In this cracked sky I am meant to burn in your stars fall in your arms with my eyes shut whisper my dreams in your ear reach for your pitch black secrets and feel the magic from your tearful moon
In this cracked sky I am meant to entwine to your untamed scars breathe in your heart pounding shadows serenade my breathtaking desires reach for your defenseless clouds and feel the silhouette of your tearful moon
“Your love is awakening, my vulnerability isn’t shaking, and our love has a spectacular view, I had no idea I would fall in love with all the parts of you”
In this cracked sky I am meant to graze your rattling fears carve out the magnetism from your eyes mutter my fantasies within the moans reach for your tragedies with my tongue and feel the agony of your tearful moon
In this cracked sky I am meant to melt from your invincible wind breathe out my uncontrollable love grip on to your bellowing fascination reach for your deepest and venomous sin and feel the drops of mourning of your tearful moon
“Your love is absolutely real, where my senses are heightened and I can truly feel, I love what we have become, the tears of the moon disappear as we fall deep in love under a smothering sun”
11:32am, situated on the corner of James Madison Boulevard and Whitman Street. I am sipping emptiness on the rocks in the scowling part of town, Jackknife Tavern. I’m sulking in the chestnut colored booth throwing darts at the bombastic God I use to love. I continue to taste the kisses of my skeptical past and shake hands with the skeleton of my future. I raise my clenched fist, “Hey brother, can you pour me another? If it’s not any trouble, make it a double.”
A Marylin Chambers look a like tapped me on the shoulders with an indecent proposal. I shook my head with a chuckle and a sleazy grin. “This isn’t a joke, I can only pay by the minutes or the number of strokes.” She disappeared like a magician with the smell of her perfume turning into an aphrodisiac. I swallow loneliness like an amber ale. Isolation is my best friend without a voice. I tend to make a midnight rendezvous with yours truly but my left hand shouts “I’m quite over zealous” and the right hand whimpers “I’m quite jealous.” I only tend to acquire sparks with jumper cables.
Between noontide and the teardrops of the moon, the carnival weaved in and out of the cavern. The hooligans are tap dancing next to the jukebox, the husbands are window shopping, the cut throat whistle stoppers are juggling negotiations and plastic speeches. The jamboree was full of exaggeration, plagiarism, copycats, and satan’s storytellers. I could hear them drinking the tears more than the alcohol.
2:35pm, the regulars and bystanders strolled in with folktales dripping grief. Cigarette smoke reeked of melancholy and satire. The ambiance was filled with extravagant bar tabs, sobbing cliffhangers, romantic comedies with the mourning saxophone playing in your left ear. If you listen close, the excuses and irritation can be heard in your right ear. A pint of desolation will taste sweet and a shot of despair will run down your throat faster than a horse at the Kentucky derby. It’s a relief and a head scratcher that we call it happy hour.
5:45pm, the eyes are dry and my stomach grumbled. The gin mill is as empty as my crooning soul. I can never make out the lyrics but I get goosebumps when I hear the sorrowful piano. Harper Guthrie struts in with his graveyard black t-shirt with the phrase “You can get this body for $19.95 for one hour, but if you act now I will make you as happy as a sunflower” printed on the front. Harper is jammed with acidic antidotes but will sell you antidepressants, antibiotics, and antisemitism.He talks with his wandering hands and pleads innocent until proven guilty. He will boast about his latest purchases, meaningless job title, and the abundant cash flow problem. He serenades to the audience that he drinks to happiness. Unfortunately, he’s been charged with terrible humor and convicted of lying to himself.
7:15pm, Jackson Bryant fumbles in with his auburn acoustic guitar. He glances at the minimal crowd from the undersized stage and begins to strum. Out comes a raspy but yet a smooth sound “You can find me in the dark trying to grip the wind, you can find me feeling lost not knowing where to begin, you can shout from the depths of your lungs, you can point your fingers at me and forget the person you’ve become.” Heads turn and faces become pale as if they seen a reflection of themselves. The song ends with the spectators clapping their hands rapidly and shouting out his name. He continued to play his set as the crowd was quite allured by his presence.
As the night begin to fade, the exchange had less of a bounce. Solitude was a fog prancing in front of our bloodshot pupils. I wrote “Goodbye, Goodnight” on a vanilla napkin and handed it to the gargoyle next to me. It was time for me to face the chorus in a song I didn’t want to play. Thirty five years ago on this melodic day, I married a ballerina that is still spinning on her tip toes of my crippled heart. The King of kings took my queen away. She was plagued with a disease that had no cure. I’m done praying to a God that doesn’t listen. All I know how to do is to fill up my glass with destitution to try to take away the overwhelming misery.
