"demilitarized" poems
All we have are rainy days,
all of our love is filled with pain,
all of our joy has been washed away,
and right before us is a stream of tears
a river cried out by you,
because of our tensions similar to the cold war
our cold fighting turn to hot
but then cools down and then were back,
to just spitting words that burn like a blazing fire
melts our ears like acid, and pierces our hearts like a spiraling arrow man,
these rainy days that we are in, this down pour and these hard winds,
our love is a battlefield we're at war and it hurts
and we spread our wings but we don't seem to soar,
this hurricane has been here for days, over our heads,
spinning us into a depression, its like a straight line that we just can't bend
but still we apply pressure, though you try your best to change
you're in love with your sin,
as that good feeling from something so wrong haunts you,
paws at you pleading like a puppy waiting,
purring like a cat in anticipation, knowing that you are just saying,
you won't do it.
but yet you still get caught up in its draft and go back
and just like that our temporary peace breaks
and our demilitarized feelings get militarized once more,
and as we draw our swords and pull out our guns,
we hit each other like atomic bombs and ruin our land of love,
or at least our little figment of how it seems to be,
and we war and war for what seems like no end,
with words and your fists, but I don't bite back,
not even when I should, cause you've done it so many times,
you still blow away my urging mind,
and this fantasy I have in my mind of how our love should be
I knew we were meant to be,
but this fantasy is dwindling
and I pray it don't, now a wish
as I out this fire that we have spread,
this wildfire which goes on and seems as if there is no end,
our rainy days sees some sun,
but can we stand the rainy days......
until the sun comes.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
I be dapping
random *************
in the club.
A ***** walk up to me with a beer,
throws me a hand
and I dap him up.
We smile
and I don't even
know dude.
I swear
I've
signed Peace Treaties
in the club.
It's crazy, because sometimes
the girls
be acting foul
and cold;
even when you try
to grind
handing
them
a beer
as
a
peace-offering
they look back at you
across
demilitarized zones.
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
On the streets of Baghdad
Stood a man begging for peace
And honesty
And quiet on the sabbath
And in the wreckage
Of Sunnis and Shiites
And deaf from the bomb blasts
He was finally allowed to have it.
Jun 20, 2011
Jun 20, 2011 at 8:44 AM UTC
together, more than a century
it occurs to his fresh coffee'd brain,
as he,
sliding in behind, half-assedly,
as in half in/half off the bed,
but the rest, the best, nestled, ensconced,
in a serpentine curvature connected
smiling too loudly,
titter~muffled giggle
at the passing by, a funny bone notion,
that combined, conjoined,
together, more than a century,
well, and well more, than that,
a depository of collections, nuances,
cross filed, so that our recollected told tales,
have been all heard before and will again
be retold with a swelling newness
to newborn readers,
checking out the classics
the roar of my suppressed soundings,
clearly too louding,
sleepy hoarse asks
the inevitable "what's the chuckle,"
so accustomed she be to my,
unexpected laughs expectorated,
menagerie of multiplicity of muckled
roars and guffaws, tee hee's,
she will n'ere be satisfied
with a non-answer,,
with a wiley evasion to
her invasion of my innermost
"occurs to me we are a very historical
(never employing that olden adjective)
library,
two cuddling librarians,
who are compelled
to our shelves,
to add a new book daily"
she laughs and kindly requests,
my immediate departure,
for having caused her by
mine awoking and
her evoking
laugh,
to be kicked out of the
library
for excessive noise making
not the first time,
and not the last,
he laughs,
uproariously,
in the deepest of his innermost,
hidden in the silent stacks of their library,
in a demilitarized zone,
neath two pillows soft by,
lest he be shushed vociferously,
by his once again, softly sleeping,
co-conspirator
librarian
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 7:29 AM UTC