' Inborn Poet ' - Poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Inborn talent
bards have
to express

Innate drive
intuitive mind
intimate feelings

All these
are factors
poets possess

To inscribe
poetic phrase
describes life

Poetry writing
is only an instrument
composing it is inborn

You cannot be what you want to
You cannot stay who you are
You'll never get there from here
You'll never get that far
    
     The loop goes round and round
     The sound on autoplay
     The noise is loud inside my head
     I cannot get away

Who do you think you are
Why do you even try
You came into this world with nothing
And with nothing you will die

     The loop goes round and round
     Plays inside my brain
     The loop is a noose around my neck
     And around my ankles its a chain

Don't believe it don't recieve it
The loop is a deadly lie
Meant to put you in the ground
When you should spread your wings and fly

     You are precious beyond measure
     You're a priceless gift to me
     Break through the loop inside your head
     Let love set you free...
TL Boehm
02/05/06

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O lovely moon, how well do I recall
The time,--'tis just a year--when up this hill
I came, in my distress, to gaze at thee:
And thou suspended wast o'er yonder grove,
As now thou art, which thou with light dost fill.
But stained with mist, and tremulous, appeared
Thy countenance to me, because my eyes
Were filled with tears, that could not be suppressed;
For, oh, my life was wretched, wearisome,
And is so still, unchanged, belovèd moon!
And yet this recollection pleases me,
This computation of my sorrow's age.
How pleasant is it, in the days of youth,
When hope a long career before it hath,
And memories are few, upon the past
To dwell, though sad, and though the sadness last.

But look where the ocean meets the skyline,
And we're not so different,
Because as long as we're under the same sky,
I think we'll be okay.

Take up the orange-red of the sunset,
And soak in the sun drenched yellow
That makes up the sidewalks I used to wait around on,
And the colors of a sea and sky I've never known,
And together,
Almost overwhelmingly so,
It'll make something beyond compare.

I have been told bravery has nothing to do with
A lack of fear.
Bravery is being afraid,
Acknowledging the potential for danger,
And going in headlong anyway.

So I guess it makes me brave,
Getting back up,
Moving forward,
And holding your hand.

Do not rely on patterns,
Or mathematical probability,
Or scientific fact.

Patterns **** up.
Mathematical probability can be miscalculated,
And scientific fact can be proven wrong,
Upon another finding.

I close my eyes and I see storms rolling in,
And ignore the smell of rain on the wind,
Because I could be struck by lightening a thousand times,
And I'd still rather that than

Losing
You.

And suddenly there's a song in the background
(Thanks, autoplay.)
That makes me realize
(Ever so slowly, as my fingers slow in pace on the keyboard)
This isn't just my being lucky enough
To have you.
A life without you
Seems a lot less vibrant
As I struggle to picture
The juxtaposition
Of a life by your side
And a life without.

And maybe the fear
Of becoming yours
And becoming attached
Is more like my fear of heights
Than my fear of the dark.

It isn't heights I'm afraid of.
It's falling from them.

I'm not afraid of being part of your life,
Of living a life with you by my side,
I'm frightened by a life without you there.

I'm a whole person,
Don't get me wrong.
But there's a part of me
That's easier to show to you
Than for me to see,
And I like who I am
With you,
Better than the person I am
Without you.

I am a better me,
Because of my Bluebird.

I know I'm a little disjointed,
A little matter-of-fact,
Not too swift on the uptake.
Part of it could be repressing the good parts of life for so long,
The other part could be being blind to them,
For so very long.

Falling backwards through an ocean of absences
with the quiet grace of aimlessness
together we have known each other's empty
we've learned about the small moments and the envy.
Traced our history and discovered little sad pieces of you or of me
and wondered if it was actually an ocean of absences or sea.
Spellcorrected sentimental nothings and autoplay left on throughout the night.
Towers of hopeful maybe and pillars of might.
Alone together all these many years and deep in study
until we've been kneaded smooth like so much putty.
I know you better than I know myself, she purrs in his ear
Ditto he whispers with new oceans of absent fear.

