Poetry · Writing

Bad Bitch

The resolution I hate the most:

“I’m going to stop putting up with bullshit-

because I’m a bad bitch and I’m leaving you behind.”

What you left behind was your emphaty

to walk behind someone in a line

to see from their glasses

to sleep in their bed and know how soft their pillow is,

now you’re just a bitch.

 

Poetry · Writing

Can Opener

One problem I had

was I couldn’t use a can opener;

so I said fuck this I’m done.

Imagine if that short fuse was with my love-

one cut and your out

the slash you left was too deep so find the front door and don’t lose ya feet.

I think I should give the can opener another chance;

what do you think?

on one hand I miss kidney beans

the other

I don’t know pain.

Poetry · Writing

Best Day Ever

I never took a day off

work around the clock never stop never falloff.

I never said goodbye to Trevor

left in a hurry always a new endeavor

a brother and I’ll miss the way you said whatever

whoever whenever this life wasn’t forever but wherever you are

you’re here with me like Common will let it Be

a Seven and a dream we made one hell of a team.

No matter where life takes me, find me with a smile

pursuit to be happy, only laughing like a child.

I never told Malcolm what he meant to me

through depression living life under suppression

now making progression through self-expression

and this is my confession that you walked me through

and when it’s my time I wrote this for you

you on the drums and I’ll be on the keys

a jam session no questions.

Now I know the difference between the ground and the floor

if we got to fight, I’ll be down for the war

thumbs up-

Thanks to you, I never turned by back on love

like a fool thought I was cool but you’re such a jewel

and I never thought life would get this sweet

it got me cheesin’ from cheek to cheek

weak in my knees at ease antifreeze

and I ain’t going to wait for nothing

cause that just ain’t my style

it’s you when I smile

watching you walk down the aisle

life couldn’t get better

this gon’ be the best day ever.

 

 

 

Thank you to anyone who read, liked and left a comment on anything I posted this year or ever. I appreciate you, happy new year.

 

~Sam T. G.

Poetry · Writing

Angel of Two Fruits – Stainless Steel

I carry you with me everyday.

Find you in between the lines of each poem

in the songs I write and a god will smite

if I ever do wrong.

before me walks an angel

an angel of two fruits

and one bite, I was hers-

the sour outer to ward away the weak

until the sweet middle hold my tongue unable to speak.

Walking alone to the store

her shadow will hold my hand

and all the noise

with her the heart feels slow

a necklace of turbulence

a ring of the past

shoes of yesterdays choices

all these accessories

you’re the chain that never breaks

stainless steel one hell of a meal

and one day they’ll take a picture of me down on one knee.

Weightless around my neck

never in anything Aztec

sheltered from the storm, low-tech

rising above the rift and diving on the raft, high-tech

never taking a day off- never needing a rain check

the one and only, cashing in that pay-check.

Poetry · Writing

3rd Degree – Tom Ford Suit

I sat in the shower longer this morning

to wash off yesterday

the burn marks on my skin remain

but under the water-

it’s invisible.

Walk through the park

stop at the deli

read a book on the train

they would never stop me and ask how I got these marks

they can’t see them.

I spend hours scrubbing-

the picture of being perfect signed into my mind like a branding

the perfect being doesn’t show these weaknesses

they don’t have burn marks.

I don’t roll up my sleeves

wear shorts in the summer time

laying on the beach, in a Tom Ford suit.

Poetry · Writing

Sixteen Fears

I asked my buddy once

what he does to calm himself down.

He is an angry guy and he doesn’t get into fist fights

that I know of

so he must have a trick.

He told me he counts

s l o w l y

lowers his heart beat before he Hulks out.

After publicly laughing

and secretly taking notes

I tried it at home;

One, number of episodes I’ve seen of Ferrigno’s Hulk.

Two, number of times I had to convince myself that I’m not losing it before actually giving this a chance.

Three, pick up sticks.

Four, the number of times I thought about calling the love of my life and not doing it because I don’t want to be a bother.

Nine, worries I’ve given before reminding myself that she loves me and I need to escape the narrowing halls of my own mind.

Sixteen,

Eighteen, the year I decided to burn the world down from a water tower.

Twenty-two, the damn Taylor Swift song that will probably test time.

Sixty-nine,

Eighty-three, letters it takes for me to confess that I don’t want to roam this earth without you by my side.

One hundred and forty-three, It’ll be okay, as long as you know that you’re worth it and won’t give in to every single hick up even though your mortal self can’t help it.

Here, I learn he doesn’t deal with anger,

it’s the way to talk out his own insecurities.

Mine showed their tattooed faces at the first sign of a rain drop

no forecast of showers

towers blocking the sun

gun cocked to my own forehead

dread as I lower my own arm;

One hundred and forty-four, one day these worries will mute, the button is jammed in the remote but it’ll pop out, just have to keep counting.

Poetry · Writing

My Hero

Flipping channels

through all these different success stories

a chance to make a life

to be someones

either through blood

or opportunity.

Them being their, doesn’t mean they’re the best

waiting for the next great to pick up that shield

a Captain is always on the way.

I watch, knowing someone who sings better

paints better

and at the age of four

I learned that people are not born equal

death is a guarantee

and failure is a privilege,

not all of us see the stars.

So will flip channels

pretend that these people never scaled that mountain

and reached

even for a second

to be someones hero;

even if they can’t see the same stairs

or know how to walk

those heroes reach an arm out

lend an ear see the sea smell the breeze

they’ll be there for tough times

sing their song

end their show

with us in our living room

thank you

 

 

but I’ll be their one day

with all my might.

Poetry · Writing

Dinner Time

Since you came

I haven’t needed another-

closed all the shops in my heart

no more tourist- a lonley lurker looking for their old room;

just a mansion

for you.

Candles and sweets

I never want you to leave

I’ve never felt so full:

full on filling conversations

dining on our connection

resting on our full bellies-

looking up at our ceiling

counting the wrinkles on our palms,

your hands are so soft I fall asleep in this dream.

I wake to your voice

sleep to it

and crave it like the next meal.