You’d prefer this, hot source
that I spoke unnecessarily
to have no meaning to what said
without anything to consider
You’d still consider my gossip.
Tag: Poetry
We Have Not Seen Ourselves In this Light
Turn off the lights
because it’s ugly
looking at you this way
where anger trumps everything
it is so a situational, life that is
a chemical reaction to a set of dynamics:
where opposites collide and nobody is listening
it is seen through the regretted mess
broken bright bulbs
pieces of the argument that made sense.
Yes we have failed so gloriously
if only we can talk to each other without weaponry
then those words of I love you wouldn’t be so conditional.
It is in those ways we are like our own parents
when it gets heated at least
they say things that we’re not suppose to repeat
the words we overheard them express to each other
in those unkind ways, that they know hurts the most
remaining with us like remnants waiting to be discovered in ourselves
any day now, we unconsciously say them to each other.
Turn off the lights, I say
because it’s ugly
looking at you this way.
Bully
Bully, I wear my scars well
the scars meant for me to remember
to remember something that did happened
the scars are there for me to remember
oh how I remember how you bullied me
into submission, I watch you hate yourself
as you tell me, want me to tell you what to do.
as you tell me, want me to tell you what to do.
Bully, I watched your need to be needed and then
you hated yourself and hated me for it.
you hated yourself and hated me for it.
You’d prefer control, you’d prefer control
since you’ve never had it.
Bowl of Soul
She talks about friendship like the rest of them
and already I know what she means: Never call
Never text, Never reach out with your hellos of
“How are you?” But yet I hope, she is different
as I build sandcastles for things beyond my reach
as the ocean pulls in and then devours everything.
mute…no?
assassination of heroics
Your point of heroics you so excitingly take as risk
when it just means you’re a jackass, just took six bullets to the heart,
from a gun loaded with somebody’s unmentioned soul.
When your first word, first verb of action, should of penetrated,
cut through, bust somebody’s vessel, it left a flesh wound,
somebody took it and made you a mute,
because you won’t listening to the first verse of Do it Now: €
The first cut should be the deepest, to penetrate… €
No longer linked to nobody, somebody is the shit now.
Somebody won’t be silhouetted curses of ain’t it a dream
won’t be the first thing tagged as a backlash
ricocheted as pastime masquerades, as a nigger being lynched on a page.
Ain’t it made easy regular, unmade uneasy irregular
in whichever mode of horror, so subtly exhausted, so abruptly gassed-out.
€ From Mos Def’s Black on Both Sides album 
Accordion
wanted to give you the greatest
the greatest melody for others to wonder
but I only have what I know, some sketches
of the skylines setting in the evening’s
polluted glow. Some unfinished thoughts in
my empty hole ridden pockets.
I wanted to love you like no other
so much so, nothing could stop me
I wanted to… I wanted too much.
Daffodils are Lilies
She said it was a bad connection as she summons
the executioner to sever my heart and banish me
my presence erased for always, thrown aside with the rest
while I still search for the correct signal of what she seeks.
From room to room, I roamed and performed
played with different identities I possessed
but none of my faces she could recognize, nor
did she have the patience for it, to see what I see.
She said it was a bad connection as she didn’t
want me from the time I made my introduction
with my best language I pursued her current interest
from my best seeds I gave her my daffodils
when it wasn’t I, I wasn’t the jester she was seeking.
Hurts
It would make more sense
if I had evidence of the pain
a bruised heart would raise
on my chest, and leave a scar
to remind me never to play
with fire again.
Injured by Need
when the days run faster, you fight
and search for a pattern, but you
you remember not to lean sideways
as you bend, you can’t remember
the last time she crossed your mine
nor can’t you remember her presence
what she looks like, or what she
sounds through the recorder
that is memory of a day
as she walks across your page.
Dressed Up in Time
maybe you should recognize|
my rest isn’t a pause, my count|
of one is really many, my heart|
maybe you should recognize|
my occurrence, my wave signature|
before telling me to stop beating|
breathing my dissent fire, blowing through|
the night, what it means to dream|
what it means to see|
Clairvoyance
As you turn away skipping
away with my sensibilities
my potential, I’m left with nothing
but a long for a time when I didn’t desire
to feel a breath as much as yours
your laughter haunting the corridors
the ghost mirrors the absence, I ware it like naked jewelry
naked jewelry of bones on display of my limbed soul.
