7/15/09




She uses words that make men purple and blue inside,
and hides behind the criticism that she wields like a loose dagger…
and the fact that he still loves her makes him sadder and sadder…
like what is the use for such an unreliable emotion…
what is the point of loving amongst the pushing, shoving, and eyes cutting…
what’s the point of reaching or believing the nice only to end up on the floor retrieving
the pieces of broken self she’s left…
how many times does one have to be taken on the same ride before he know what comes next…
The End.
You made me Love you

You made me love you...
I didn't want to do it,
but now I'm in it
and you did it...
made me want you
next to me...
my desire vexed me
and now I can't shake it!
Can't take it,
or take it back.
I let down my guard
thinking that you'd pick up the slack,
imagine that...
reciprocity.
You made me love you
despite of how you felt for me
and I didn't want to, really.
I thought it would be silly
just wanted you to feel me
and you did..
but at the same time you hid
you tucked away all affinity...
we fucked away the possibility
of actually having something rea.l
You made me want to tell you
how I feel.
Now deal, 'cause you made me love you,
and I knew I shouldn't do it,
but screw it...
I love you

Stolen Segments of Empty Space




I'm counting the seconds until I can see you again
and as seconds become minutes
and minutes hours a nervous
anticipation is building in my stomach
what will I say
For everyone knows that one
can't be too honest
with his feelings for another
It's the "ego clause" in The Handbook of Life and Love
I fear that even this poem is slightly inappropriate,
yet I continue to humiliate myself with humble phrases
and projections for a future
that may have ended last night
though I continue to write
so that I may stop
counting stolen segments
of empty space
Ajar

4/29/09

Munching for newness...


Marijuana taught me how to share.
Lots of give and take in there, in the space
where creative minds burn it down.

Blazing in circles from right to left
we wear our smoke crown and clown as we burn down...
Slanted social structures that are ground bound anyways,
I’ve spent many days, deconstructing what was for more diverse
ways to repair,

and there’s never been a better way to clear the air.

We take the suffering and the despair and roll it tightly into a Dutch...
For it was there that that we became the masters of our own destinies,
In that smoke I saw clearly what Bootsie was feeling when he sang about them munchies.
And it may sound funny, but weed broadened my horizons has me wondering how
It would be to chief in different countries, and helped me to understand
The bull shit in front of me, and what its owners might want from me.
Things I would normally stress if I didn’t have the munchies for new, experiences
That I could chew, and pass around this sypher so my peeps could feast too.

Adulterer's Alibi




You said...I said...he/she/it did...
something different...
not better or worse...
just good...
knew how to work it...
knew just what to do...
knew me...
spoke not a word of you,
or what we did.
And, when in the morning with a stranger
I lay,
I fell no remorse.
No I love you's or Call me's
just lying still...
independent breaths we take.

You said...I said...he/she/it says nothing...
as we hide from darkness and create...
we create...
You and I, we don't create anything now...
except tension in shoulders and backs,
that someone has to work out...
we create smooth spots then destroy them...
we defy rhythm...
we say goodbye...
You say "hello"
I say "hello"
and we just sit...
and sit...
and sit...
What's going on?
You said...I said...he/she/it never says forever...
never says I love you...
and never promises tomorrow...
it'll be different....
tomorrow..
I'll change
tomorrow...
we can start over again...
Ready?
Get set!
Go!

Click to view "A Poem for Donny"

Death to Me Poets




You got to love poetry
The permission to freely speak
into reality
How dope you want to be

Pimpin metaphors like whores,
for plights that are merely yours
cause that don't extend outside of yourself

Big heads crash through the clouds like stealth
fighter jets.
cause they blow up sets, and pity the poet that’s next.
because I put it down...and clowned all over them fools
cause I puts it down and they can't teach this schools
but if they did it would be called "fresh-ology"
and the author of the curriculum would be me cause there's
none better with this poetry
(laughing)

Excuse Me

But this shit is funny,
The truth is that "Me Poets" give me a headache
and it used to cause heartache
but I don't care anymore
and I'm not there anymore lending ears to those who don't need them
attempting to plant seeds with words for food...
see I don't care anymore to feed them
with ideas of better worlds
cause now poetry is just a tool for getting girls
or landing a deal
I remember when you would turn to the poet for the real
but now poets carry reels and footage to show how good they are
Cause he want be a star some day
and maybe someday he will
and hopefully someday he will
see the error of his ways and return to the essence,
but I'm not holding my breath
I'm holding my hands in my lap
see I won't snap or clap for that crap
and I next time I hear a poem that starts off with "I am So..."
I'll tell my friends that I'll be back...and go to the bar...or to the restroom
or maybe I'll just leave...or maybe I'll do this poem...
Because though I love poetry,
there's nothing worst than a Me Poet