i worry i’ve
made every wrong choice
in a world with no take backs
i don’t want one
just a receipt
for my wall of fame
Author: SamT.Gutierrez
My name is Sam and I love art.
I sometimes do podcast, I sometimes stream videogames.
brunch
a cheese danish:
all the walls with the same wallpaper
found probably a walmart just like the paint
built in the 70’s, an older building on a newer street
a record among headphones
word processor among laptops
a cheese danish among iced coffee;
an older soul; at this foam party
more cardigans then sentences
yeah, i counted,
counted all the stars on the wall
the phones in hands
waiting;
waiting for tomorrow to wipe away this old building
these old records
but not this cheese danish;
i am gonna eat this
two person show;
i love talking to you;
somedays it is a ball of laughter
snowballing down an avalanche sized memory.
the next will be at each others throat
the next time we see each other
be at each others throat.
the next will be asleep in each others arms
loving and dining taking turns
learning and performing
for the days to come
good ol’ days
i changed the channel with my mind
i remember when instagram was only food
these seemed liked the hay days
not challenged working through a maze
but here we are;
i went with that 70s show,
when i changed the channel with my mind,
they portray a similar time
everyday was the good ol days
they never strayed far
and always had a good time;
i usually went with a burger,
for instagrm,
reminded me of home
on a warm summer day
in a turtle shaped pool
sometimes;
i have dreams
sometimes there simple
like tacos at that place down the street
on everything, they bomb.
don’t let it be a tuesday
ill transform into the road runner
and meet meet you there.
most of the times
i think about changing the world;
sometimes small,
like opening chick fil la on Sunday,
i’m sure i could start a political campaign off that one
most of the times,
i want to create something that enhances the mind
that makes others want to create
something the next kid can love
and grow up to rinse and repeat.
sometimes; i’m spiderman
but usually i’m me;
writing at a desk
with a half read book
playing digital chess
and a half eaten sandwich
rocks and stars
i wonder why you wait;
on hands and knees
for the rocks to shift into stars
once the star has fallen, it’ll never glow
rise, it might shine for a day
roll around in the mud
but return.
oh baby you’re the star everyone wants
but no one can be
glowing steadily
wishing for a god
to bring your star back
she’ll listen
but not even she
can bring back what has fallen
honey flavor
it is a need
without second guessing or thinking
hands lay in yours
head in your lap
everything on the table
no where to hide
all on the line-
vulnerable;
in the eye of a lion,
weak and exposed,
in the eye of you
i found something new-
safety in fear
fear that this is a dream
a dream i never want to wake from
rating and reason
to hate;
i hate that i see it through these lens
with a rating and reason
never a smile and love.
bashing ripping tearing
screaming what do you mean
down a shallow hall
sending it back like a fastball.
instead of putting up your feet
having a beer
watching the game
laughing,
prison built of habits
guards wearing suits of routine
leaving the building on a scholarship of toxic purpose;
the one who judges
master of soup tasting
questionable ruler
wish and washo
asking for a prayer
gifted and quit it.
begging for the night
got the winter
the morning
the winter.
wore the crown
left your book
crown weighed a ton
ending the feud
ending the cycle
tour of france.
bubbles in this bitch;
rising tides higer bars loving times
they could never beat you;
they rubbed sand in your eyes
and you blinked in there face
bitch-
they can’t keep you down
your standards let them know that they are all clowns
probably should have inserted another noun
but it is what it is
the money makin’ ms
when you take the pop quiz
all the answers are b for back that shit up
i’m about to blowup
take a picture beacuse your makeup
could never look this good buttercup
blow bubbles on them babe
hit them with your cape
they are all just lesser apes
that gave up on their dreams.
i feel bad for them.
Saint's Muse 