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J J Jan 1

Please, pretty pastoral blue
with the force of a stem through muck
tangled up with the rose's hue
lift me up and lift me higher
drag me throughout the earth,

i can taste the dirt in your fingernails and it tastes beautiful...
so beautiful, for it belongs to you
and you don't belong to words or images or interpretation
you are you and you are my saviour in every way as I'm yours

so Please, take me apart
and take me away
i am not this poem nor this painting
i am not an art as i would like to be
and neither are you, but together we conjoin to form an embryo of melody

like bubble's dispersing their seeds to the sea
at the fastest hardest softest gentlest stupidest cheekiest sexiest pleasantest frame viewable
as well as the sparks out of frame.

If I die only to be reborn I know you'll be with me

like a thorn in my heart waiting for its day to be found,
snagged, ripped and knitted into a cardigan to keep me warm apparently forever

only to be slipped and slid until wrangling unbound;
you are a metaphor too cheesy to put into words—
so **** sounding forced I'll just say i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you

i love you so much it hurts to straddle this trapeze rope weaved in leather tobacco smoke
That holds ongoing lies aswell the truth that would break you and i know you've your own trade's –i wasnt born yestardy–
(although at times when i wake up it can feel that way)
Yet i use that as a sort of faux sawdust justification; the truth is that I’m too weak to face my weakened state
and confront it head on, until today... so please please listen when i say that
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love


I played too much music too loud and now I'm sound-numb
sounds dumb, dont it? did you expect me to be handling
the transition well? Whole family is dying and I just want to be wanted
And my thoughts can feel like such a burden
So please, tie no jealousy to my concerns
cause if your mind was like mine half the time you'd know
not to even ask,

and you dont,

most of the time,

yes, she is the emerald rowed a million lifetimes or more
caught in its blink-length transition to gold...
too beautiful for words or colours to even briskly define
and I am yours and in my fantasy of you you are mine,
two wisping spirits whispering esoteric bitemarks in the dark!
hear that thunder? that's my heart.
hear that struggle, that's my breath.
think its going strong? that's the cocktease surge before my death
and my death is so holy to me as yours is to you and hers to ours

I spent the day binding the clockarms over wrinked beige
every day feels  the same

although i do try so hard to be your star
i spent the day tracing papertrails trying to make the lexicon fit our names
but its as good to me as sanskrit, as the dirt is to the seas that birthed it
and womb it still.
You sleep at my side and transition your nightmares into mine
one quiver at a time,
hold me close, this preaged preworn deformed flesh of mine is not my skin,
hold me closer, feel my skin become yours as fingertips scape out a chin
and a neck, curling trickling like tiny raindrops downeth
to the place once signified and defined as ***** sin
not the art nor stretch-marked temple it is

Blossoming blossoming blossoming in chaotic collision and marking love

Beyond a touch or a name or a place

And yes, i still feel her
Calloused and pliable as playdough

Rubbing palms and clasping
Together into a cocoon
To awaken tomorrow as a whole new entity.
I feel more whole for my confessions although
You hate me for it,
I feel more myself for my confessions
And I’ve never felt so lovingly distant...

Being optimistic, I just say 'who knows what tomorrow will bring'

And strum this whisper into your snoring song.

So please,
Be here tomorrow.
Written Dec 2019
Ambitious lil boi
BoogzThePoet Oct 2018
And though we've all commonly been caressed by oppressive distress,
We're granted the opportunity
To Repossess
Our spirituality.

These are the rules that reign our domain.
i remember the day he asked me
"Yo, Boogz, you wanna run a session",
What the **** was he thinking?
****, I'll run it on a neurotic progression
Of this lyrical obsession,
Forget your indiscretion,
I'll leave your head knotting in impression
Have you second-guessing the oppression of this "session",
And embedded with my confessions,
No order or succession,
Personal expression is not my profession, but I think im getting clear to you

If you want meaning out of this,
Good luck I'm gonna need a C-section,
See, its all words strung together only identifiable by the person who wrote 'em,
Any questions?

