"warranted" poems
July 4th, 2018
Where the land of the free has become obscured by the shadow
of oppression,
Its' silhouettes are the monsters
children are afraid of under their beds.
How, fireworks remind so many gunshots
Self-proclaimed nationalists cannot stay loyal enough,
to know what would be good for this land.
This land of the free,
no longer belongs to the home of the brave,
but the cowardly.
Family & children born unto what we deem unattached,
from the roots of this soil,
they are not welcomed for lady liberty's "borrowed" arms to embrace them.
When each artifact
was sculpted from an immigrant's hands,
but we've warranted their tribulations
are greater than stars on our flag.
If those stars stand for detainment,
tragedy, and fascism.
I do not proudly pledge such ideals,
embracing my heritage of greats-
who journeyed over on ships across seas.
They are the stars of America's history.
—V.H.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
PART II: A GLASS CEILING DRIPPING WITH BLOOD
Mohanad Younis, of Gaza City;
Where the sand is stained with blood
As the world feigns pity.
Broken families, unspoken tragedies –
The order of everyday life.
He was born amidst chaos and strife,
To a divorcing husband and wife.
If life were lived in peace,
This dissolution would’ve been a release.
Not much more, not much less –
A family’s lore, a decision to digress.
In war-ravaged land, however,
One needs every helping hand,
Especially a soul that was so clever.
Such a curious, voracious mind needed to understand;
A furious, rapacious search,
Unexplained conundrums to unravel and unwind.
Why do we exist?
Why do we fight and resist?
Is it worth living with all these scars on my wrists?
Does anybody outside Palestine care?
Will they keep on watching?
Or will they be unable to bear?
Of this and much more Mohanad must’ve thought,
As he sat at the Marna House Hotel,
Smoking cigarettes, freshly bought.
A student at al-Azhar, a mild-mannered pharmacist,
A prudent man who would have gotten far.
An admirer of Bassel al-Araj, another victim of oppression –
An inspirer, a brother who alleviated his depression.
Hunted down and killed by the IDF,
Another pacifist murdered for being an activist.
One figure of many who died;
One of those who did not want to hide.
Mohanad wasn’t a resistance fighter –
He felt that such persistence did not make their burdens lighter.
Instead, he wished to make his mind brighter,
And perhaps have family of his own.
He was in love, and wanted to get married,
But life was rough, and warranted a future far more harried.
The final twist of horror?
Having the intellect to apply for University,
And deserving the respect needed to obtain a reply,
Yet not being allowed to leave the city.
That is the news Mohanad had received,
Hopes and dreams suddenly deceived.
Denied a right to education
Because he was born on the wrong end of a cruel fabrication.
The glass ceiling, dripping with blood,
Swallowed his hopes whole like a flood.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 10:04 AM UTC
The cursed Porcupine
The closer he gets to you
The more he will wound
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
By Joseph Childress
“Habeus corpus!!!”
Yelled in court
From some youngin’
In the back row
As he rose
With a roll of parchment
The constitution laid dead in his hold
.
A gleam seen in the judge’s eyes
As he glances, quickly
Behind glasses
While guards escort
The disrupter of courts
To the unknown
.
All hail the corpse of freedom!
Warranted from the lack of warnings
All hell: The corporate companies cooperating
In coup d’etats
Disguised as peace keepings
Offering the
Sacrificial kings of Africa
Offing the
Head of state
In a distasteful display of feardom
Fear dominates
The war on terrorism
Military minions pillage the dominions
Of the defenseless
The final blow
Screams
Like the Final Call
In the falling of an empire
Protesters test the unrest
And spread
Words
That are read
In the weaving of our future
Detention
Sit-ins for those who
Speak during class warfare
Constitutions re-written
To constitute illegal imprisonment
Of free
Speakers,
Thinkers,
And believers
Citizens find it harder
To not pay attention
When the war in the Middle East
Is fought in America
Patriotic Acts to enact
Unpatriotic actions
That exact
Hate on the coward-less fraction
Surveillanced
As if ass-kissing will ever be in option
They’re warning us
To stay sleep with the rest
Those who awake
Will meet a force
Worse
Than the crusades
As they raid the houses
Of our brothers, sisters, and
Controversial, conspiracy contriving cousins
They will come
Like thieves in the night
To undue
The debt due to society
The battle begins,
And the Martyrs are ready.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Dear Night;
The day breaks like a child's neck,
And there she is -
Like a fresh sand hills beckoned seductively
By childish poetry that
Rings off the fingertips like marshmallows
Burnt from too much *****
A cradle erupts:
Two deaths turning into one,
A turning sensation of philosophers timid to experience
We are what?