Greetings taxpayers, screen wanderers, and head nodding citizens, let’s dive into the ramifications of ignoring the siren of western civilization, where the infrastructure has had a crack for generations, the colors of the flag have become evanescent, where celebrities are glorified more than soldiers, where the all mighty dollar has more value than life,
Let me introduce myself, I am the Headstone Prophet, the accountant of distractions and destruction, I don’t see black and white, gender, classes, or status, I see authority and figureheads with meaningless titles serve themselves rather than society, I see inflation and corruption welded together to spark the genocide, I am the soothsayer that is gawking at the cemeteries, counting the caskets, I wear a tattoo on my middle finger that reads “The new world order doesn’t deserve a quarter,”
Behind closed doors, the henchmen are sipping on wealth mumbling “if you aren’t rich, you will become my bitch” and the others are ranting “if you aren’t in the grave, you will be my slave,” the catchphrases are lightning and the thunder to their ears, the powers that be want division among the dwellers, they crave disunity and friction, for every label there is a asterisk and a war,
It’s time to pay close attention to these staggering numbers, human trafficking is up twenty percent, the dishonesty among politicians is up a thousand percent, the media will twist the truth fifty percent, the longer you are glued to a screen the quicker you will forget the american dream, in the end the government cares about you is zero percent,
I am the headstone prophet, I stand before you to be the alarm, I stand here to wake up for those who are asleep, I stand here to deliver the most important message of your life, I stand here to hopefully avoid counting your coffin,
(1st Verse) I was born with symptoms of a transparent disease midday convulsions, cynical eyes, buckling at the knees I am stuck with satirical and catatonic eyes, I carry a tapestry of black and scarlet goodbyes, I hear my ghosts playing in a symphony singing my riddles I reside in the flames of the sunset with my anguish crying in the middle
CHORUS: I am the color gray gripping on to my rage I have a sister that screams that seems to never age I have a brother that reads my eulogy from a blank page I am infatuated with the rattle in a cage
(2nd Verse) I was born with my lungs full of wide eyed devastation morning sickness, sarcastic limbs, with my eyesight feeling irritation I am a bottle of endless and crude pills I can feel saliva dripping down my disorder seeking a thrill I can hear my villains playing the violins as I lay out my confessions I reside in the orchestra of my darkness clenching on to my obsessions
CHORUS: I am the color gray gripping on to my rage I have a sister that screams that seems to never age I have a brother that reads my eulogy from a blank page I am infatuated with the rattle in a cage
Bridge: Recklessness is my illness and medicine God laughs at my horrific skeleton I hold hands with Satan’s storytellers I sleep under a rose sky beside the bottom dwellers
CHORUS: I am the color gray gripping on to my rage I have a sister that screams that seems to never age I have a brother that reads my eulogy from a blank page I am infatuated with the rattle in a cage
CHORUS: I am the color gray gripping on to my rage I have a sister that screams that seems to never age I have a brother that reads my eulogy from a blank page I am infatuated with the rattle in a cage
(1st Verse) I am terrified of the darkness sitting still I am terrified of my identity getting killed I am terrified of the loneliness and isolation I am terrified of the water down hallucinations
CHORUS: All I have are hollow tears that fell from the cracked moon All I have is a heart that has been broken too soon All I have are years that feel wasted and gone All I have are tragic lyrics to a hopeless song
(2nd Verse) I am terrified of the light being gone forever I am terrified of the pieces I can’t put back together I am terrified of the blistering walls caving in I am terrified of not knowing where to begin
CHORUS: All I have are hollow tears that fell from the cracked moon All I have is a heart that has been broken too soon All I have are years that feel wasted and gone All I have are tragic lyrics to a hopeless song
Bridge: With these hollow tears, I traced the outline of my pain With these hollow tears, I am drowning in this pouring rain With these hollow tears, my eyes don’t see a glimpse of change
CHORUS: All I have are hollow tears that fell from the cracked moon All I have is a heart that has been broken too soon All I have are years that feel wasted and gone All I have are tragic lyrics to a hopeless song
(1st Verse) Once upon a midnight breeze I inhaled mourning and choked on my tragedies and I begin to stare into the raven’s lungs I began to speak with animosity on my tongue and I begin to allow the poison seep in my skin I am the one who carries truth laced in sin
CHORUS: I woke up to the sound of the blackout’s rattle crawling between insomnia and my battles my ears are bleeding from my punctured eardrum crawling between my stolen lies and the bullets of my gun
(2nd Verse) I exhaled bitterness and coughed up illusions and I begin to dance with my spots of my confusion I began to shout with sorrow dripping from my lips and I begin to allow the ignorance give me a lethal kiss I began to shed the light and my heart turned to stone I am the one who walks with fear and brittle bones
CHORUS: I woke up to the sound of the blackout’s rattle crawling between insomnia and my battles my ears are bleeding from my punctured eardrum crawling between my stolen lies and the bullets of my gun
Bridge: Once upon a thousand lies truth disappears as followers wave goodbye The paint on the face begins to dry as everything alive begins to die
CHORUS: I woke up to the sound of the blackout’s rattle crawling between insomnia and my battles my ears are bleeding from my punctured eardrum crawling between my stolen lies and the bullets of my gun
CHORUS: I woke up to the sound of the blackout’s rattle crawling between insomnia and my battles my ears are bleeding from my punctured eardrum crawling between my stolen lies and the bullets of my gun
Don’t pull the trigger, get on your knees Look up to God and believe
(1st Verse)
I want to be something you never had,
I want to be your dear friend.
