My eyelids paint a different shade of paradise each morning.
Forced to make a mural of the world I was born in.
Your barren brown and battered blue,
Are only beautiful to those you matter to.
The clouds, in their grey suits, had promised you greener pastures.
We could've taken better care of you, if only you'd asked us.
You're inanimate by definition,
To me you're the only thing truly living.
We're sorry for trashing the house as if it was our own.
We'll clean it up before dad comes home.
All this destruction is something I can do without.
Sorry mom, I'm moving out.
New planet anyone?
Morning settles on the dew.
Mirages of you, settle in my view.
While the sky settles with its hue.
I settle thoughts of settling with you.
I wouldn't mind settling for this.
Except, humming birds never settle in their nests.
East is what you know best
But It's always warmer in the west.
When the sky changes its hue it changes with you.
Looks can be deceiving but changes are true.
When the night comes, You come apart.
When the snow becomes dark, So does your heart.
The birds in the east never really gave you an option.
'No' only meant proceed
I find myself
All too often
To your many contortions
You'd bend over in every way for me, anytime.
What a short forever that was.
Learning to accept that humming birds never settle in their nests.
Learning that when the dew falls, it's only for the best.
Learning to live without the air that is you baby.
You were so hot last night, it turned you into dew baby
Drawn to your canvas shoes and charcoal skin.
The temperate colors you were painted in.
2:45 and I'm mooning over your pure hue wondering,
Why you haven't squeezed out of that tubular life I found you in.
Watercolor tears emulsified by inert years,
Wash away the impressionism you pressed over your fears.
3:45 and I'm looking for a place in the sun to dry my freshly painted sin.
I guess it's safe to say, these tubular lives, we're bound by them.
Die every night.
Live every day.
Cease and become.
If you are truly living.
If you are living truly.
I wish death upon you.
Be you. A different one everyday.
Reality hanging by a thread.
Coke cans and cannons by my bed.
Show girls shooting up to the head.
Solace for the strong, seizures for the dead.
Pac in the boombox
If the packs don't boom I hope the boom pops.
If the boom don't pop she got a new pops.
Red lips serving blows up on the new blocks.
Humble pie in my abode in a bid to abide.
But the coke on the stove says the law is a lie.
Caught slipping, no snitching so my name shall survive.
Out in 10, when I return
Throw some paper to the sky, let the wind and caution colide.
I'll need a long island on the rocks.
Escape the piles we turn to rocks.
We held their lives within our glocks.
The doors were locked so we turned to the knocks.
Boys in the hood with the little coke babies.
Girls in the hood holding little hope babies.
Daddy never came but we live in hope baby.
All I had were bricks, had to build a home baby.
When Sophistication and Ignorance meet. Sparks fly.
I wrote this purely on impulse. I just woke up and started typing. Then I stopped, Listened to Kendrick's Section80, watched Al Pachino's Scarface and got back to it.
If you don't understand it you shouldn't. The echelons play a vital part in life, know yours.
What's current is a stream
As the water falls so do the years.
The trickling time plays tricks.
That it never played when we were kids.
Money was useless on the river banks.
The **** water was rich in memories.
When we were water babies.
When the skies filled with tears we would wash away our fears.
Running in the rain we were only running from our pain.
We forgot about the ifs and maybes.
We were water babies.
All the waves and the smiles.
They were ****** into viols.
We had to spare them for the weekends "you're now a school child" We once.
Were water babies
So the tide raged on and so did our teenage hormones. For 'the thirst' can i get some...
Just an analogy of life and how we lost the plot when we decided to "grow up"... The structure of the poem is testament to the fact that life gets shorter (the stanzas decrease in length as the poem progresses). The aquatic theme is borrowed from someone I deeply care about, she who is as pure as water itself. Okay okay enough explaining. Bleh :')
I'll let you figure out the rest for yourself. Enjoy
May the last breath I draw
Be a masterpiece.
A restless sea of thought
Is trailing after me
Paint vivid waves of shore
Before the tidal cease
Inclined to the moons allure
I write for peace
The sea of life is rife
The rifle is loaded
I have fought my fight
Thankful to have known it