We are the writhing fiends caught on
By electricity sought upon by
The high priests of a no man's land
Billy the Kid
Tragic care giving fiends telling tales
Of naturality that grow like figs neath virgins
And we share the fragrance of foreigners
Dancing neath' their dead bodies for we
Are the store fronts of the epileptic rich
Sharing nothing, we forgive the dead angels that
Share in nothing but their own salvation
And we the nation hold their hands as they are handed
Their medals that shine and beat against innocent
Sun where we - Good Humans - will always feel inferior
I take thee for my own prisoner
Let's go and check out the sun for mine own
I said I was having sun...asleep
Mine own mind was bent, crooked, doomed
Warranted evil will of course be put to light
Teller tell me what I wish to know
You tell me the secret
You wish to hold, oh' you wish to keep
We are the children you asked for
But you are so unwilling up accept
But the press is something that is intangible
They are spread spearers that are accepted as they are:
A good german; a fair dutchman; a funny Chaplin;
Genius moving with insecure marijuana.
But she presses her own soul on the glass
Never lasting - a pure bread horse
There she stands, like an egyptian statuette incarnate
Breaking through the clouds like a pillar
Bent only for salvation and glory
A cool informant next to Hemingway that breaks
The next vinyl that's hot mixed with devil sweat
Someone breathes something on my neck and I'm soon
To wonder what the next place I need to be is
So...I wonder...Myself is the one to take care of this mess?
Here we are - stagnant - like a tombstone,
Wondering what we are meant for and wondering
Where we are not supposed to go.
We have our labels.
We have our names.
And, yes, we have our jobs that were
Given to us by companies that have no face,
Only a name and yet we obey...
Too push a confidence you have to ask me
What I wish to know for the assignment that no one cares about
After I get what people will listen too
What the truth is a very thing
I love the hash that beeps like a dead hyena on the road side
Howling like a lost lover without someone to love
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
It’s like I’m chasing my dreams; barely moving, in slow motion. Stuck behind my own thoughts; too much commotion. Haters hating; my thoughts, their self-promotion. Got me, forcing my own hand; dealing with all these emotions. Learnt that; Love is pain, mixed together; a strong potion. People buying love; turns out, the people around you; will surround you to crown and ring you- claim to fame, use the same to bring shame to your name too. One wrong move; they check you in; under the deck, and bury your mate too. Blood thicker than water, paper trumps the two. Everything comes with a price; the cost they expect it to be; You. So don’t trust people, whose nature is to consume; it's will be your doom.There’s no telling what they will do. The people that you love the most – have a different point of view; the closer they are; the more they assume; the quicker they are to move. Killing you over nothing; I know – I’m so confused. Eventually, the truth bleeds through; warranted, your heart breaks too; Part two. Set the stakes too high, your right hand guy, will turn on you. Leaving you wide open; your back with an open-view. Those dollar bills, In God we Trust; one hell of a bluff- spending as we lust; because enough is never enough. Life is tough; Friend or foe; their all the same when **** happens; so it’s all good until the going get rough, then being good ain't good enough.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
She just walks into a room and causes trouble
selling her pride on the side as lil hustle
see the worries in her eyes
these guys and their lies
she doesnt love’em or trust’em
telling them lies like its nothin
A Diamond, in the rough
Smooth skin, acting tough
A lost cause, but still worth somethin.
But she doesn't know when enough is enough.
Caught in her own web of keeping up.
Using pins and needles to keep herself up.
Tried to walk a straight line, easier being ****** up.
Been fighting through a struggle her whole life
"Doing what I have to.", read her tattoo on the right
her body paying the price
addicted to the hustle and the fast life
fast cars and flashing lights
Nikki Manjing for an extra $200 a night
the money feels good
She's getting it all right.
She’s all in,
ryde or dye for life.
