fff#22: (starter) when I drink (ah find d permalink! plus the link for the blog itself is HERE. also, i don’t drink. seriously). when i drink, the warmth trickles down my throat, settles in my tummy for a moment, then rushes off to curl my toes. the warmth then moves to my head to cloud my judgment, heighten my thoughts, and dull the reasons why i don’t think about them. the warmth then envelops me, heats the tips of my ears, then whispers into them, and tells me i’m invincible, and so i am. but eventually the warmth dissipates, the toes…
Speak
Speak to me, Write me a letter With your spray-paint pens And emulsion ink. Tell me your wants Tell me your needs Your dreams, Tell me what you feel Show me Yell it to me In the brightest colours Of your rage Your joy You passion Your sorrow Your visions of future, Past, Tainted utopias, And perfection in chaos Shout at me. Shout at me, Make me listen. And when I am listening, Remind me, That I too Should be speaking.
The Journey
The move from mind to pen, pen to paper, paper to keyboard, Word to world, Is a journey where thoughts are lost found replaced like baggage. Filled with love hate need. The need to be read shared understood. They cannot stay under wraps under your wing underappreciated. If you love them, begin the journey, set them free.
Ode To Cigarette Adonis
I’d like to make it explicitly clear that I am not a smoker and this poem is a glamorization of something that happened this one time…. Ode To Cigarette Adonis You slip outside, Cigarette in delicate hand, And your perfect lips Pull a pouty puff. You tap the ash away, And I feel it cry Anguished at the loss Of your closeness. I thank the fates Your languid draws Draw out my time To bask in your glory. I take furtive glances, Least the heavens Punish me For daring to stare At their most precious. You take your last drag,…
mama doesn’t want to grow old
mama doesn’t want to grow old. bones breaking, mouth drooling, jaw slack, some one to clean you change you chew and swallow for you. mama saw her mama whither. prisoner of her feeble body, jailed by her failing mind. a sliver of a shadow of her former self. mama doesn’t want to lose her mind or be trapped as her body crumbles. mama wants me to cut her off to unplug her to give her the red pill and release her. but mama doesn’t think about after mama doesn’t think about me. because when they ask ‘where’s your mama?’ i’ll…
Muse
I sent this to The Student Press one time and it got published and people nearly exploded tryna maco who it was about… I said it was about no one because they wouldn’t quite understand, but whatever… Muse Amuse me Confuse me Bemuse me Till you consume me Anything, Just don’t refuse me
Art
paint splattered on walls, pavement. handprints, assprints, cover stop signs cars. but murals, graffiti, remain untouched. artists never defile art.
Deadly Sins
I want you. I want all of you, I long for your lips and body against mine, And I don’t want to share you. I want you all to myself. I covet my neighbour’s time with you, I envy any look that’s not for me. What’s stopping me, Keeping me chaste? Maybe it’s pride, But I’d give in to you in a heartbeat, So maybe not. Cowardice isn’t a deadly sin, But it should be.
New Frontier
So funny story about this poem… The timestamp for the creation is the 5th of august 2008. See what had happened was I started this poem and just never finished it… I couldn’t quite find the direction I wanted it to go in, until one night, the fevers of writing possessed my brain, (lol whut??), and it came to me. And so on the 22rd of September 2010, in the late hours of the night, I finally freakin’ finished the poem. And here it is in it’s longsuffering glory. The title is a work in progress. Give it a year…