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If I were your GodIf I were your God, I would make it rain
Vodka, so you’d be so drunk off life
That you’ll begin to realize that the only
Way to be saved is to save yourself.
I would switch Bible and Qurans,
Qurans and Torahs, So when you
Open them up in your hotel rooms,
You’ll realize words in a different language
Can be just as beautiful. I would
Give you broken wings. You’ll never
Be able to fly with them, but you’d start to see
That your purpose isn’t to fly in the sky,
You’re place is here, it’s now.
StoryI know you have a story hidden
In your chest but you’re
Afraid to wear it on your sleeves
For everyone to see. No need
To worry – I’ve seen scarred arms,
I’ve known people who let their
Demons take over their hearts.
Your story is just as valid as
Mine; even if it’s just a fairytale.
BannedMy mind is a library
Lined with banned books.
I've been copying them down
In fear that someone
Will Burn them down.
NostalgiaI use to recite the alphabet every day.
I would start at A, but always stop at U,
Then look out at the porch and
Paint her portraits of herself
Made out of words. Colors always ended up
Outside the lines and shapes blurred with tears.
But it never mattered.
These paintings became a gallery
Documenting life in a chronological
Fashion, so when I look back, I could playback
These moments of innocence like movies.
I still find myself reciting the alphabet,
But I’ve moved on to V.
I started coloring inside the lines.
I can see vividly now…. I can see
HeartbeatI’ve twisted my skin
Like clay, to match
‘cause I can’t lie and say
“I don’t want to fuck you.”
Lately, every night
I’ve been feeling
A different heatbeat.
But her heart beats with
A different rhythm
Every time she opens herself up.
And every time she’s around
It’s like light kissing my eyes.
And I realize that,
Even with a pounding headache
And bottles, now only filled with
Sorrow lying by the bedroom floor,
I want to make breakfast together,
I want to mark down days on the
Calendar, I want to…nevermind.
It was probably just the shitty wine.
I Know A PlaceI know a place
That no one walks
Beyond the burning bridges.
From Shackles through rooftops – I know
A place no one walks
With crimson churches
And vacant houses; now blackened.
UntitledHe’s looking for a WOMAN – He says,
The previous was lacking, too unpredictable.
He wants the curves of a Sine function without
The head to comprehend it, I suppose.
A soulless monument that he could squeeze
His own into for his own enjoyment.
She told me, she’s looking for a MAN,
With arms of steel that can shoot
To the heavens; with a body like shields
That could protect her from
The cruel titans of the world.
In the corner of the room,
There’s a person resting
In Solidarity – silently waiting
That never showed up.
I Hear America Singing...It's Out Of TuneI, too, have heard America singing,
And I have to say,
It’s not nearly as enjoyable as you make it out to be.
Hearing the country sing is worse than
Watching the first rounds of American idol
But you wouldn’t know anything about that,
Now would you?
The following is a list of complaints
I have of this country’s vocal ensemble:
The sound of carols
Is covered by the businessmen
Who falls flat every time they try
To pick themselves up again.
I’ve seen them drop dead
Like Trees in a forest –
And in case you’re wondering
No, they don’t make a sound.
I can still hear the strained notes
Of slaves when they grew this country out of the soil
Echoing from the past
And for you to not be able to hear it
Leads me to question your hearing ability.
I’ve heard soldiers sing anthems
To keep enemies awake as
A torturing mechanism
As they march towards the east.
I’ve seen teacher’s
Sing in a monotonous
Fashion to their students
AcceptanceI was never born
to be cookie cutter,
I was always the brownie baker,
turning the oven up to 451 degrees Fahrenheit
with a dagger in one hand and a bar of gold in the other
flicking specks of the metal
into my words and watching the town below
blossom into what we call a generation.
Always birthing phrases and dialects about
understanding and acceptance
but never being understood or accepted myself.
"How can that be?" Schrodinger will ask.
I am unwilling to open Pandora's box,
so I guess we will never know.
Simply SmileTo make a person happy
Sometimes may require effort
Other times it can be simple
Being there for a disheartened soul
Consoling them through their grief
One does not need to strive far
To achieve what they want
In purifying a lost cause
You could even say
A act of smiling is all it takes
Making a person know you care about them
Realizing that they aren't alone in the world
They mean some significance to a human
And you could make the earth a better place
For many people
When they need a friend most
Pinkthe boys gestured and jeered
‘what’d you do to your hair?’
‘boys won’t like you now.’
she turned away, smiling all the while
head shaved and pink scarf in place
‘because it’s too hot’
‘I want a fresh start’
‘I never liked my long hair anyways’
but at home she cries
though the tears won’t fall
because it was shave
or watch it fall out
no one comments on the lost weight
or the bags gathering under her eyes
for she hides it with pink clothes and makeup
chemo starts she throws up in school
the teachers send her home, but her parents send her back
normal is a luxury they can’t afford to lose
pink ribbons on cars
the color a badge she earns
blinds her delicate eyes
pink roses on her grave
for when she lost the battle
but never gave up on the war
What Else Is There To Say?What would you say
If I told you "I love you"?
