abstract
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Who said I was inside?
Oh! I wish IT wasn’t
Put IT up in a tree
Or on a clothing line
There in sultry Hampton
Lad's reveries on mountain-toplet memories escape nonstop.Astir from dream-mares wogging pate,fog's arms around his slack slow gait.
Let the world say that I am mad,
Or let me allow saying that the world is mad,
For I don’t seem to understand its everyday running discourse,
They walk through dreams,
Skating on brush strokes of resplendent colors,
Gliding through prismatic clouds.
Leaves are nothing more than venations.
Follow me into the valleys, there's not much left up here
look left mind your head and don't forget to breathe.
Sometimes the world spins sideways but everyone still seems to be upside down when it stops.
Every petal painted pink and prime,Green leaves arranged with perfect symmetry,A few bright shades with which to tell a life,And yet a yearning in the purity. Structure formed and inside wholly planned,Meticulously minding every speck,Ideal distri
A split second is all it takes,
for everything to change whilst everything stays the same.
The surroundings have remained constant
but the perception has glitched.
This here, in my hands, is nothing more than an hour glass.
Time paves each grain of sand and marks the hours pass.
As each grain stumbles through a maze of consciousness,
It begins to identify itself with the others.
I have done everything in my power to become detached from the world.
Reassuring my decision every time I stare into your eyes.
My means of survival solely in the revival of your lips.
Maybe I love her more.
Then again maybe she loves me more.
To her love is a test.
I know I've missed my share of answers.
I looked at the clock.
Knowing I need to take my time but can't slow down.
Due to popular belief. I believe that certain things are due to happen naturally.
Like all other things it's bound to grow. This thing, love.
We are due to become obese to this organic, homegrown feeling.
I stare down to the highway
The back lights bleed yellow through the night blue
Like stars
Jasmine rice and everything nice
Jade, onyx
Blood diamonds
Slithering snakes,
Sun dried
Tomato paste
Take a taste
Tell a tale
Lives for service
Smiles for sale
Hungry, my brain’s insatiable appetite devours sweet, skillfully written words
The lines flow, a river of rhymes, winding down a path of metaphors and similes
They grow long, coming out the same homegetting thick by each slicerarely pulled by the core.
I thought you’d smell like butterflies-
like the tip of a lollipop-stained tongue,
baby’s breath and bleached teeth-
so I inhaled you like a pixie stick
and
From a desk
Looking out
See the array of stars
Mysterious, cryptic
Like the souls of all you know
In the Nexus of dreams
Ideas to explore
Vast and intricate
Some simple yet potent
Her heart seemed to of thudded against the floor
I looked at her
Her mouth agape and a string of blood
Slowly drips from her mouth
To the floor
my legs feel frail again
(oh am i wilting?)
i don’t know if i’ve skipped to the end
or rewound to the beginning
unsteady i betray myself
almost done, can’t sway
not this time
this time
Is anything truly enough to make myself contented?
My life peppered with my parent’s virtues
Taught to be like a raging fire, not to take the simple, weak word “No”
Dear What Could've Been,
hey. this is kind of weird. i know you
but you dont know me
i think about you a lot actually
i wallow in the idea of you
i savor each moment
moments
Dear Mama,
What makes a monster a monster?
Is it the piercing horns that protrude from each side of its head?
Or the fierce teeth that growl to deliver freight?
there's this jellyfishstuck in my headhe swims there day and nightand lights up the darkinside of my skulla bioluminescent, fluorescent jellyfishswollen and pinkhe likes to shock me
in all these infinities,
i wonder if all
this water is as heavy
if the storms
cry harder and
if the fires burn brighter
if the earth spins,
does it spin me
The colors in my brain make more sense to me than the words that occupy the spaces in between them.
They form the story of evil and heavenly that is printed on the pages that represent my life.
Come and see,
as the sun sets in all of its glory to touch rays of waning light
upon a quiet hill of houses with the peace of doves
and a story like the stars,
Little Miss Magic of sweet song and sound. Little Miss Magic of perfect balance and crown. Little Miss Magic of passion and care. Little Miss Magic consumed by love and redacted of fear.
my thoughts are pine needles
they drift into my head
and snap again,
just as easily.
they rustle in the wind
a sign of growth
Stuck, entangled,
Entrapped in the mangled
Mess of the past
This hollow tomb for a doer
Of evil is empty and black
There is no hope for the futer
Cause Only death is to come
I was a shirt filed with straw and rags.
Pants that hang loose. Jeans cuffed pinned uncomfortably.
Nothing to think of; a hat filled with straw.
The inability to walk. Pinned to a board.
