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
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
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
your sweet song
beckons me closer;
listen to me,
don’t waste a hand on that clock
put your hands up
than down like a prayer
and rip the skin off my flesh,
carve me like the thirty first
dress me up as your favorite dream
sing that song that keeps my ears star born,
don’t stop
call my name
lay on your creation
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.
between us and
her
just a little space
we can feel it
all
our bodies and yours
we can hear your heart beatin’
through us
nothin’ but star dust
paint on a brush
our universe
make a mold of your hand
on ours
little love can
go real
far.
the bottom wasn’t the bottom
it never existed
it was just home,
the golden fish would tell stories
of a land bathed in light
kissed by soft air-
we huddled around her stories
of fulfilment and life,
we prayed to poseidon
to bring us;
bring us to the land of the free,
where goldy stayed-
away from the bottom.
the next day she was gone,
the we shuffled to an i
in silence.
i’ve written this a thousand times
told you in a hundred ways
will remember you for ten lives
and love you entierly in this one-
i worry the metaphor will fail you
be lost in a bee hive as i’m covered in honey
rip my chest open with your pooh like claws
and never leave this cave,
Saint's Muse 