Knock Knock Jokes (Writer’s Block Haiku) knock knock- who’s there? what do you call a writer who never writes? a joke.
Diaspora Dysphoria
Look I write something! I’m actually trying to perform this for the One World show my school has every year. I just auditioned it today, so let’s hope for the best <3 Still have to work of some of it, but most of it is here. Diaspora Dysphoria I am a child of diaspora. Last name I have no ties to, First name my mother heard on Sesame Street, Names give me no solace. My mama’s mama was a product of love soured By a nationwide obsession with race and colour: A story of a baby too brown For anyone…
Death Throes
Morbid fascination kills me again and again. These are the death throes Of our potential. This is the not the martyrdom I try to tell myself it is. It is assisted suicide. Nor is it the first time- Reincarnation ad nauseam, Same me, different yous- Till nirvana: A state I cannot reach. It sickens me, The way I crave Your attentions. Like Tantalus I thirst And am never satisfied. You bloom perpetual While I fade like echoes. Jeweled fruit that fall From your lips Into my ears Sweet fruit, biting aftertaste, Like soured wine to the dying man, Leaves me…
Impotency
Stagnancy-bred frustration Angry at what I wanted to do but didn’t What I didn’t do but could have. Listlessness taints everything, Even my rage is impotent.
Carnival Poem I
(I’m not dead). Carnival Poem I The music whips you into mania And the sweat of the masses incites to ecstasy If religion is the opiate, This is the tonic. Sweet like cascadoo, Rush of power like cocaine, Addictive like morphine. We are the vessels The street is the vein Infecting all with Wuk-up-yuh-waist-osis And free-up-yuh-self-itis. It is a chronic epidemic Where the only cure Is to succumb to the disease; More riddim, More kaiso, More tempo.
Heart Burn
Hey guys, i’m not dead! I wrote a poem and everything. Read on for delicious teen angst. -.- Heartburn You are bad for my heart. Premature ventricular contractions, Unexpected palpitations, Chronic pain that no Clinically proven prescription can palliate, With prolonged burning from passions Long since passed. All you’d left was a hole, And I was defective. Recovery is slow, I’m still clogged with thoughts of you, But the heart is a muscle So I’m working it out to be stronger. Remission lulls into complacency, So relapse is swift, acutely reminding That chronic pain is persistent. It is a return…
Frustration
I’ve been feeling it so long I’ve forgotten it’s name. It comes and it goes, Like the tide With its ebbs and flows, Like the moon It waxes and wanes, It is never really gone, Just lingering behind sight, Lulling with monotony Like waves crashing Against the shore, Till I’m waist-deep In despair, waiting To cycle out.
Ode
*NOTE* this has been edited. and i’m much happier with the edit. Ode Your voice is sweet and slow like honey dripping off a spoon, And the way your lips caress each word; parting is such sweet sorrow. Your scent intoxicates my being With its murmurs of power, Hints of vice And the lingering notes of fixation. Your pendulum see saw hips hypnotize my eyes So I play right into your smile When our eyes meet, time moves poco rit, As you weave your spell on me And when we touch, the heat crescendos, my heart beats staccato allegro And…
Call To Worship
The artist has no comment. I come to your temple to worship, I’m on my knees at the altar, Give me the wine, Let me taste your body. I adore with word, Thought And deed, Let my lips sing your praises. Let me worship at your temple, And when I call your name, It will never be in vain.
Fruition
(Clearly i’m on a roll today! must be the no sleep). The words form like fruit in the tree of the mind, If left too long, the birds of distraction Peck away, leaving only, and even then Only perhaps, a husk to make more fertile grounds. Pick it too soon and hope against hope As you force it to ripen that comes out right, But the skin is too green and the flavor is wrong, Though sometimes you can catch it at Just the right time, and nurture it in a Paper bag, and when it is ready, Even through…