Hickory oak.
Man made of fire,
Passion to fight.
Arrow through his heart,
Yet he refuses to die.
As stubborn as the light in his eyes
Avast there, fellow!
See you not, and hear you not, the burnt sienna siren,
Beckoning from beyond the mast?
Nay, for over the scream of soaring seas
If this was you,
what would you do?
Cave under pressure?,
Play sick like you got the flu?,
Nah, can't do that,
I got the team on my shoulders,
No coffee to wake me up,
Grain after grain it slips away..Into the endless abyss we call time.Second after second you take breathe not knowing if its going to be your last. Minute after minute you smile feeling like time has stopped.
When the brushhairs touch the smooth canvas
My abstract thoughts and feelings are no longer outlandish
My cheeks lift up pulled by beautiful happiness
As ideas come forth unridiculed by their possible wackiness
Horse and rider,
Take pace beside her.
Never a faltering stride.
Crucified
In metal and bronze,
A monument meant to stand for eons.
Not much can be said about lines and circles.
At least from an observer''s view.
I, the lines, the circles,
My eye, the lines, the circles:
All in a straight line (with circles).
Painters seem to love their
In our existence, life has been recognized as:
preconditioned, preconcerted, predestined,
confusing the bountiful, for the beautiful.
Ever so often doth waters drop on clay;
Eyes were like a window
Transparent as glass
Revealing nothing but the slate concrete and ruffled grass beyond them
Gripping his sky-clad hand hard,
We trekked down the quiet road
The feathered monster stretches its wings, creaking as they grow.
The wisps of smoke overtake the mirror.
A woman begrudgingly smiles, forcing happiness to show.
In the end, they're all blurs.
Passing through the streets, some stopping to say words at me
Fewer seeking the words that I can give to them.
Unsure.
Each next one more insecure than the one preceeding.
You cannot silence me!
I am your God!
I am your savior!
You cannot change me!
I am Satan!
I am the night!
You will not stop me!
I am The President!
I am the advocate!
Behind the soft focus and midnight lamps, I stand an individual ripe of expression and newborn neon. A flourescent buzzkill in my own devices. Passion is never an option, only a cursed persistence of never gone yet sometimes frozen feeling.
The tears that are surfacing upon my eyes and leaving glistening trails of a salty substance are not there for the comfort you had given me.
Everything beautiful is either immensely frail or immensely strong.
Memories, frozen in time, lasting one second. Lasting a thousand seconds. They are beautiful because they are so fleeting in our minds.
Who am I? That's a loaded question.
We are all dense individuals, filled like an overflowing dam with ideas, experiences and contexts.
Have you noticed that the clouds move fast when there's no wind
did you know that they move slow when thunder breaks upon
The moon beams through a sliver in the clouds,reminding me of the light in your eyesYou are the greatest affliction.
Tea on a Sunday
evening
Two young girls
hide behind their words
their illustrations
small talk eludes
dark realities
too afraid to address
the monster
in the closet
Whenever you look at a clock,
seconds tick away.
Wheneer you take a step,
millions are taken.
Wenever you say a word,
coversations begin and end.
Whenever you do anything,
Mr. Clock, why are you so mean?
Every time I'm havin fun time flees,
Yet every time I am unhappy you won't leave.
Mr. Clock, your hands are evil,
They control me in every way.
He swore there was gold woven through the fabric of her skin,
But the slightest ivory phantom slipped out of her mouth.
As soon as she understood, she inhaled.
"I take it back," she breathed
Hope.
It runs deep.
Deeper than any mineshaft,
Tunnel or crevice within the world.
Versatile, yet universal to all.
It doesn’t hesitate, procrastinate
Or assimilate.
Hope is…
Seeing a painting
That most people think has no meaning
I see something else
In the jumble of stuff
Not just splatters of paint
But pictures in unlikely places
Maybe a lady on a swing
Abstract.
I feel as though all I am is all that is abstract. That everything that seems to be, merely
Is a man or woman mad in a powergrab? Is there hope or despair in a screencap? I don't know where the hate starts, is a man just a beast born to rape parts? At first glance it's a seed of suspicion, it blooms fast if you look a little different.
Like a puppet with ripped strings I hang limp from a tree that is rooted in bad seeds. I have no direction and no recollection of anything but the present. Everything else is blocked out and I always want to shout.
A lofty tower looming above the others
A tall man who sticks up above the rest in a crowd
A tree rising above the shrubs in the mighty forest
Crazy talk, they say Day after day I wallow in the unfairness of their wordsWhat do you know, What do you know?Uvula of the sky, Like God's defeated eyewatching the men below
Everyone want to be different
abstract
unique
dare i saw it, hipster.