I want to always be there for you,
I will be there until the end.
I want to be a better man,
I want to be the shoulder you lean on.
I want to be the one who adores you,
I want to be here when everyone is gone.
Chorus:
When your world comes crashing down,
there isn’t a rainbow or a soul around,
I will absorb the tears of the rain.
When your world becomes all gray,
it doesn’t feel like you can live another day.
I will absorb the tears of the rain.
(2nd Verse)
I want to be the one who makes you smile,
I want to be the one who quenches your thirst.
I want to be the one who will love you,
I want to be the one who you lean to first.
I want to be the one who dries your eyes,
I want to be the one who touches your cheek.
I want to be the one who gets to have you,
I want to be the one who loves you unconditionally.
Chorus:
When your world comes crashing down,
there isn’t a rainbow or a soul around,
I will absorb the tears of the rain.
When your world becomes all gray,
it doesn’t feel like you can live another day.
I will absorb the tears of the rain.
Bridge:
I won’t forget the day you walked down the aisle,
You decided to take my hand.
It was me that was crying tears of joy,
It was you that made me a happy man.
Chorus:
When your world comes crashing down,
there isn’t a rainbow or a soul around,
I will absorb the tears of the rain.
When your world becomes all gray,
it doesn’t feel like you can live another day.
I will absorb the tears of the rain.
She dances like a ballerina in a snow globe dandelions are adding lyrics to the sound of Mozart the splashes of watercolors were hanging above her elegance She glides for forgiveness and sways for sobriety the tinsel around her fury spirit is no longer sparkling She is twirling and spinning for a numb audience the atmosphere is toxic the ambiance in the snow globe is desolate At the end of the ballet only one rose thrown in front of her feet God threw it with all her might Her tears fell to the floor like a tidal wave She only needed to dance for herself
Once upon a midnight fear She took a sip of corrosion Debilitating manners and quirks Fumbling through a frenzy Gliding inside hallucinations Staggering outside the commotions A recollection of mourning
Stern exchanges melting Comments and remarks growl Sentiments dressed in black Treasures whispering hush Ripping dead skin with caution Crumbling faith turns into dirt A recollection of mourning
Hunger flexing with animosity Greed panting with saliva In holy matrimony with the raven She tasted the hollow bitterness Numb and disgusted by the poison Infuriated with the toxic rants A recollection of mourning
Provoked by exasperation Anxiety wrapped around her neck Choking on sour corruption Addicted to the murmurs Inhaling the virulent winds Wounded by a malicious tongue A recollection of mourning
A catastrophic touch bellowed Infatuation hung as a disaster Benevolence was a chewed up dog bone Loneliness exhaled rapidly Sympathy was a an old rag Love was just mucus from a cough A recollection of mourning
I’ve been in love with the nectar and the sour drippings of you I’ve been captured by the glaze of your caress I’ve been in awe by the comfort and the shivers of your embrace I’ve been enamored by the never ending kisses and the affection I’ve been mesmerized by the sparkle dancing in your midnight eyes
And the love with you is breathtaking And the love with you is indescribable And the love with you is remarkable And the love with you has opened me up
After so many years I wouldn’t have changed a second
I’ve been in love with the honey and the radiant treasures of you I’ve been enchanted by your words and glamorous skin I’ve been aching for the centerpiece to wake me up and feel alive I’ve been daydreaming of an endless love I’ve been intoxicated by the shimmering light twinkling in your soul
And the love with you is breathtaking And the love with you is indescribable And the love with you is remarkable And the love with you has opened me up
After so many years I wouldn’t have changed a minute
I adore your compelling comprehension and character I admire your aspirations and ungodly inspirations I treasure your heart felt ballads and surreal stanzas I could fall in love with your shimmering truth
Love me like a vase of flowers Love me like a summer rain Love me like the stars cherish the sky
I love how I am sipping your kindness and devotion I love how you unravel me and am drenched in my emotions You bring out the best in me, allowing my scars to be free
“I savor the intensity and the profound conversations, I taste the connection snd showering affection”
