She’s exhausted from spilling ink She’s uncertain with her fingertips She’s wobbly and shaking on the inside She’s powerless from the past She’s flimsy as a thin piece of paper Sing me a song for wide hope Sing me a song for stretched out faith
She’s frail within her bones She’s isolated from the rattle She’s licking her wounds quietly She’s aching for companionship She’s comfortless and abandoned Sing me a song for freedom Sing me a song without chains
She’s tangled up in desolation She’s withdrawn and torn down She’s a tragedy without a witness She’s reclusive and friendless She’s a sky without any clouds Sing me a song for change Sing me a song for healing
I use to wear a serenading taxi cab colored sweatshirt with a patch of of birds heading south for the winter to Morgan’s house She’d always laugh at the caption below “Are we there yet?” and pour me a drink She paraded her fathers den that reeked of nicotine and late night affairs Flipping through the eclectic taste of albums Spinning the quarter in the afternoon air Indecisiveness roaming like a soldier Morgan was the advocate of passive aggressiveness Mumbling curse words and playing with a rubber band in tangled dialogues Morgan would often lean in and tap her fingers on my thigh as if she was playing the piano Slightly obtrusive and deliberately coy Consistently playing word games with my emotions Shouting “Love is fickle, but you could dance with me for a nickel” Often devilish wearing a copper halo Tossing idioms between stirred pauses Blatantly ignoring the officer in the pictures on the olive walls She referred to him as the man that dragged her from state to state Leaving her in decorated homes with meaningless jewelry Constantly toying with closeness and distance with my lips in the sanctuary Shaking my head from the autumn perfume From month to month my title changed from tool box to aberration On that fateful hour I made the doorbell sing and no one replied Glancing down at the welcome mat I picked up the ivory envelope Ramblings were engraved and cemented Paragraphs leaving a starry eyed melody Entranced by the last line that catapulted reality “The officer who claims to be my father hasn’t taught me how to say goodbye”
For you and the truth, I lay awake circling my vulnerability I can taste the poison on my tongue I dwell in my pond of insecurities I gnaw at my unspoken and sedated soul I claw at my resilience with my tired fingers I pick at my invisible wounds with an axe I watch the apprehension hang over my head I whisper to my demons “listen to the crack”
I am holding your hand with one eye open a gust of change feels like a storm I’m terrified to open up both eyes to see I don’t deserve you
For you and the truth, I find myself misplaced and disoriented I spot the conditions and uncontrollable urges I removed the hindering spotlight I am haunted by my effervescent carnival I have waved goodbye to the magnetic carousel I steer toward the corridor of isolation I clutch on to the paradise dancing in your eyes I am sinking in the malevolent circus
I am holding your hand with one eye open a gust of change feels like a storm I’m terrified to open up both eyes to see I don’t deserve you
For you and the truth, I am weeping on the inside in this masquerade I am praying I will find edges of my identity I leave my pieces behind reaching for you I grip on to tomorrow and replay yesterdays I cough up the suffocating air and sorrow I choke on my frustrations and crooked thunder I see the lightning in my affliction I recognize the heartache that flickers within
I am holding your hand with one eye open a gust of change feels like a storm I’m terrified to open up both eyes to see I don’t deserve you
Between the ivory blank page and the tangle among the frozen words I grunted frustrations and dabbed my fingers in the reverberating clouds Love was written for daydreamers I vigorously plucked the petals from the fortune teller’s teary eyed rose Agony and torment stretched out along my hypersensitive spine Tenderness was shattered into fragments glaring at the distinguished pieces Astonished from the inward discovery never seeking the grace within Clarity crept in under a cherry tree
I’ve been cauterized by my figment of my bleary imagination I’ve overlooked the obscurity dripping in the marrow of my bones I’m reminded of my thin sensibilities drifting in a whirl my memories weep in the photograph of Black-Eyed Susans in the vase next to the grin of my brave mother
Thank you for the encouragement Thank you for the warmth Thank you for walking with me in the dark Thank you for the light you gave your grandson
I’ve been sobbing at the gravesite with a four leaf clover clenched in my hand I’ve heard the growl within the pieces of my shattered heart I’ve stared into the loss and the pins sticking in my sensitive nerves my memories weep in the photograph of Black-Eyed Susans in the vase next to the grin of my brave mother
Thank you for the joy Thank you for the unconditional love Thank you for your never ending presence Thank you for the smile you gave your grandson
She disguises herself with prescriptions and 1970 cliches. More often she sleeps in black leaves and clenches to the whispers of the blizzard. She prays to the secondhand lions and searches for forgotten riddles. She laughs at horror films and weeps at the comedy classics. She’s never used the word forgiven.