You've seemed to find a way
To shift and slip into the cracks and crevices
And empty spaces
And open wounds
All over me,
So now you can see me,
Not as the overly enthusiastic
Spastic
Friendly, self deprecating front.

You can see whatever small,
Injured,
Slowly healing
Shaky on her feet,
Too shaky to fly
Bird that's inside me.

And I'm so scared,
Because what if that's not what you wanted or came for?
And still.
Even still.
No bone in my body doubts you,
There's not one sinking feeling.

Only fear that I might be taking this all wrong,
And that's on me.

There's a song I used to write to.
Iridescent.
When things got bad, I used to write to that song,
Just everything until it stopped.
Until I stopped.
It's my coping song.
I was able to stop buying bandages after I started doing that.

Sometimes I'd only listen to half the song.
Sometimes I'd have it on repeat for hours.
Sometimes the typing and clacking of my fingers would drown out the music.

Sometimes the lyrics would drown everything else,
And I'd just lay there,
Rubbing the anxiety and overwhelming urge to disappear
Out of my wrists.

I'm listening to it now.
But really listening to it.
Mainly because the song that makes me think of you
Come onto autoplay
Three songs after this one.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be wrong.
I'm afraid to open up.
I'm afraid.
But trying to open up
Isn't so bad
When you're already rooted so deeply inside me.

And it terrifies me,
But I like it.
Not the fear, no, that's dumb.
The fact that when you lay your head on my chest,
I'm nervous,
And my heart speeds up,
But being in your arms
Is the closest to heaven I've ever been.

And there are parts of me I don't want
You to see or know about
But you haven't run off yet,
And I doubt you really will.

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Poems by John Ackerman : 351 / 669

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Mario Vitale Dead Presidents Rap - Poem by John Ackerman
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I'm the man on the mic that's my right
the virtual Houdini always shining
but deep inside I got pain that hides
eating away my delivery of who I be
so I kick it to the curb at your word
I got raps that raise the anxiety please
gonna knock you to your knees
seeing the suckers bleed
got one foot in heaven while the other is in hell
but I got a great story to tell
I'm the over weight lover Mario Vitale
spreading out love making sweet history
we each go through things
another door bell rings
an explosion deep inside
we all want to run away & hide
see you on the flip side squeeze
gonna knock you to your knees
many folks just do what they please
so I took my ride down to the ocean
Surf & turf with some magic lotion
sipping on Pepsi cause that's my potion
see I got high hope for the underground
kicking vibrations with a brand new sound
can't we all just get along
Rap through the pain in your midnight hour
screaming shame with your pain & sorrow
onto soaring heights like a young G in the night
never relent to ever give up on the fight
it's a spice of life with cheap thrills it still pay the bills
taking all those pills yet knock on wood I'm not dead
got a lot rap beats flowing through my head
it's the living dead
stop me now or I'll have a face full of lead
Word

I am doing the dishes.
I see the mess but don’t feel motivated and add it to the mental list of things that need to get done, even though I feel heavy.
I have Friends on autoplay but I’m getting up every 20 minutes to finish a task that I had already started but became exhausted a partial way through.
The dishes are never ending and the trash is piling up but I’m not being lazy.
This isn’t lazy.
I’m doing these tasks in small increments because I become tired a quarter of the way through and just want to lie in bed and cut out my problems and mess of a brain.
And then you tell me that I don’t do anything either so it’s my fault too but what I’m begging you to see is that I’m trying. I’m trying to do the dishes but my body has been asleep for 3 months and I’m constantly trying to fight to wake up and be a person.
But it needs to get done.
So I will do it in increments.
I will get it done.
I’m doing the dishes.

A snooze button and autoplay should be a standard fitting on Thursday,
it's almost where, 'are we there yet' begins and ends, but not quite, still got Thursday night to do.

Coffee tastes like a false dawn
but I wasn't even born when
that broke.

Peeling my shadow off the radiator
and
looking like an ancient gladiator
I go out to fight the day.