Writing, Ideas, & Stories
the boy eats porridge
every morning
never deviates or wanders
never wonders about lucky charms
what is lucky charms doing tonight
who are they with
do they think about me
do they like almond milk or 2%.
never about orange juice
never letting guard down for apples
or other straggle fruits
almond milk or 2%
just porridge,
that’s good enough
just a small store
nothing flashy
just enough to get by
selling fruit and a song.
wrote it for you
over a pear
i remember the first couple games
you were just an ordinary man
ball in the hoop day in night out
than you turned into a legend
eight to twenty four an all star was born
five rings later a legend
four kids later a man
crash later a god.
i can trace my love of sports to you
the evolution of competition
battle through it
come out a little stronger
the mamba mentality
never quit.
RIP,
jacket weather
never leave the house jacket weather
lover.
that’s the type
friday the first we woke on a boat that’s the type of
lover.
just me and these goggles
can’t imagine missin’ these days
pjs an waffles
won’t put down the bottle
won’t get outta bed till noon
lets not leave this room
chill on this bed
an stay awhile
cuz damn this breakfast is good
kick back an pull up my hood
kick back an
dream
the elevator in your intuition
hasn’t settled on a level
floor by floor
juggling balance and sanity.
buttons on all floors
mashed in
flashed in
fire escape button hit
in a corner
waiting
fighting away
the urge to fight
just take a flight
find a home
made out of bricks
read about the licks
you missed
in a boat sailing away;
far away
that ain’t very fair
they made you mayor
now they call you traitor
blow your brains out with a lazer
and that wouldn’t phase her
found her drawn in crayons so i traced her
just so i can taste her
later
drawing blood to test
if this dimension
is habitable,
when did this glass
become so
life like.
now it is just right
the walls caved in
glass shot
a tunnel of hiss
flying box
house of balloons
do you remember
when the walls went up,
the security, the safety, knowing no one will ever
get in,
until one archer
with a single arrow
sinks the wall like a rowboat
whistle and a walk
you’ll lead the way
will follow;
protector of man-
the earth below her feet; she worships
the ones you will not meet; she notice
electric fingers twirls the air like string
earth given powers, meant as a sign
to bring forth the daily wonder
we walk on without regard;
her gentle roars keeps the power safe,
fangs bear the wicked and worsen-
a tiger guardian, a lightworker.
today; she works as a electrician
bringing light
to those ready.
Saint's Muse 