Her daddy telling her he loves her
she believes him
and wont leave him
cause abusive love; is still love
a pimps love is deceiving.
Same face full of tears reappear when the drugs disappear
she had big dreams, in a small town that are no longer there.
An addiction kept her here.
Working the track, lost her long hair.
From sun up until the bright sky is no longer there.
Drugs kicking in
she wishes she wasn't here.
Judge calling for her order
Warranted, Her lawyer doesn’t even care
going through her own trials and tribulations
with herself her family isnt even there
its apparent that nobody else cares
lied too many times crying wolve
now everyone and every thing gone-- they ain't there.
she sayin this ain’t fair
as its time for her to face fear.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
Shrivelled Strawberries are all juiced out.
The fields are to long they block out the streams.
Save yourself from the grains then dropped to many blind mice.
Mines a fried egg , in demand for a content Sunday morning.
Existing for your touch and picture in a frame.
There will be nothing left yearn for but the nest in virtual gain.
Never warranted, never examined.
Dripping taps and a head full of sour *****
Get born again and have the hourly flap jack.
What’s the reason? Give another slip.
I saw this coming, the brand new exclusive six hour clip.
Loaded in a dangerous weapon of peace.
Embrace the floor, thought it shallows the soles of boundless feet.
Inherit the soul that squeezes.
There are the strawberries in a picnic in the middle of winter.
Call us callous and homeless with bitter springs.
Must I follow gutless, mute kings?
I ate the dinner and the news does stink.
You must forgive, you must forget.
This demon sinister is hell bent.
No better to speak the truth.
Jockey full of **** will coil, shake and drain the juice.
Much love and strawberries thought the mouths are dry.
Much prefer a leg of lamb.
Near Apocalypse and blessed is the tinned spam.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 9:52 AM UTC
Charity and love
go hand in hand
From my perspective,
it's two breeds of the same species
To love encompasses the desire to give
yet charity has its limits
But what limits can be placed on a charity of love?
Endless giving even as much as my soul
and the purity that's left of
which you never turned away
greed is your sin
consuming the broken pieces of me
as if it were a buffet
But wait Hey!
if you consume all of me
what is left of me
the parts you control
in fear of being alone?
How is it possible to fear
what we've already experienced?
Is the experience that horrific and unrewarding
horrendous to the mind and eye
daily disrespect is ok and warranted
Warranting questions of common sense and more
dare we say even sanity
all in the name of love and charity
because what need do I have of me
without giving to the one I love
because he needs
more than me
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
ALERTS TO FINANCIAL AND MILITARY THREATS IN 2012 EUROPE
By John Cleese (British writer, actor and tall person):
The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria
and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to
"Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to
"Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not
been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran
out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A ******
Nuisance." The last time the British issued a ****** Nuisance" warning
level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.
The Scots have raised their threat level from ****** Off" to "Let's get
the ******** They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they
have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.
The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror
alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France
are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent
fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing
the country's military capability.
Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly"
to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective
Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."
The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance"
to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher
levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."
Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat
they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.
The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy.
These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish
navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.
Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to
"She'll be alright, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: ****** I
think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is
cancelled." So far no situation has ever
warranted use of the last final escalation level.
A final thought -" Greece is collapsing, the Iranians are getting
aggressive, and Rome is in disarray. Welcome back to 430 BC."
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
Walking, but just carried
One, five, another
Ignoring the background whispers
And the words of my mother
Passing another, without recognition
I will climb every mountain
I'll never ask for permission
Results accurately display the current conditions
Intentions can be questioned
Scan this place for a moment
Non-action is non-action
No claim to submission
Game time, now own it
Integrity is not my invention
Present, direct attention
To the clouds, over the other direction
Blood boils like classic convention
I'll say that reality is wrong, dreams are for real.
Keep bending corners on life-warranted wheels
Great minds, start thinking, change can be real
Come to inside various naked walls, situations
Schedule those ineffective, biased evaluations
Go to a poor country, try to survive some starvation.
How does a heavy nose remain at high elevation?
Passion, giddy with six-digit dedication?
Scan this for a moment
Respect is earned,
Those hands are too small to hold it
Infinite efforts to label and mold it
Unfit to claim it or fold it
This world is the world's world
Karma visited them.
