the Great Molech?

Mr. crooked hook-nose at his compose will take on any bet,

As Sheol will have it, many lament, being in his debt,

A Canaan cursed and tribal descendant, the relative of Set.

For with misery and suffering well you get what you beget!

My name is Young Slug
and I write hip hop songs.
The lyrics sound as clear
as a lady slurping dongs.

Martin Luther King once told me
that my mother was a ****.
So I whipped out a baseball bat,
and ****** him in the ****.

I think he liked it too much,
cause he was moaning "colonel sanders,
stick it in my ***... and make me dry like the flanders."

“An ill of greed has befallen the land,”

“A quickening sickness which seeks to prey…”

“Where wealth accumulates and men decay.”

to the love i fell in across the ocean, i am still drowning in you. -Amman

I love my name.

Well, my pseudo name.

The name I chose for myself, I am in love with it.

Not that I don't like my real name, that name is lovely. It lives in a palace with princes and stars ad magic, and I appreciate my mother for choosing it. It is magic, and I feel that fits me.

But my chosen name, my writing name, is a part of me too.

Grace Jordan.

It holds a pun and a dream and my heart all in one.

I always see myself as messy, clumsy, but not in the traditional senses. My mind is a mess and my actions are clumsy, sometimes even thoughtless. I am impulsive and too much of me for me to handle. I see myself as something far from grace.

Yet it is a dream. I would love to be poised and handled and stable and graceful. I want to live up to the name I have given myself, so in all honesty it is more of a hopeful promise than a pun, though I always write it off as one.

But I doubt I will ever attain that. Not being cynical, merely knowing myself. I love mess, I love spontaneity, I love the chaos that comes with living. I guess in a way I mean to find grace, find peace in the chaos, and be a stable mess. I know it all sounds like contradictions and complexities, but that's all I know, and all I will ever be. So I must work with that and make it my own.

Now the heart. Jordan was someone I lost long ago, and he holds my heart and always will. But I can still love, and I can still dance, and I know he would smile at that, so its all that matters. His happiness, and in turn, my happiness.

So self-centered, to write an entire piece about my name, right? Well maybe I am a little self-centered. Maybe I have actually learned to love myself a bit, and revel in my own glory. I love my writing self most, I think. And my writing self, in my heart, I will be.

Grace Jordan, reporting for life.

That's who I will be, secretly.

I enter the light that's in my mind,
I search and search,
If only you I could find.
I know when you look down upon me,
You see the pain & strife in me.
Why does it hurt me so?
When we lost you 10 years ago??
I search and I search,
In my dreams...
But it's never you I see.
This love is slowly killing me.

Copyright
♥Crystal Rose♥

you can't say that I was the one who kicked you out of my heart, when I spent months kicking and screaming, begging for you to come back to me. I sat, festering inside myself for days, and did nothing but stare at the walls that had a nasty habit of only showing where your fingers brushed against their sickly white barriers. walls.
I'll never forget the pleasant  cool feeling of the staccato wall of our high school,  pressed up against my back when you first kissed me. I'll never forget the day I wrote your name in the sand. I'll never forget the day that you built a wall so high around your heart, that not even you would dare to reach inside, for fear of falling in, and never finding a way out. I used to pretend that after the years, you'd let down your flowing golden rod hair, and I'd climb my way back into your soul, but I see now why they call happy endings like that fairy-tales. I loved you then, and I love you now, but you are no longer the bearer of my soul. you no longer hold my beating heart in your cold hands. I've spent weeks scaffolding the burnt brick built up about your breast, refusing to look down, refusing to see reason, to look to the crashing sea below me, but the trembles from your wrath shook me off and broke me down, and sent me plunging into the churning sea below. the powerful waves, held me down, stole my breath, broke my strength. It was what bound me. kept me in delusion. yet, it was bliss, and the choking vice around my lungs rid me of the hunger and the pain. I let myself drown in you, and drifted, broken, to the new shore. I allowed you to flood my lungs to keep me afloat. little did I realize, it was your iron grasp on my heart keeping my head above the waves. or was it my hope for you that held me up? was it my optimism of a better place that drifted me? I guess I'll never know.
it is with new legs, and fresh face, that I humbly walk these new shores, that I bear my heart and soul to breathe another lover's name, once again.

(a.m.)(e.a.h.)
08/19/14

Sterling eyes close the falling red ward
Big Brother has seen it all
He tells me: there is danger
Terror past the massive, all-protecting Atlantic

Don’t stray there, the mouth
of stumbling heads say,
They want to take away
Our safety, our ways, our Freedom

Mr. Elected reassures
Nothing will harm you
Not with me going there
I don’t want you going there

He speaks like my mom
Warning me of the illicits
I am too vulnerable to experience
It’s death I’ll go to- I’ve been told

Sleepless red monocular
Enlightening the air to a passive blue
It’s opacity beneath and above
Ascending again

Mama and Baba say it’s time to go home
I confront the arid peninsula of Qatar
Lungs accustomed, vitality not frozen
Precariously perceiving the harmful

Sentiments of years past in Jordan,
I wonder why
my kin would ban this place
Rumor on dirt pavement in a draft, ears picking up

The Atlantic is not to be crossed,
A lack of morals, malintentions
lay beyond the scape.
Extravagant grenade above,
Falling to the horizon

And no detonation, collapsing behind a curved veil
Skyward lay the remnants
Of heat, frozen in time
The lips in a box on this shoreside

Warn the zephyrs from the ornery
Reaches towards our home
Be on guard of the deceitful
star at night that rains red

Tomorrow may not be there
My blood brothers of Lebanon say,
But I wait, field of vision
aligned to the east

Aural stumbles translate, articulating
My brethren begin their search of food
And in too many moments unnoticed,
Black on bottom, red on the low, blue slowly suffocating the obscurity above