Good, cuz i have one for you.
Have you ever seen a person with a soul glimmering gold
Who strolled down the wrong road?
A person who stowed such a load of mold
That he couldn't unfold,
And the end result was to implode?

Well I've met a lot of them. Including me.
In fact this room is full of them.
But we're not outcasts
unless we place that label on our skin,
There's too many good intentions fighting to win,
But its almost like we have this evil twin,
This Mr. Hyde that hides within,
It's actually a good thing the shell is thin,
And since we all share this downfall,
It doesn't matter what shade our skin is... we're kin.
Our tears run from eyes in the same que.
We've all been beat down,
Felt defeated,
To cry
But we all grow bolder,
Become generals,
And in order to be a general - first you gotta be a soldier.

I commend all men who ascend to the end,
Whose worlds of pretend
Transcended through the bends,
Twists, and all kinds of mends, to meet.

The ones who make are examples,
That we don't have to die.

The journey of a million tears,
Starts with that first lump in your throat.
It's only a speed bump.
You can get over it.
Your addiction.
wes parham Nov 2017
Slow is her progress and high is her climb,
It's measured in arcs that trace my night sky.
I spoke and she answered, but only in rhyme,
Across space and time, the poetess and I.

In my dream we met, and she told me she'd written,
Something dear to her kind heart- a poetic creation.
For Sara herself, I was utterly smitten,
And I urged her to share it, with awkward elation.

I rambled then, foolish, and shy to be near,
Since her words had already reached me before.
In a future that’s past yet, paradoxically, here,
And knowing, not knowing, just what was in store.

“There's a poem that you wrote...”, I had started to say,
“In the Bradbury story, I think that's the one”,
“There's an automated house that's going through it's day...”,
“It recites your piece aloud...?  but the people have all gone...?”

“ ‘There will come soft rains’,dear friend”, her reply,
And her smile said, “thank you.  I'm glad you recall”,
But this one is shorter”, and her voice was a sigh,
It’s a different theme, but encompasses all”.

Then, as you'd expect, in the midst of a dreaming,
She opened her notebook and the next thing I knew,
Four lines of writing appeared, only seeming,
To arrange themselves magical, universal and true.

"Moon's  Ending"  by Sara Teasdale

Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill,
In the dawn clouds flying,
How good to go, light into light, and still
Giving light, dying.


Every step of our lives, we are walking the line,
Fail or succeed, illuminated in the trying,
The moon is just as bright when she's on the decline,
Our light, consolation to the living or dying.

Thank you, poets. You gave everything that you could,
When you’d make something holy from the simplest spark.
Thank you, friend, for understanding. I had hoped that you would.
Thank you, Sara, for writing the light and the dark.

This is for another collaboration with a composer in the Netherlands, Dennis Ramler.   He wrote a composition inspired by a poem that he loves called "Moon's Ending" by Sara Teasdale and asked if I could write something to mix in.  This is what I came up with.    I'll post a soundcloud link once Dennis has mixed and mastered his track.   The idea was a dream-memory in which the speaker meets Sara just as she has written "Moon's Ending" and entreats her to share it.  They ramble awkwardly about another poem of hers that was used in a short story by Ray Bradbury.  The poem is followed by, basically, a paraphrasing of how I interpret "Moon's Ending" and the final stanza is gratitude for poetry, poets, friendship, understanding, and for Sara who wrote so lyrically about beauty, love, life, and death, each in equal measure of respect and gratitude.
Samuel H Oct 2017
The road winds and winds
until we lost our way back,
back to where we were.
As the clock ticks away
the image of you fades away.
You might be unforgettable
but I’m afraid my days are reducing you to a decimal.

The road winds and winds
and I’m standing here on your spot,
the spot where I picked you from the sea of climbers.
You were grooving to your playlist like I was; a rare sight.
The memory of you hanging on to those rocks, not giving up
like a stubborn chipmunk.
I knew I had to talk to you.
“Do you want chocolate milk? It makes you stronger.”
And just like that
2 walls built with earphones collided; a rare sight.