These people write,
these people are emotionally unstable,
these people are infamous for being damaged,
My mind is a portal to worlds of possibilities of success. There I sit in my imaginary kingdom of ease and finesse While I caress my thoughts of future glory and a new kind of persona- A man that will generate much fame and renown.
Blinding crimson rushes by
Roars through my head, screaming
Shaped like a lion
Cracking like lightning
Shaking my fragile frame to its core.
In the wake of the killer
please beware
the end is near
when it gets here
i expect you to care
if you do
then head my advice
if you dont
youve been warned
for when we reach
the end the rope
Twinkle Twinkle little starI do not know where you areAll I see is an expanse of blackAnd I wish all my stars would come back.
In the blackest of the night, It glides through the overgrown grassand threw the sewers under the city streets.It swallows the minds of innocents.It rips into the lost souls.
I live in the shadows to
let you soak up the sun. It looks
better in your skin than mine. I let it
go. (watched you slipped so rapidly) I'm
moving along. I cannot hear the lovely ballad of songs
The walls just keep crumbling...
Into the sea in which I keep fumbling
As I looked upon the water something I wasn't able to see
A reflection of my world and the reflection of me
I am fal
ling towards a gen rul
sense of apathy towards
po eh tree that does
not ah peel to me.
There is a madman on the wall
Where he hangs with sticky fingers.
And in his quick-silver hand
Lies a locket made of whispers.
She went to see the world down low
The girl with lanterns in her eyes.
So she flew on her cycle to the people below
The girl with lanterns in her eyes.
I have met my spirit
Even touched it once
With a primly havened tip of a harbored finger
But was shocked
so shocked that I beheld such a thing in my dank, cavernous arua,
Of the train according to the front, after the order of 1000 suns cry eyeball - can all combustion terrace.
La la tu tu tu to ri pu ti tu
Le Le Le is si fu
La la tu tu tu to ri pu ti tuLa la la si fu
Tu to ri tu ru fu LE Te lo ri si fuTu to ri tu ru fu leTA lo ri fu
Eh Le ca se Le taaaaaaaa
The aesthetic beauty of the mind to behold.
Not one can abate my hunger, my disease,
I've come upon these thoughts to ponder,
The substantial blank you bring appease.
To whom to which the eyes behold,
The aperture of existence surged into the void of her happiness
And the smiling sun extracted the life from her pallor flesh
Daffodils danced as she traversed the ashen river of though
Seeking validation
Like a penny on the street
How many pounds of complacency before
We forget to eat
Walking through this
Void of regression
We are blind to
The subtle conversations
I used to steal everything
All my jewelry and perfume
But you can’t steal from a coffee shop
So that’s where all my money went
I knew a girl who took fire to her arms
Regret is
Waking up ten minutes after falling asleep,
Rolling out of bed and staring out of your window,
Fully knowing that the glass beneath your fingers is breakable too.
Loneliness is
There's the waveand the crashThere's the runand the screamOh WhyGod Why? Silence Hold it inLet it outHold on tightLet it go It's hereIt's done Silence Looking backwish and reamLooking aheaddream and wish Forgetremember Silence
Prepare yourself,
For this will not be ordinary.
To express the way I feel
Is to look upon the people of this earth with a smile in my heart
To see the distraught
the unloved
the wanting
Long slender fingers
Decorated with infinite jeweled rings
Oval-shaped nails
with settled-in pink coating
Twiddling her thumbs
playing an invisible piano
Carefully, carefully, carefully you step-
The lines drawn without embellishment or
The possibility of such an accompaniment
A room filled with absence and the
Here's it
here's that
here's everything.
the discovery, the rise, the fall
the fall, so steep, so black, so surprising
sliding on your skeleton
carrying your deserved cross
remember?
Don't you realize what this means?
a strand of hair on the head of the globe
a black pixel on a static screen
that's all you are and all you mean
But that was a feature in yesterday's paper
And I was just wondering if you saw it too
The green bile behind all these smiles
Coming up up up
Starting up up up
What is it about a fire escape?
A rusty, old fire escape
attached to a building that has seen many years,
many faces...
What is it about a place to sit
that looks out over a small world...
if i could breathe
the right words
let them slip
from my lips
i would take my time
to let you see my world...
from glass eyes.
if i could speak
the right words
hold them
in my hands
Such a pain.
To put it up
Take it down
To clean it.
Such a pain.
Bits falling on you when you brush against it
Or throw something at it,
When you hang something up.
Such a pain.