She wrestles with the fears in the morning and drowns in the insomnia at night. She speaks in a language without discretion. She plays with her skeletons in the closet. She ignores the left side of her imagination. She dances to jazz and dips her fingers into white pages to write enigmatic poetry.
She expresses affection with amber kisses and her fingertips. She said goodbye to her fireflies. She built walls with quicksand and tears. She stares at her right side of her imagination. She pleads with the stone truth. She’s witnessed more endings than beginnings.
She circles her anger like a hawk. She’s deprived of human decency. She loves with a small percent of her tattered heart. The rest is locked in a music box surrounded by caution tape. She sings to her frustrations to soothe the madness. She’s in love with only parts of her identity.
Slithers like a charcoal sidewinder French accent is a wicked aphrodisiac Natural head turner, twinkling nighthawk strutting her curves at the Foxglove Tavern A logical spinning conversationalist twirling liberal storyteller with satin lips dogs with saliva disregard the translation centered on the painted mask and surface neglecting and overlooking her education refusing to sift through her elegant layers ignoring her quiet pulsating sensitivity discounting her popular and beloved color suits craving sin with childish innuendos speaking bland three dollar pick up lines meaningless chatter leading to nothing outsmarting the tacky salesman pitch self respect higher than a skyscraper hidden goals remain underneath patience lingering in her queen size bed two hands on the steering wheel of self love
I can foreshadow a society crumbling from applied science, twisting theories contorted plasma, and friction analysis thesis based on wealth and leaking myths Pillars from a system situated in sand a sinking infrastructure, vanishing unity colorless pupils plagued with a manuscript spineless leaders, particles of blunders piling up, giant omissions paralyzing the fabric, Programmed illnesses with a pinch of annihilation, nations weeping counterfeit drops of sadness, gradually seeking contemporary alliances, executive orders bleeding extermination, outlined syndromes with a hint of illusions, corruption in the palms of the establishment, enigmatic statistics catapulted in a ocean of the deceased
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I saw a glimpse of paradise, toddlers playing with brilliance, wonder, and a light breeze serenading through the air as a teenager drinking water from fire hydrants, in front of provincial chateaus, clarity and modesty was a thread, surrounded by a crooning sky of beliefs and faith, conviction is just an antique sitting in a clammy basement, wrapped up in newspaper with headlines of World War Two, buried in a crate labeled “Precious and few”, where dreams shifted, echoed, and the revolution within was smoldering, freedom was sung by entrepreneurs, capitalists, and poetry was a blue jay flying from tree to tree, love was a drink we all consumed and sipped all through the decorated nights, yet today the clowns wear painted tears and smiles are weary
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I am madly in love with the metaphors from Walt Whitman, sweetness waltzing through Dickinson’s verses, where landscapes feel the sunlight, rain drizzling on white picket fences, I fell for the similes that left glitter on my fingertips, ballads that reverberate within the words, stanzas that capture charm, but in the present I read a direct message, thoughts thrown on paper within seconds, impressions not thought provoking, automation becomes a crutch, loneliness seeking attention, reality drifting like a hitchhiker, dwindling patience, crime rising like flames in death-wish fields, scarecrows parading cracked pavement, insanity yells, neon lights flicker every three minutes, like an apocalypse, but keep your view on the illuminating screen, sarcasm spasms, bellies filled with microwaved meals
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I’ve browsed countless articles of chemicals being dumped in soil, animated creeks, flowing rivers, deep cobalt seas, and wide oceans sweep it under the Persian rug, deposit the funds, retract it, close the column, turn off the comments, ignore the facts, don’t read it, let your fog disregard the bedrock of our country, Freedom is the eagle on our printed currency “In God We Trust” wasn’t coined by non- believers, deceivers, and tinted lawmakers In a heap of literature, liberty isn’t just a statue, a symbolism of integrity, war and peace, mother of monuments, breathtaking torch, Goddess of our Declaration of Independence, classic signature standing in Manhattan, New York, she is the sanctuary of our nation, yesterday can’t be expelled, removed or deleted, Can I erase your self-righteous past?
