Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Lost but Searching
Wishes become dust in inclination to rush contentment
Snitches twist intention amid their lives of time wasted
Take statements out of transit then insist that I betrayed them
Plaintiffs stick to accusations postulating clients' innocence
Hypocrites sicken even the most sin-strickened witnesses
Sift amid the splintered boat we sculled in summer weather
Measure up the weight of gain or loss and toss the lesser
Dress your complaints of my conduct just excuse my vomit
Honest thoughts on hindsight shine light on the heeding comments
God, there’s no logic to the premise of what you argue
Charred for the view that my fortress was contoured to discard you
Far be it for me to say “See!” when mentioning past sent warnings
Ignore me, then drape me with blame after hope commences forming
Contort or distort me to the image that best eases hurting
Surely I’ll try to find the next chick that thinks I’m lost but searching
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Pittsburgh and Philadelphia
Thursday, October 18, 2007
each rhyme that she took
Wood shavings brushed aside display/
A well designed
Defiled shell of failure in a play/
In vain he searched for characters to trade his scripted part/
Depicted part of what he was so far
She numbly ripped his heart/
Retarded sense of context
He dissected each encounter/
Bound each prospect with potential
Built a fence around her/
It used to be effortless
Stressed syllables matched without pressure/
Sounds aligned without measure/
Pleasure was expressing a thought
Not substituting for a lesser word with a better flow/
Nor throwing out a token that would let her know/
Stoop within the gutter
Prod the vagrant's vacant book
Look at when she left his life and each rhyme that she took
She shook the being she was to fit his neatly inked desires
He'd write to grasp her shadow though he lacked the words required
So on they danced their "cat and mouse" till one of two things happened
He ran his heart of ink or she just couldn’t read and vanished
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Bland
Syndication of the issue/
With pen disseminate
The way I hate the time I’m with you/
I can’t get through each reunion
Because on cue our time elapses/
Panicked
Clasp the clock around the neck until it passes/
Unhand it
Wrap my ears around your voice as it splits air/
Neglect to share your scent on days the breeze hints of your hair/
Unfair
The way the winds of autumn tease me with your fragrance/
Days spent in your absence leave me waning with the vagrants/
Aimless
I see out our moments
Hold them in my thinking/
Squeeze out every second known but let me keep your breathing/
Breach my scenery
Bleach each image etched upon my mind/
Please leave alone your visage
Render lens and iris blind/
Grind away my skin and nerves
Disperse my sense of touch/
Just let me tuck away the flood of blood when our arms brush/
Suck away each flavor savored
Sweet and sour flip/
Everything deemed bland
Against your taste upon my lips/
Soldier Field
Plus, I got a Bernard Berrian bobblehead in the team store.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Frick Museum in Chicago
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Denver Skyline
Monday, October 8, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Lackluster Rhyming; Ear Slaves
In an era remiss of innocence
Missing
Or envisioning
A kiss on the tips of lips
Mimicking an eclipse of mythical visions
Or depictions
Figments
Fragmented actions
Fractured by the lack of time
Or timing
Mimes chime in with their reenactment
An artistic recant of lackluster rhyming
Peeling off gauze
Pause
Cough up embalming fluid/
Grab a cup
Turn it up
Relax to this calming music
Breath grazes vocal cords
Vibrations bend air waves/
Mouth facilitates thoughts
Caught
Now you’re my ear slaves/
Hypocrisy:
Me trying to appease you
Yet I’m bound by my pen/
Tied down by flesh
Meshed with a hunger to sin/
Lend an open mind
I’m confined to the ink and its well/
I wield the pen
Yet it manipulates me when it spills/
Filled with black confessions
Guilt lessons with faults discovered/
Amazing what a “Christian” exposes when the vaults uncovered/
Masai Warriors
Saturday, October 6, 2007
African Elephants
Monday, October 1, 2007
Cue the Music; Blanket Seams
Too many days I’ve raped this dictionary
Tearing Webster’s hymen
High pitch rhymes get violent
Ripping thighs and stitching them from abdomen to spine. Then-
Let them mend to hear you cry when spinning lines that might split
Gripping on the hemmed up seam to see your lumbar vertebrae
How they shake when words escape
Draping down your tongue and mouth and placed upon my dinner plate
Taken from your lungs to stuff my ego when our winter drapes
Racing sirens light the pavement’s paint in wasted haste to save you
Patients wait
They hate you
Scrape your place from memory to clean a lane to wade through
Thank you
But I can’t do it
To take our time and write it out would waste my day
So screw it
This avenue has brewed my fumes
I’m through
So cue the music
Our bond takes form in text
Perplexed you feel confined
Restricted minds decide a love is bound by page and rhyme/
A different frame of sight will find your grace when seen by me/
Can blind the eye of countless men when penned for all to read/
Air seeps from lungs with every passing touch your hands impart/
When love is acted out it’s seen as porn
In words it’s art/
In darkness all the boundaries of my flesh can find their peace/
The sweetness of your skin
The scent of limbs within my reach/
The morning blink of waking time displays frayed blanket seams/
Each written verse that beats your drum becomes a faded dream/
Blatant empty sheets think of your face and turn to laugh/
Mapping all your attributes
The tune
On them
Falls flat/
Grasping to the mattress for a remnant of our night/
Like all my other days this one is barren
Stripped by light/