Poetry · Writing

do not enter – double a batteries

i know i have been in your thoughts

i woke up and my legs were shaking

roaming corridors i once lived finding myself a tourist

a map with rooms crossed out and a new name written

on brown tape-

renting or buying

a night affair or a lifetime package

why was i brought to witness;

a chance to outbid

or walk down a memory lane with caution tape

boarding off every entrance,

the tape was my doing

but the exhibits were made to last

and i wonder

how many double a batteries

it would take

Poetry · Writing

winter is here.

lost in a graveyard

found six feet under

it was never meant to end this way

or maybe it was

maybe i choose to ignore the signs on the road

the endless yelling of choosing poorly

but right now was meant for the hollow

a cross of a god that was never my god

a cross for the forsaken or the loved

holds the seal tight

i would challenge him but

he is a god so that seems dumb-

against his wishes i will rise;

turn my hands into shovels and rise

the bottom could never hold a spirit like mine

a heart with everything still to give

stories left to be told

work still to be done

and

the last season of game of thrones

still to be watched

Poetry · Writing

yield sign re(move)d

we are worth more then one chance

i usually deploy a weak baseball rule

three strikes

but weak because i can never call anyone out

even when they deserve it-

 

bad shit comes in threes(bleed)

should have been a breeze(beast)

fucked around caught your disease(21)

 

you have been out for years

kept you around against my wishes

missed the days when it was simple

dimples and smiles got you in the door

war followed and never stopped-

Poetry · Writing

yesterday’s grave;

it is in our dna

like a skeleton in our closet-

we were made through violence

the quake in my clench fist

was the same in my past life;

it is not what i am here for

to lay down the sword and wield a shield like cap

i will use words to diffuse

this fuse and the only bomb that will drop

are f bombs to clear the fucking rubble

history only outlines today

but will still build an empire

an euphoria haven of shields

cutting fields of old patterns

burying violence in a grave marked yesterday

Poetry · Writing

Perfecto

“The life you live is more important than the words you speak.”

-Mac

 

Chasin’ perfect and on the surface

I look so fine but really I’m

been runnin’ round missin’ makin’ somethin’ out of nothin’

 

catch twenty one- first time

I caught time it was fine until the lines

broken the goldmine. Please- stay a minute

will leave these spacesuits and fall back down

before you give me the boot. Curing clocks

just a gearbox we made to give a day meaning

just the same repeating all on coarse-

crash landing right on schedule to wake me from this faithful dream-

perfect.

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.