I remember that summer
He covered everything
Windows
Walls
Buildings
Phone Booths (when they were just about extinct)
The sign above constitution avenue
Water fountains
He could be found next to **** Smoothie and
Cool "Disco" Dan on the red line near Takoma
Bush hates BORF

He was caught though

July 29

BORF covered everything
Adulthood
Consumerism
Hip Hop
Suicide
Laws
Politics
Obama hates BORF

Borf loved to write on people's stuff
A lot
Grown ups are obsolete
Sorry about your wall
BORFs friends live on
BORF was here
And left after writing this...

I sit here in silence
trying to write
a task that will see me
far into the night.

Struggling with lyric,
wrestling with word
finding all my idea’s
absolutely absurd.

My mind a fiasco,
scrambled and locked.
Sentences stumbled.
My talent is blocked.

Though I sit concentrating,
my mind being a fighter
but there still is no tapping
on this old typewriter.

If just one idea
should reveal to me
an happier person
I know you would see.

If some lyrical phrase
would just come to my mind,
no longer amnesiac
and no longer blind.

I would wear out my fingers
typing what I desire.
Digits covered in plasters
whilst machine is on fire.

I would pick up a pencil
so I may carry on,
scribbling madly
till the lead is all gone.

But alas there is nothing
not even a grain
or anything else
floating round in my brain.

My nerves they are screeching,
my sinews in shock.
I pray never again
do I get writers block.

when a writer dies,
only twenty-six attend his funeral
and poems cry.

every word is
futility stuck in the
keyboards like thick,
obsidian oil and the typewriter
clicks and it clicks and it
clicks its asinine teeth;
mocking the slow sad
lilt of my prose that is
supposed to eat up
the pages, like smoke in your
throat and hey i can’t breathe
kind of eating, gorged— but
instead they just sit and quietly
play in the grass;
they are idle. they
do not swallow
the world like i
want them too they
just sit.

As you write you are hundreds.
Become the thief, murderer, and sacrificed.
You stand at the crossroads,
leading the sheep
and angry bulls.

Feel for the nemesis,
Feel for the grandfather --
their fluttering leaves of childhood worries.
You must feel from the heart for the sad.

"Help Us"
"**** Them"
You stand with one foot on each side
of that line drawn in the sand
with chalk.

Write, because in the pages
a rose is a poison, a city is a flower,
and the truth can leak from the pages,
and the fingers of the reader will absorb
and carry the truths to the heart.


Poppy P.
8/24/14

I am a good thinker
yet a bad writer

However, I am a dreamer
so I will keep on writing
like a child keeps on drawing.

feeble ribs
caressing porcelain  
hearts

ink dipped tongue
every word he
uttered was
poetry

she painted him
with hues of gray
leaving a piece
of her crumbling
soul in each
stroke

his sleepless nights
spent with
pencil smudged
fingers
trying to find
the words
to describe her

they were 2:00 am
lovers
with blemished
hearts trying
to find love
in each other

~ am

I hear your song echo in the midst of the  night
With my bare feet, I walk in the dark
Just to see you, the voice that I hear
Never care of the risks I have to bear.


Your voice guides me where I should go
The echoes are the trails and now I can see you
You tell me some stories which makes me ponder
I laugh at every humorous word while we chatter.


Who shall forget you as my caring guide?
You lead me into my world, now I don’t have to hide
For I am now complete, an artist of my kind
Your song pushes me up to take pleasure of my mind.

It'd be so much
Easier to drown in
water
Than to drown in
Depression
Because at least
In water
I can try
To swim
But in Depression
I am stuck
Between
Being a mess
Or being a
Suicide case.
And so far
I've forgotten
How to comb
My hair
And to care
About what I look like
When I go out
After weeks of
Not going out.
And I've forgotten
How to smile
To strangers
On the street
Who might
Need it
More than I.
I am a mess.
And every day
I live
Every moment
I breathe
I begin
To think
Being a
Suicide case
Would be
Much much
Easier.



s.j.q.