Who thought they sold it.
History repeats itself
Who wrote it?
Who told it?
Apparently Texas thinks they can own it.
But my world has an afterglow
This is not the crest smile
Or the beat of this flow
It's the pursuit of happiness
Growth, searching high
And searching low
Learning to be learning
And learning how to know
Finding love
Lessons, how to show
To keep the richer, better things
Life's breeze, endurance as my life's seams
To live, yes, but forever to dream.
I'll enjoy this reality scene.
vi.xxi.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 6:27 AM UTC
Tonight, at work, I asked 10 people
if they knew of what had happened
at Los Angeles International Airport (henceforth: LAX)
not 30 hours earlier.
Only 2 had heard of it.
One, because a cousin was traveling that day
and, the other, because a regular at his restaurant
also had family who had left LAX just before it happened
just in time to be stopped with the rest of the traffic
for two and a half hours.
I find that sort-of strange;
information, even if misinformation
spreads too quickly and ubiquitously now-a-days
with our cell-phones, internet, satellite radio and media sensationalism
for a mere 1 in 5 to have heard of this,
and even then, only because of Family's accounts.
Apparently, he acted alone, wearing military-like clothes
and walked into LAX at about 9:20 AM PST on November 1
carrying a very cost-effective Military and Police AR-15
concealed in a bag with over a hundred spare .223 rounds
and a note with words of sociopolitical dissent
and an apparent intent to **** several Travel Security Agents.
He mortally wounded a single TSA agent, after two shots
and non-fatally wounded at least a few other people
including two other TSA agents.
This thorough chaos warranted sopping traffic, air and ground alike
for over two hours, until his apprehension
after being shot in the mouth and the leg
by valiant officers of the LAXPD.
Luckily, the Police had trained for
"this exact situation not three weeks before"
Wait, what was that?
Oh, that's.. impeccable timing.
Anyway.
Few know about it and even less discuss it
even a day and a half after it happened
only 550 miles from here.
I figured it'd be a bigger deal than this.
What is up with this?
It's rather srtange...
quite queer indeed.
The Suspect is in the hospital for his wounds and is now awaiting trial
for ****** and Inciting Violence in an International Airport.
Many people of Office cry out for the death penalty, even here in California,
where we like to think we've "grown past that"
The Travel Security Administration was established in the wake of 9/11
It is a branch of the Department of Defense.
It took me much digging to find all this information on this event. Here it is for any who seeks it.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
I'm gonna unfollow everyone whom i currently do, and begin the list again, so as to renew the chaos that is the influx of beautious word-art I so enjoy and revere, but so seldom have time to sift through and give the attention and mind that is warranted to each and every one created by all'a y'all wonderous souls.
if I neglect to re-add anyone, please do not take it personally! anyone who is ostensibly active enough on my posts will, for obvious reasons, be most likely to be put back on my stalking list.
I realize this might come off as a bit selfish or narcissistic, perhaps vain or something,
and it very well might be,
but I'm strangely okay with that.
If you have a bone to pick with that,
I beseech thee to consider the following:
what part of you wants it to be that way,
what that reduction allows you to justify,
and how that makes you feel.
Just some fast food for thought.
;)
much love to you all,
and blessings upon thy paths.
see you in the future!
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 8:20 AM UTC
I don't want to be black anymore
Strip me of my melanin
My natural curls
Take my lips
My hips
Remove the rhythm from my steps
I don't want to be black anymore
Because in this society that means fear
That means your death is warranted
no justice exist here
I don't want to be black anymore
Because that means my son
Or daughter
Is a victim of the world before us
Where thier deaths are seen as collateral
For the peace of all those lighter than them
I don't want to be black anymore
Because I am a walking target
Aim your gun at me
Because my life means nothing
I don't want to be black anymore
I was so proud of my ethnicity
But now my race only means one thing
Death
So no I don't want to be black anymore
Because I don't want to be scared of everything
I want society to love me
And I want my life to be worth something
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
Your tears are like champagne;
They cost more than you like to admit in polite company
And they're saved for the most special of occasions.
Every drop is to commemorate a monumentous event
(even if the event isn't immediately obvious to the rest of us).
When we were together I never got closer than hearing the bubbles fizz below the surface.