As the words dangle around
And dance between us
I am looking at you
Noticing your eyes gazing at me
All I want, is to know what's going on
In that mind of yours
I'm tired of being alone
Aren't you too?
This world we live in, is falling apart
And I just want to be with you
When it crumbles
I see you reading this
What's the wait
An answer is all I desire
It's all I have ever wanted
This is all an "if"
How would I even gain the strength
To converse with someone like you
I don't want to be lonesome
But the iron maiden of cowardliness could be my demise
Close in on this soul and pierce it with guilt and regret
It's a double edged sword
To say I love you
Conquering the demons holding me back from showing you my adoration
Then watch as judgement day arrives from your mouth
I wonder if I could ever say these three simple words to your face
The Love Story You Gave MeI, We kissed
Your lips tasted like heaven
But you left traces of
Down my throat.
II, We loved
When our skin brushed
the wound on my thigh somehow rooted into buttresses of your veins
It poisoned your heart and
robbed your breath away.
III, I left
That night when your eyes burnt in liquor wildfire
I could smell her perfume on our bed
Your lips tasted like vanilla
And my tears tasted like bitter blizzard.
The Love Story You Gave Me
1. NumbersSometimes I wonder when I first let numbers define me -
Was it when I turned 10, marvelling at how my age was now
more than one digit, how the candles on my cake were
crowded and threatening to tumble under the weight of
all those years, all that wisdom, all that promise.
Maybe it was when we had to line up in height order
for school photos, hands prodding each other’s foreheads,
measuring ourselves by other people’s standards;
and all I wanted was to be in the back row
with the tallest boys, because I thought
that maybe those extra inches allowed them to see
a whole different planisphere to me,
some secret that I wasn’t allowed to know.
Curiosity drove me wild, made me hang upside down for hours
hoping for my taut skin to drip and stretch
like the melting candles spilling across my birthday cake;
made me select the highest school shoes despite my mother’s
sighs about the blisters that were already bubbling around my heels,
whispering that eternal phrase
At Sixteen... Ben turned fifty the day he met his birth mother. Her visit wasn't a gift, and there could be no return or exchange. Nancy was now sixty-six. Ben had done the math. In 1964 America, his mother was likely ostracized.
"I can't tell you who your father is, and don't pry further," was all Nancy would say about Ben's paternal descent. They had met in a coffee house near where Ben lived. His mother clearly had little interest in her son’s life. "It's cold in Minneapolis," she said after a silence.
"There are winter activities in the area, mother. I love snow. What do you do for enjoyment in Florida?"
"I suppose you think I play shuffleboard all day and bingo evenings like every other retiree," Nancy said. Ben didn’t know his mother was retired, or what she’d done for work. Minutes after meeting her, he didn't care. But he had to try.
"Mother, I have no idea what your life is like, why don't you tell me? I
Life's Secret“I have a secret to tell,” Life said to me.
“It’s something I shouldn’t have kept; I’m so sorry.
Although you went through the worst prematurely,
I still couldn’t have said something; I’m so sorry.
And I know a simple apology is just said unfairly.
It won’t do you any good now, so I’ll spill my secret clearly —
I am good. I am good, sincerely.
I may be tough, but I am no killer, only merely
A simple soul walking your earth in your shoes yearly.
I know the agony you have endured, and I know you plea
Day in and day out, your voice practically reaching over the sea.
I am good. I am good, sincerely.
The negatives will always be here if you let them; you need positivity.
This may sound like a contradiction, but don’t erase the negativity,
Simply turn it into a beloved memory, a happy time; it can be tricky.
So, keep in the mind this secret; don’t let it conquer you, promise me?”
Life is good.
Life is gre
Silent by the GraveSilent, a hundred people are.
Solemnly over a hundred graves they stand.
Not a single word is uttered, heads bowed,
respects already paid.
Slowly, a hundred coffins descend.
Rain compensating for unshed tears.
Thunder replaces unheard cries,
roaring in denial and rage.
Deafening, a hundred souls are.
Six feet deep, their bodies laid to rest.
Silent crying they will remain.
Forever grieving they will stay.
Welcome To The InternetSet our sights for the constellations?
Nah, we brought this track from different dimension.
While you’re still look for the towers of Babylon.
We’re moving onwards. Haven’t you heard?
This is what the internet sounds like
So login and tell all your friends.
Hard to believe data’s only a click away
And yet we got to start writing its serenade.
They always told me to live in the moment,
Busy living in just about every timezone.
Always a step ahead from these other kids,
They all center me like Saturn’s rings.
Take a pic, wow…instant hit.
All our heads are saturated.
Made easy for these billionaires
Ha. Welcome to the internet.
Keep in Touch!