The road winds and winds
but I keep looking back,
back at that night when sand in hour glass stood still,
back at that night when the crowd was just the 2 of us just chill,
back at the time before I said what I shouldn’t have said and it went downhill.
That was me trying too hard, that was me being a ******.
I put us six feet under,
and now i will forever be in wonder.
I could have said ANYTHING, ANYTHING instead
but my ego denied your breakfast in my bed.

The road winds and winds
and all that I’m left with are the memories of
your charm
your calm
and the way I made you disarm.
You laughing at my cheesy rhyme,
it was as if a ray of sunburst gleamed on my crystalized heart
melting the cold away,
but most of all
I remember
the way you challenged me in the game of silly witty jest.
No one has ever kept up but you, you kept up; a rare sight.

The road winds and winds
leaving me behind phantomly blind,
phantom… because we were never anything.
I want to say please don’t go, oh please don’t go
but we both know… that’s not how it’s gonna go.
It’s easy to say *“That wasn’t me! I’m not actually like that.”

But that was me
I did that and I hated me
So now i gotta own it
Now i gotta live with it
What I did haunted me in the night
woke me up in cold sweat
and your fainting silhouette stuck on my damped chest
I took a misstep
and made a mistake
And now i feel nothing but ache

The road winds and winds*
and I don’t know the way back.
I was being stupid and now I'm living with it.

Spoken on SoundCloud:
aviisevil Jul 2017
O' K    AVI  
       ( LYRICAL)
       LINK in BIO

I wish I was more than what I turned out to be,
I wish I was who they always wanted me to be
another lie in this sea of corpses hanging on to each other,
without any dreams or sight,

I wish I was as dark as night,
so they could see the flaws in every light,
I wish there was no need to pretend that I am no one yet,
but they know not to forget,
what they once wanted me to be,
I wish I was free in this world locked in chains and scars,
I wish I wasn't a machine and had a heart,

that everything was more beautiful than how they claim,
these empty words that fall down on my conscience like winters rain,
forming icicles that dangle over my head waiting for me to speak,
I wish I was weak,
so I could give in to their desire and leave,

tear a hole in my head and bleed 
every thought they want to ******
I wish I was young again,
so, I could be afraid of the things beneath my bed,
instead of the voices inside my head,
I wish I was dead,
so they could stop counting my every breath,

I am not, what I have always pretended to be,
I am too cold, and they are too old,
to see,
beyond the rainbow where colours still dance in peace,
I wish I could leave,
I wish I could breathe,
in this hollow they call my home,
I'm so alone,
wandering inside my head all alone,

I wish I could mourn but I won't,
it is I who chose not to wage war on the strangers,
that have made me a prisoner within my own skin,
I wish I wasn't always burning,
for I cannot feel the pain no more. for the full track.
Father do you see your children?
They are searching for promised Eden
leaders where are our answers?
We lie sleeping in the illusion of justice
We wake and search for our liberties
but our youth is poisoned with ill ideas

The mother cries that she cannot feed her daughter
The provider worries about health as clone animals are slaughtered
We worry about dehydration as chemicals leave our waters doctored
Drugs and guns create a society that is insecure and faltered
Young brothers who have received little education and truth are martyred
Institutions limit us to transparent information about how it all started

The Weeping Eye reveals the hurt and all that leaves us ill
The Weeping Eye divulges elements that disturb our free will
  The Weeping Eye unmasks the men in suits who freedoms steal
The Weeping Eye opens the mind to the wars that leave us imprisoned
The Weeping Eye shakes us as our innocence dies
How this eye frustrates ambition as you find it hard to fly

hard to fly in a world that leaves you mostly to cry
Cry for you have no one by your side to help the pain subside
which side to reside as the colours of flags leave us blind
Nowhere to hide as our homes are surveilled and we're made to bow or they'll have us tied
tied and locked in that place which is of darkness inside

The Weeping Eye will change your mind
When we're left to pick cults and sides
When the big picture is not seen of divide
Divide and keep the hate alive
These tears should uplift your consciousness
these tears drop to ground and form into a mark of sound
a sound which is a voice
     the voice that compels you to make a choice
to be the rhythm of the Light and not of the Darkness noise

The Weeping Eye is a window and a reveltion of you and I. That soul is eternal and freedom bound.
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