When we broke up you popped the cork and showered everything in sight with alcoholic nothingness.
My tears are like, well, water;
Not in that you need them to survive
But in that they are inescapable.
My fragility (or childishness) is evident in leaking taps
And dripping branches
And 80% of my biological make up.
When we were together you drank nothing but saltwater sadness.
shame, joy, surprise, every emotion warranted another glass of water.
When we broke up my tear ducts popped like two water balloons and nobody was surprised, they had already opened their umbrellas and taken a precautionary step back.
If they had stood a little closer, opened their mouths a little wider, they might have caught the fleeting taste of bitter wine and the closest I have ever come to crying champagne tears.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
To be honest
I don't want to leave
but on my door
the eviction notice
ruins my peace.
You have nothing worthwhile to show
any extension is warranted.
Instead of making good use
you dug up all the excuse
flawlessly lame
in shifting the blame
not giving a penny to the thought
you contributed to the rot
if only by thinking selfishly
the cause was outside you
and the remedy beyond you.
In another two days
I'm shifting to a new home
and you bet
I won't change my trait.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 9:55 AM UTC
Is it my imagination or is your rudeness warranted
I don’t believe I have a “use-n-throw” written on my heart
Cause if I remember you felt this connection distinct
Without words, without saying a thing.
Tell me how, then the connections reset.
Your words like knife cutting my rest.
Pesky and pushy I may be to your eyes
But I don’t think it was like this sometime back
You’d write to ask me why I was quiet
What’s happened now, why the fight?
A torn chapter I may seem in your book of life
But, for me it was more than that..
Its easy for you to break my heart
I can see that’s just your way to start
Fickle, is your love I can see
Because you didn’t have your way with me.
You see you couldn’t stand the test
I was right, to have bade the time.
For your true colors have now surfaced.
I was nothing but a game at best.
You didn’t succeed and so your wrath has now descended on me
"Ignore", is your best weapon against me.
Try as you might to cut me deep into two.
I will not respond as you want me to.
For my love was not fickle and not blithe
For I truly loved and love you and not on hindsight.
I did what I could do, never wanted to fool you.
Why should I tell you what is not true?
For I rather cut my heart out than feed you a lie.
You know this love was dead before it began.
I still did let my heart that fanciful flight
Hoping that you would understand my plight.
Now I can see, all too clearly.
I do not want to say it, but is shinning fiercely
Yet, I will never judge your attitude
For who am I, someone you never held close.
So adieu, adieu, may our paths never cross
I am leaving you with these words, my very last.
May God bless you my love…may you find your hearts desire
May you find what you are truly looking for
For in your happiness, I shall find my fire
Not a wicked word shall cross my lips
For you, forever…..
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
We...
..Say So, We Was blessed by the almighty with your gifting.
..Say So, We Was led incredibly as a football fraternity by your Kingship leadership skills.
..Say So, You Was a father, provider, protector, friend, brother and national hero to all.
..Say So, It Was joy to watch you fly Acrobatically like an Angel to catch, punch, stop, embrace spectacularly those ***** between the sticks.
..Say So, He Was one of the best Mother Africa ever shared with the world.
..Senzo Meyiwa, You are never gone but will live forever in our hearts and memories.
..Say So, You are one of a kind, the kind that gave more than it was expected, more than demanded, more than warranted.
Ohh Senzo Meyiwa, gone too soon, but like they say, "The Good Die Young!",
Thank you for sharing YOU with us, a part of YOU will forever live in us and rest in Peace Captain 'O My Captain!
24 September 1987 till 26 October 2014 - Senzo Robert Meyiwa.
Jamaleri© 31102014
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
I will wander
into wilderness
to find myself.
I will leave behind
my accoutrements,
memories of medals,
of past applause
and accolades,
accomplishments that
warranted degrees
and diplomas
portending future
successes. I like
who I am, who
I have become. No,
I love myself, and that
is my greatest achievement,
the acme most men
are blind to as they
mistake wealth for worth.
Most would say
I will be lonely,
but they are wrong,
because I will always be
with my best friend ever,
my real self. And I will
share my joy with
squirrels and rabbits
and deer, with bushes
and broken branches
and brush, with rills
and rivulets and rivers,
with rising and setting
suns and countless
stars coruscating in
night's sky. I will say
prayers to piles of pine
and sycamore limbs
that once were live,
but now make monuments
I worship. I am at one
with all I prize. My eyes,
even when they are closed,
see their beauty. I know
I will be blessed forever.