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I’ve seen grownups stomp their feet, throw child like tantrums over slim debates with cursed words thrown like daggers I’ve seen electronic devices used to record heinous crimes, satirical protests, and mind bending disturbances across the globe videographers portraying innocence, displaying evidence, defending irresponsibility I’ve seen switchblades pulled out over loose change and collected indifferences I’ve seen incompetency to be irrelevant, tenure a driving force, dynasties collapsing I’ve seen bewilderment shine brighter than quickness and keen observations I’ve seen enlightenment and murky insight wither in closets at a candlelit masquerade
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I’ve seen cemetery’s of soldiers that gave you rights, freedom, and opportunities I’ve seen flags placed over coffins, brothers in arms subbing, veterans in wheelchairs, struggling to tell a tale, medals of honor with insomnia, abolished slavery, rise of women’s rights, PTSD worn on every soldiers sleeve, But keep your eyelids on the screens, watch “Grand Opening” signs become obsolete, do what you do best, do nothing, stand for nothing, mankind defusing, watch the word “Entitled” become sewn on our flag, replacing the fifty gold stars, watch Betsy Ross cringe, stare into the tears of the sun, feel the winter for decades ahead, watch the selfish gloat, glare at the chill, embrace the still of the frost,
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I took vows to be mistaken and unwanted I took vows to be just a carcass I took vows to feel the treacherous winds I took vows to someone that is clueless I took vows to someone that can’t read between the lines I took vows to feel the written script I took vows to someone that can’t hear my words I took vows to talk to myself I took vows to someone that just doesn’t listen I took vows to someone that does the bare minimum I took vows to be a shadow and a check book I took vows when I was someone else I took vows to be a trash can I took vows to someone that refuses to evolve I took vows to feel something because it was better than nothing
Deep inside a serious social commentator I chronicle little nothings from something Residing in a seven hundred square foot apartment with spaghetti stains on Saudi Arabia colored carpet Exhausted from walking on egg shells and shrapnel from the one word responses “I planted seeds, give me what I need” She exclaimed with a riddle with her arms raised in the alabaster breeze Shrugging my shoulders in discomfort “You dealt me ripped cards, at Zero Point Boulevard” Squinted eyes, zig zig aggravation, and disgust is a ghastly taste I use to dance in your verses and your loose lipped stanzas Coincidentally there are no replies to my praise Dwell in your manipulation, circus mind and a diary written in mud Frankness stood upright and you ignored it No transitions in your language, just a hint of apricot Senselessness and ramblings squabble on this path Coping is your worst enemy
I witnessed a revolution within my evolution Blending between the escape and noise Seeking a discrete language within my bones Torn into shrapnel and self diluting conflict
“Son, you can never walk away from the pain Don’t bother trying if your mindset is the same We all have to fall to see where we are It takes a lifetime to recognize what was easy and what was hard”
Thirty five years passing by, Staring at the same rooms with the same old eyes Points of view turned me into stone It’s not a secret that I’m walking alone
I’ve held a reputation to ignore the sensation A fusion of mediocrity and ignorance Hunting down a passage in a coma Frayed and twisted in my frozen mind
“Son, you can never change what was Don’t bother trying to walk off the buzz We all have to crawl before we can run It takes a lifetime to recognize what you’ve become”
Thirty five years passing by, Staring at the same rooms with the same old eyes Points of view turned me into stone It’s not a secret that I’m walking alone
Love was just an insignificant occupant making me gag Love was just a bad joke I heard in another language I couldn’t comprehend Love was just a citizen that held me down and raped my soul with a jagged knife Love was just a stench I couldn’t wash out Love was just a word created by Hallmark Love was just four letters thrown together to serve a ridiculous purpose Love was just a shadow so I can feel myself Love was just a bruise on my shin to prove I exist Love was just a song written by a billion dollar jester Love was just a death wish waiting in the wings Love was just a plant I didn’t water Love was just a black eye with covered up lies Love was just a watercolor I can’t see Love was just mascara running down my face Love was just a cloud of obscurity Love was just a gram and a kilo of voids Love was just a room of emptiness Love was just a shattered mirror I look at every day Love was just a pile of poems that made sense one day Love was a just a pile of poems that I threw away the next day Love was just an adolescent that claimed to know it all Love was just an adult with an addiction that didn’t know a damn thing Love was just a bomb that exploded on planes, in buildings, and in schools Love was just a clan, cult, gang, a war of losses Love was just a book that millions don’t read Love was just a doctrine of stolen beliefs Love was just a pile of divorce papers Love was just a trigger pulled by one finger as the other four were staring at him Love was just an overused word Love was just ten minutes of causal sex Love was just an irrational scream Love was just the sun not seeing the moon Love was just a down payment for an item I haven’t touched Love was just a puzzle piece that doesn’t seem to fit anywhere
Love me father for I have sinned Love me for my teary eyed tragedies Love me mother for I have misrepresented Love me for my emerald skin
Drowning in my identity
Love me fireflies for I have wept in the dark Love me for I have crippled my vitality Love me acquaintances for my tainted tongue Love me for my abandoned flames
Soaking in a lost curse
Love me companion for I have misplaced love Love me for I have spoken to my villain Love me obscurity for I have been misguided Love me for I have crawled in my dismay