I adore your vibrating tenderness and curiosity I admire your lion like strength and stunning conviction I treasure your silhouette rhymes and castles in my air I could fall in love with your pure intentions
Love me like a museum worships a painting Love me like a river embraces the calm Love me like the clouds relishes the sun
I love how I am sipping your kindness and devotion I love how you unravel me and am drenched in my emotions You bring out the best in me, allowing my scars to be free
“I savor the light when my shadows were in the dark, I taste the sparks and desire with you in my heart”
I lay here in unloved skin with a ghost surrounding my unwritten pages I lay here in a whirlwind aching for you to fulfill my desolation with worn out tears I lay here with shadows crying and spelling your name with my fingertips I lay here in a cloud of passion missing your serenity wrapped around with my flames
Cover me in a blistering love Cover me in tender confetti Cover me in a bold yearning
“Come a little closer and don’t be afraid to feel, let’s get lost with what we know is real, Come a little closer and give me your recklessness, Come a little closer and fulfill my emptiness”
I lay here in unloved skin with an unhinged appetite boiling within I lay here in a frenzy circling for you to entertain myflammable wishes I lay here with fantasies exploding in luscious air I lay here in obscurity of devotion sweltering on the inside
Cover me in a sky of hope Cover me in tears of respect Cover me in a weeping bliss
“Come a little closer and breathe in our scent, come a little closer and feel where our dreams went, come a little closer give me what I long for, come a little closer and see you are all that I adore”
you could be the lyric that I never wrote you could be the nectar fawning on my tongue you could be the feather against my cheek you could be the warmth on my lost face you could be the song that repeats in my mind
And in the morning chill, I can taste the harmony off your skin And in the brisk moonlight, I can hear your symphony burn from your lips
you could be the melody that awakens me you could be the lily I see in my holy dreams you could be the breeze I never forget you could be the fear that I have forgotten you could be the song that repeats in my mind
And in the morning chill, I can feel your poetry in the chorus of my weary soul And in the brisk moonlight, I can recognize your violins in the orchestra
you could be the instrument that sparkles you could be the goodbye that is never uttered you could be the unspoken and endless limerick you could be the sorrow that turns into halcyon you could be the song that repeats in my mind
And in the morning chill, I can watch you play the acoustic guitar whispering your poetry And in the brisk moonlight, I can see pieces of myself you savor in your tragic song
Corruption struts but talks with a poisonous tongue Corruption is an invisible cramp but will shatter your spine And silence turns into a destructive hurricane Corruption bleeds black and white but spreads out in a grey sky Corruption is a bomb with whispers fading in a turbulent fog And as long as your catatonic eyes are mesmerized by the screen life is shipshape Corruption is dressed in thousand dollar slacks, cheap mini skirts, and does not discriminate Corruption is Satan’s heartbeat and greed’s best friend And as long as you are pointing fingers you are living the American dream Corruption never sleeps and is awaken with a pitch black grin Corruption is an irrational and invincible shadow And every industry will rape you without consent Corruption is a page filled with half truths, run on sentences, and punctuation that makes your stomach turn Corruption is a speech written by amateur burning with hallucinations And every celebrity you idolize is part of the scheme Corruption is a weapon to activate division, war, and lethal spending Corruption is a slippery secret among the powerful and elite And you won’t find the truth between the taxes and lies Corruption is a handshake between the enemy and beaucracy And you will learn to accept it because every soul has a price tag
To me, music and poetry go hand in hand. I have a playlist that I consistently update weekly. I really enjoy finding musicians or artists that are hidden gems. I tend to add music that is gut wrenching, heartfelt, and voices that stir the soul. I will play the song multiple times to embrace the music and lyrics separately before adding to ensure it fits the playlist. I call this playlist “Breathe in, Breathe Out.”
This playlist is cleansing and makes me think of so many things. This kind of music makes me reflect, reminisce, cry at times, and inspires my writing. I call this playlist “Breathe in, Breathe Out” because it brings clarity to the essence of life when I hear it. The music just makes me think about what is important and what isn’t.
My son consistently listens to it as well and it’s priceless to hear him singing the words to any song. I love hearing him sing. He sings so passionately and with joy. It’s a blessing to watch how music impacts him.
Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone — Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy: Be silent in that solitude Which is not loneliness — for then The spirits of the dead who stood In life before thee are again In death around thee — and their will Shall then overshadow thee: be still.
For the night — tho’ clear — shall frown — And the stars shall look not down, From their high thrones in the Heaven, With light like Hope to mortals given — But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever :
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish — Now are visions ne’er to vanish — From thy spirit shall they pass No more — like dew-drop from the grass:
The breeze — the breath of God — is still — And the mist upon the hill Shadowy — shadowy — yet unbroken, Is a symbol and a token — How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries! —
I’m not craving attention but your lightening connection. I’m not craving lust but the magic in our distance. I desire the conversation that is entwined and pure. I’m not craving anything hollow but the hunger within your desire. I’m not craving a fixation but the beauty of your gust.
I love how you make me feel, the ecstasy burning is real. I love how the flames surrounding never seem to get low, your brilliance always has an extraordinary glow.
I’m not craving the physicality but your alluring intelligence. I’m not craving your nails but your provocative touch. I desire the thirst and the hurricane between our fire. I’m not craving your luscious skin but the magnetic pull between us.
I love how you make me feel, the magnificent sensation is real. I love how the blaze within continues to rise, your affection was always smoldering in your burgundy eyes.
For the love of tears, bloom wipe away the melancholy from your sun seek purity and treasure your crevices decorate your scars with silver chimes feel the awakening in your tarnished spirit
Blossom from your strengths and weaknesses
For the love of tears, bloom entwine your blemishes and tenacity scratch your tenderness with your nails fall in love with your endearing sympathy recognize the sparkling ornaments within
Blossom from your strengths and weaknesses
For the love of tears, bloom interweave your warmth and quiet blisters step into your discolored anguish dance with your watercolored flaws croon your lyrics of sorrow and forgiveness
Growth is powerful. Often times you can’t see how much you have grown until you look back at who you were or what you have decided to let go. I have been writing for decades and have kept it a secret. Why? The reasons why I write are endless. It’s therapeutic, mentally stimulating, challenging, a place where I can voice my opinions, and today I believe others can find others or themselves in my poetry. It can be a place of self discovery and reflection.
Generally speaking, the perspective of a poet by society is someone who is broken, emotionally sensitive, and their voice is better articulated through words on paper than being spoken. To clarify this, written words are better used to express themselves emotionally. I can relate to this part. I am an emotional person and often times I cry because I have no words at times. Today I write with more of bigger purpose. I want to show the world that you people are not broken, they are just misunderstood. They are not surrounded by the right people.
At the end of my first marriage, I took it upon myself to attend therapy. I knew there were some things about me I needed to fix. I am a work in progress, in fact we all are a work in progress and under construction. Two of the things in my marriage that I needed to work on was speaking up for myself and taking control of certain aspects of my life. I was married to a woman who was overbearing, domineering and controlling. She was also an alcoholic. On my end, I wasn’t mature enough to walk away and sought out attention in the wrong way ways. I hid my writing at this time. Therapy gave me guidance and direction.
One of the things that I learned in therapy is that my growth was limited due to my surroundings. My father is quite judgmental and critical. Once I remarried and moved away, my confidence in myself flourished. I saw that I needed to move away. I will never tell my father that because I know that would hurt his feelings. I appreciate all that he is given me and the love that he knows how to give. He doesn’t just seem to care how to present sensitive topics, and how you present them often times is more important than what you say. As I get older, I’m trying to be aware of how I present subjects as well. There is a time to be straight forward, direct and there is a time to communicate with compassion.
In the end, I have grown to try to see the world and life through others eyes. I am not dead set on being right and if I am wrong, I will own up to it. I write poetry from the clouds with eagle eyes and try to embrace humanity. I see humanity without labels. There is a long list of individuals who want the world to change and I stand in a small line where I want to change the world. Everything is perspective and perspective is everything.
Storm of Ink 