I lie on my bed, Earth,
and wait to join all
in solitude and grace.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 2:31 AM UTC
Trust is a tricky thing.
One person in your life can shake the ground you walk on forever without a second thought.
Your own anxieties bring insecurities that make you lose trust in people. It's not always their fault, but when those sneaking feelings end up being true, ******* it takes so much to come back from that.
Distrust and uncertainty seep into everything moving forward. You can't help but compare and see similarities. ***** the glaring and incredible differences, you will still find ways to not trust him. It's not fair to him, but you feel jaded like it doesn't matter anyway. Continue building those walls and slamming more bricks up there each and every time you have a concern, warranted or not.
You'll push everyone away because you will never be able to let go of those parts of yourself.
-t.s.
Feb 22, 2024
Feb 22, 2024 at 10:05 PM UTC
Anxiety is funny, if I’m going to be honest. Because you work so hard to not focus on whatever causes your anxiety that in the end, you’re really doing yourself a disservice. You end up focusing more on the anxiety- or it’s cause- that it’s counterproductive. And none of the tips you find online really help so you try to find your own methods, but let’s be honest. The only way it’s stops is if you have someone say “it’s okay”. And then you feel like you’re just annoying the person by having the same worries over and over and over again. So you, again, start trying to find your own methods. And again, you realize that it’s the outsider comfort that really helps. And then you start to feel helpless because you feel you’re becoming too dependent on the person, and you have no idea how long your anxiety is going to go on for.
And then, five minutes later, you calm down and think “what a silly thing to be worried about”. And that’s when you know you have a problem- because if it was something that warranted worry, it would start the cycle again.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
He had a love that lasted years
I have had nothing
Even remotely close
Only what is fleeting
Rough lips and selfish tongues
Greedy hands and reckless touch
The only love I have ever known
Left without warning
I have never known love to be forgiving
Or patient and kind
That kind of love
Is not one I am familar with
I am well aware
That he is not here to love me
He is here to worship this body
That most days,
Doesn't even feel like my own
Most days
My skin is a jacket
That stretches over fragile bone
I only wear it because I have to
Because this world pokes and prods with sharpness
And there are only so many times someone can break completely
These tattoos
Are just a shield for vulnerability
Piercings,
Nothing more than metaphor for puncture
There are so many wounds still awaiting healing
And although this body
Hasn't been fully occupied by its tenant in years
I will let him spend a night in it
Let him believe that it is nothing beyond ordinary
I will let him carve his name into the arch of my back
Fingernails to flesh
Palms to ribcage
And for one night
He will make believe love to me
We will make believe intimacy
Make believe that lust is something
That can only be felt more than just momentarily
We will pretend that our affection is warranted
And be unbound
In the morning
He will wash my name from his mouth
Swallow it entirely
And forget he ever tasted it
Tomorrow
He will wipe my DNA from his skin
Rinse off every last trace of my lips
And I will do the same
There is no reason
That I should be something he comes back to
There is no reason for me to draw myself indelible
When all I will ever be
Is a lone evening of desire
Nobody wants to get to know the girl
Who barely knows herself
Nobody will ever remember the girl
Who forgets who she is every time she gives herself away
This is a girl
Who calls herself woman
But still cries in the dark
And someone
Who knows love as well as he does
Will never want someone
Who doesn't even know
What love is
Someone like that
Is better suited
For one night.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
red light flashing on CNBC
hawkish fed and supply chain disruptions
an acid tongue analyst argues via zoom
black gold due to reach the sky
rotation warranted and ISM doomed
transitory or not
the fiery fall colors
are waiting to burst out,
outside, the windows of 30 W 63rd St.
this is where
her heart resides,
reverberating a song
titled ‘stone cold reality’
here,
unconditional love
speaks only the truth,
while the rest
wax eloquent euphemisms.
diligently probing charts of 10-year bonds,
i see her chiseled face with glasses and all,
in the web of shadows
whispering
one and one name alone!
© 2021
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 11:18 AM UTC