#stores
I write music in the record store,
I'll use their piano to pen the tune.
They won't find me,
I'm good at hiding,
So someday my record will be sold there.
We kiss in the record store,
To the sound of men making music.
They won't find us,
We're good at quiet love,
So someday we'll kiss to the men playing my record.
Feb 20, 2025
Feb 20, 2025 at 10:22 PM UTC
____________
To wish dementia on anyone, one
must have some sense of the state,
mindless, or careless, must one choose
at entry, as the power on self test clicks ok
the idea
that we are in some
sorted form, some charicature of our kind,
we mortal thoughts, of the worthiest sorts,
science and religion and the arts, with
little time for developing technique,
the instant the amusement stops,
bemusement proceeds to untwist the plot,
for we are poets, are we not
bound,
by many vows we each must make, to here
the court of last resort, the literal last card,
in such games as have clear winning outcomes.
Jul 9, 2024
Jul 9, 2024 at 4:21 PM UTC
Lungs breathe stories
Heart beats poetry
Mouth hums dreams
Mind watches memories
Eyes exposes soul
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
There's hushed aesthetic
to store signs passed on sidewalks
Empty neon words.
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 10:31 PM UTC
I waited in line,
Standing behind those in need.
Women, children.
Full carts, the other cashiers closed.
I stood in line,
Barely making it to the store.
Hurrying, grabbing what I sought.
Making it over to the line before it got longer.
I waited in line.
A deep thought, It never use to be so complicated.
Coming, grabbing what you needed.
Bypassing everything that compensates essential need.
I stood in line.
Barely making it to the store.
A different brand to replace something or another.
The P.A system announced the store now closed before I could buy a new heart
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 10:55 AM UTC
Set the fire
In your desire
To become great
Amomg your mates.
Face your fears
Dry your tears
Aim far up,
Do not stop,
Loose no hope
You will cope,
Battles will end,
Do not condescend.
Set your eyes
On the prize,
It is yours,
Fill your stores.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 3:44 PM UTC
"The fireflies are out tonight" he remarked, plodding barefoot behind her. Dusk fell over the stoic faces of skyscrapers that lined the three blocks ahead of them. "First I've seen this season", she replied in a near whisper, moon-eyed and gazing at something over the space where the park was.
//stop//
Her ears emerged from beneath the water she'd grown accustomed to the temperature with her laps up and down, trying to wash away the earlier happenstances of the day. It was warm beneath the surface, but the breeze made her feel brittle.
//Stop//
"...or was it more of a situation entirely different?" the boy questioned. She stared blankly at his awaiting gaze. How long had she been under? she had no idea. She'd gotten lost in thought and, as usual forgotten to count her laps. It just figured. It was like her to drift off like that. She shrugged to herself and closed her eyes as she leaned back into the water, once again drowning out the dull sounds of obscure questions that dripped out of his mouth. She closed her eyes as she swung her legs up to the wall and exhaled as she pushed back and drifted once again to the other side of the pool.
//stop//
She was dripping wet and a man was escorting her to a new room. It smelled of grease and cigarettes. The lighting was bad.
//stop//
All dry now, except her hair. She was warmer though. She exited her current surroundings through the only door. There, to the left of the desk on the floor. She quickly skipped over and slipped them on.
//stop//
Her hair was almost completely dry and she couldn't stand still. He was cleaning in his boxers by the kitchen sink. She'd pulled up the rug in front of the makeshift TV computer screen and she danced in front of the window, happy he couldn't see.
//stop//
it's late. much later. she wanted to go upstairs but she was having a hard time trying to care. Maybe the girl she used to know would help her out with a little artificial sweetener to fight off the sleep. She could at least see.
STOP.
C.e.m. 6.11.15
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
Mothers day is fine
I don't mind it
not one bit
except when TV tells me
to buy up gifts n' ****
I really love my mother
I love her every day
so if I spend some money
will it be better
love to play?
If I buy her pretty flowers
or a fancy Ipod case
will she think that I so love her
more than words
could ever say?
How 'bout I draw a picture
just like the good ol' days
or make her something special
like an ashtray
made of clay
My kids I know they love me
they show me all the time
they don't need to
buy me presents
I know that they are mine.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
'Sayyah'
It translates to shadow.
Our thoughts
An unending train of stories, pictures, people
Instances,
In race with a fast moving train
Pause, and I look out
Reaching beyond my sight of vision
The last of the last man standing afar
Last to the last shelter I can spot
Our thoughts
A vivid imagery
Words and phrases collide
Compete,
They demand to be heard
They're beautiful and simplistic
My thoughts
In the shadow of my being
Looking forward to each day
Each ray
Each light
The sun
The moon
They're what compose me
My thoughts
Unending and surprising me each new day.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC