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 Feb 2016 Val Vik
Got Guanxi
In the awkward moment between birth and death,
we are born again each morning,
dispensation of a moments breath
stalled amongst our calling.


We woke within a broken dream,
roused to break the falling,
the glisten of the sunlights beam,
broke through, exposed the fallen.


I spoke to you within my sleep,
you stirred around the cauldron,
in ways the day was ours to seize,
but couldn’t wake the mourning.
 Feb 2016 Val Vik
Cecil Miller
Talk about the way I loved you
Once upon a time!
I will always be kind to you,
But keep your valentine.

What good would come of an empty notion?
I won't sop in your love potion.

Keep your hearts of candy handy,
You might need a snack.
Wrap it up in cellophane,
Send your entreaty back.

We had our time, you had your shot.
Let's just be friends, or maybe not.

I can't think of reason one
That I should take the chance
On trusting that you'd ever change,
No, I am not entranced.

Learn the meaning of good-bye.
Walk away on down the line.

Don't look back, don't dwell upon it.
Give it no second thought.
To be clear,  I'm not mad with you,
But feelings can't be bought.

At the close, there's this to find -
I don't want to be your valentine.
I wrote the componants to this poem in early January. About halfway through, I realized the rhyming pattern of the verses had changed from alternating to four lines of couplets I worked on the arrangement to break the couplets into beidges between the larger verses, and reworked the content for continuity. I was going to keep sitting on it till the 14th of february, but I think it's ready to send out. This one really was just a fun write. It is not super serious.
Later on, I might play around with it and turn it into a song.
 Feb 2016 Val Vik
Cecil Miller
There was a woman with an ecclesiastic body.
I found out I was just one member of its congregation.
She was a soothsayer when the lights were down,
When she proved she was a succubus -
But what the ****, I've never been a saint.
She put the screws to me.

She used to belong to another man.
Now she's putting me through my paces.
If I had paid attention to the signs,
I could have seen my fate before it happened.

There was this dude I knew who was hard pressed.
I thought I might could offer him a place to crash for awhile,
So he could get his **** together.
Apparently demons have an appetite for gutter ****.

They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It was just a reminder,
Cause it really ain't no surprise.

That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.

There are accusations to bring me down,
It's like I'm already dead.
They throw down their gauntlets,
They make every pledge.
I don't trust a word they say.
They're liers and deceivers.
All they want is whatever they can get.

They prey on fools and their believers.
They'll prophesy, then pass you by
Unless you've got an edge,
The dusty demons, dryer than a dessert segde.

They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.

That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.

She never failed to cause me woe.
But, I'm not an innocent soul.
I guess what goes around,
Comes back around.
When it's harvest time, they'll know,
They done ****** with the wrong one.
Everybody reaps what they sow.

They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.

That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell

There is no such thing as kindness here.
I'll save troubles for another day,
They only multiply.

The more I see, the more I know
That strumpets belong with urchins.
They never will know,
Until they are each other's paroxysm,
But even then, they won't care.

No good deed is without a price to pay.

They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.

That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.
Last night my song writing partner(I do the Lyrics, he works up the music)  gave me the proverb "There Are No Friends in Hell" and asked me to write a treatment for another hard rock tune. He loves to rip on guitar. We talked many concepts. I reference some of the elements as a starting point, and built the lyrics from inside out.
I figured people don't get to hell by being good people. So the guy in my song is not an innocent victom. He kind of stole a woman from another guy, and in turn, she and another guy ends up ******* him over big time.
As soon as I could get home, nearly midnight, I wrote this piece. I retain ownership of the lyrics. I posted it to hellopoetry as soon as I finished it, around 1:36 the next morning. It is purposely jagged and rough because I wanted to leave a wide option for vocal styling, wailing, growling, moaning or screaming. We will make it fit whatever music he has in mind.
Initially, I wanted our collaborations to be more jazzy and r&b; routed, but our styles are kind of rubbing off on each other. Since all rock music comes from the same place, they fold well into each other.
*one final note - this song has to be very edgy if it is going to work. When you build a song around a cliche, it could easily become campy, or could be a "send up" comedic piece instead of being gritty. Sometimes I like the tounge-in-cheak outlandish approach and work toward an over-the-top affect. This is not the case with this song. It is a little thematic, but I think the real cleaverness is that hidden within the occasional expletives, the deeper subtlety of ****** innuindo can be found if you want to look for it. It is not really hidden.
What excuse can I give,
to be let go,
to be let live?

My passion has burned out,
embers of my will burning,
no longer.

Tempt me out of my shell,
why don't you,
why don't you stop?

Remind me of why I failed,
go on,
go on that journey for me.

I'm tired, okay?
Let my weak heart beat to barrens,
and barren to dust.

Let my shards of bones,
rattle like maracas within,
the sleeves of my destitute muscles.

Let the scratching of my,
weary "days gone by" voice,
remind you to avoid my troubles.

Forget about me,
so that not even remembering me,
will rustle my grave.

You stare at me in the restaurant,
when I say all this, plainly,
your mouth gaping open.

My excuses have prepared for me,
a greedy grave; I stand up, bow,
"Excuse me." I walk away.
It doesn't have to be a restaurant.

You could be an adolescent talking to a teacher, a lawyer talking to a client, a father talking to a child, a spy talking to a CIA director, a hermit talking to a pet, a police officer talking to a chief, a political campaign manager talking to a candidate, or a President talking to a nation; inside the body and mind of these people can be one ubiquitous feeling, "I want to give up right now and be victorious as I tell you, 'I quit.' "

I've been getting very tired and felt this poem suited a desire of mine.

It is and it isn't unique to me: the sense that I can never be good at anything. Or that I can never be good at anything that I want to be good at.

I hope that one day I will be able to look back on this and laugh.

That day, I hope that I will finally understand what it is to achieve something that makes me happy, but more so that I have found something that I will only doubt on the "very" worst days, yet bounce back without a care.

Perhaps that is too much to ask, and I'm not that kind of person "uggh"

What is your greatest flaw?

How do you overcome it, and what battle scars get your gears grinding on cold nights?

#boredom #tiresome #pain #enemy #emptiness #apathy #regret #help #desire
 Feb 2016 Val Vik
chris
before you **** yourself,
just remember
that there are
places you have not been
and things you have not seen.
and poems to awe
art to draw
fields to walk through,
people to talk to,
music to take in,
games to win,
and books to be read.

so why,
oh why
do you wish
to be dead?
it's your life
but the people
around you
get hurt too.
 Jan 2016 Val Vik
Got Guanxi
Queen
 Jan 2016 Val Vik
Got Guanxi
There was time my mind was yours,
But my heart is yours regardless,
The beats defined a music sheet and you played me like a harpist.

The score settled like rose petals in the essence of the tarnished
The stems remained like overtures,
And that's where it all started.

You blossomed in the minus key,
Your golden touch was midas
The treasure crept in semi clefts,
The breath I took was harnessed.

I played the jester to your beat
And bowed to you my highness.


You took my crown and held me down
The curtains closed in darkness.
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