Writing, Ideas, & Stories
beat is kicking
your hands are jumping
around my throat
like a choker-
side to side
fingers grinding under my earlobe
“do you wanna get out of here”
i dont remember
where here was
beat is kicking
your hands are jumping
around my coat
miles ahead
side to sife
fingers in my hair
“lets get a slice of pizza”
that
is a great idea
we took the elevator to the top floor
sunny day, we came to play, in my arms till we’re all gray.
wondering how we got this high
in the middle of july
you beautiful monarch butterfly-
and than you were gone.
flew away too a city not far away.
i can’t cross that border
elevator out of order;
floor 99 these stairs are loud
95 the people form a crowd
92 i can’t remember how i got here
84 maybe i should just disappear
why the fuck is the elevator out of order
is this my disorder?
62 i wonder if the people that wrote Dexter realized it was bad
58 mj’s greatest hits and we start bad
i can hear the rain outside
droplets searing like cyanide
44 chest beating like a drum
than why do i feel so numb.
52 i can hear the sound of your voice
pretend that my words are from joyce
sit around sing clap an rejoice
66 here is good- i like here,
safe from the rain and the sun
nothing can touch me today
just the eye of a seer
when all is said and done
i don’t want to block the walkway
i need you
like the flower needs the sun
when it’s all said and done
as i wilt away
in trenches of rain
my last thoughts will be of you
days spent in shine
my final quest;
paid twice the fee
parked in the front
lights beaming in the night
front row:
stars feral and hungry
frothing at tasty planets like a buffet
lined up, ladle like soup
never enough always back for more
take a tour have a map- tour of war
a petting zoo of history
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
the experience breaks fear-
found the experience at the tip of a card
now knives break against my skin
folding full houses and straights down the drain
but my knees still shake in the rain
quivering at the memories
traded for guilt
measured in nightmares,
at the tip of the card was a jack,
and now inside this club
try to scrub this sleep clean
before the fear breaks loose
i fell for you
actually
still falling no bottom in sight
i am falling for you
a marathon that gets better and better
a show that is renewed every year
it gets better and better no filler
i record every episode
i like to watch them on my free time
or when i’m not free
and you’ll take me captive
i’ll wake up in my own bed
and i’ll put on reruns
i am always on the next,
the next piece the next goal the next quest
it’s not that the roses aren’t beautiful but i don’t want to waste that second;
not chasing this dream,
a dream of sharing
this art,
a dream of waking up next to you every morning,
sharing eggs and toast
and if a rose bud cuts my finger on a tour of success
and i miss a single second with you-
sharing this art, sharing these eggs, sharing this bed-
i’ll burn every single of them down
never put much stock in the market
wanted to
be the standout price or waited for one to find me
silly or asleep
being to bee but always the worker never the queen
crying fiend
two types and always the catcher catching when you fall
standing tall
call when you say you miss me always nearby you make me wanna
be a good guy
when you say i love you i know the time is right now
here somehow
markets closed now lesson learned when asked when
now and then
time and again the one will find you and never a minute ahead
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.
Saint's Muse 