I needed that what I gave to you
I struggle without it, my diadem
you accepted without knowing
how precious a self is to give away
not keeping something for me…
You didn’t want me anyway…
Contained
Dear Someone,
I felt the painful
drudgery of leaving
the door ajar?
My fear of silence
cold closed door
we can wonder
amongst ourselves
What safe means
Already New
What a night it was, when I realized
I have myself, and shouts of victory
sings, claps, praise a release that
doesn’t wait for you to recognize
validate my breath as it breathes
for the night’s fresh air, with it’s majesty
of stars, glory that is the moon, with
the coming sunrise, I kiss absurdity’s latitude.
Lover Sunset
Lover sunset, please don’t be a love sofa
because a love sofa only tease the loving
that was meant to be used: completely sprawled
as a conduit of connectuals, I recline on a full set.
History
I made a bed of marvelling
a spectator that risk nothing
as I live to work, since everyday
is routine, I plan events to escape
the monotony exhaling in pores of
last night’s adventure of nothingness
and then drown my sorrows in a note
a blind note bottled with the spirits of
the dead drunkards, I leave my last breath.
Can’t keep you Away in E flat
Can’t keep anything
Can’t keep you and your mind
Can’t keep your love, our love alive
Can’t keep the ghosts of unbelieving outside
Can’t keep you, as you’d want to be kept.
Vestige
And now, shoulders crouch
as if to say my rib cage was useless
as my heart no long lives there.
It is theirs, theirs to marvel as it skips
to beat faster as they appear through
mirrors. I am still living as if it were present
but if you look inside my skeleton you’d see
you’d see that I’m now cold and crude
broken, broken without my heart
oh Lord I miss you, I miss you, oh Lord.
Boomerang: A Christian Want
They say that if you put stuff out there you get it back.
Well, I’m tired of waiting for loyalty, tired of waiting for compassion
I’m tired of waiting for life to exude itself in kindness, sweetness
independent loving. When can I expect this back? Is there an expiration date?
When can I expect my “goodwork” to happen? Today? Tomorrow?
When can I walk steady and not be on a tightrope?
When will the pain of the devil stop so I can feel again?
Feel my neighbors, my friends, when can hurt
be temporary and doesn’t add up to a wretchedness?
I’m tired of knowing you don’t exist, I’m so tired of waiting for you out there
when all of my fresh being is anointed with hurt and pretense.
How many more years do I have to go before I don’t care anymore?
How many more people do I have to meet before I stop giving myself wholeheartedly?
How much more time do I have left before I just collapse in defeat?
DoubleSpeak
In the mist of mistakes lies trimuph.
When optimism is all I have left to risk
giving way to hopes of a juniper night:
Holding you again. Wanting something
I can’t have whole. I struggle in pieces…
I started drinking my desires away around 4:00 p.m.
It didn’t help the crying, as my shoulders, drunken
they weigh the hours and the minutes of this drought
silently anticipates seeing your golden eyes again
expectation wants nothing more than your kisses now.
Vulnerable to prays when I might be an atheist.
Prays for things out of my control, I meditate a howl
that is so quiet, but roars your name. Underneath bellows
relinquishing all the burdens of my travel through the fire.
The Dream
Driving down this long stretch of road
there’s nothing to see outside but darkness
I’m terrified of the battery going dead
but then I remember, and I’m comforted
with the thought of her weight pressing
against me again, her dancing as she cooks
she snaps her fingers, and glide her shoulders
from side to side, yeah I stare at her behaviour
from the soulful secrets I’ve stored as memory
so precious to me now as I race through the desert
like a fugitive, I race through the night wandering
through these wasted cities, I close my eyes to the lights
as I’ve arrived at my destination, where nothing exist
where I stand, stranded, looking into her eyes, surrendering.
COCOYEA 
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