This configuration of barbed wire, ambitions, and intentions
Draw out new adversaries where there should be rest
And sleeplessness is my only companion
I aspire while trying to inspire
My voice is a weak puff of air
Yet I know that I’m heard
If even so slightly
But sometimes,
It’s hard.
All posts in verse
that’s what she said
fifth Quarter
These dreams, these fiends, these tweens and cut scenes
Expectations of mere titles and necessities of a spleen
These winter Monday’s in June are reminiscent of a fifth quarter
Should I slay myself again or ask a bigger God to expand my borders?
These sorrowed nights and broken glass and drafts from underneath
Give greater cause to perpetuate and greater cause to do more than be
These falls, these stalls, these empty halls and caterwauls
Apprehension’s got me hopeful while my bladder has the gall.
insomnia
Insomnia has become my mistress tonight
Am I the only one she has left alive?
Darkness as sheets covering millions who lie
Me, I can no longer fathom the day from the night
Thoughts of my past and my now and to come
It’s the past that has shaped me of what I now sum
I’m heavy and burdened and she won’t let me sleep
I don’t recall asking her over for a nightcap or tea
My sons and my friends and those who barely missed the mark
They haunt me as ghosts as shadows in the dark
My phone is not speaking but I query anyway
It never suffers silence like this during the day
Insomnia wont leave me as if she’s some hesitant cur
The lines twixt imagination and reality are in post stages of blur
Thoughts rage past me and circle seven times
Leaving me crumpled in corners and opposite the sublime
And kings and queens don’t regard how my story will end
I wonder who will read it and will it sell more than ten
The screams of traffic are muted and all colors are grayed
The tether that once held me is now thinning and frayed
Alcohol or pills or distraction numbs her touch
But I resist the lure to trade a mistress for a dime store slut
So eventually she will tire of me and leave me be
And let me sleep and tire of me be and soon I’ll dream and…
placebo
All due respect to grandfathers and amoebas,
Yellow bunnies, crosses, and ill-fated placebos
But that pink pill won’t calm you, it makes you cough
And that blue pill will arouse you then turn you off,
That horse pill brings restlessness and facial fuzz
And that white, tiny square one – I forgot what it does
Substitutions, placebos, colored eggs, and denials
Thinking to blaspheme and giving praise all the while
With some celebration of Life or Fertility’s egg
Covered idols in chocolate then off with his head
How hollow this apostasy, how empty this ruin
How can not saying His name lead to any congruence?
What is this atrocity that the King is still dead?
The Most High is down low and covered in dread?
Maybe He’ll resurrect from some brightly painted egg?
Sarcasm, lies, and substitutes are akin to vomit, bile, and red.
Long live the living King who redeemed us when He bled
And there can be no placebo… it is written and said.
“The sting in any rebuke is the truth” – Benjamin Franklin
color therapy
I stuck my hand in a thorn bush
To follow what was free
Then painted a pretty picture
With the color that would bleed
I sat on the doctor’s couch
And he said to stay in the lines
I told him he was ash to me
My colors won’t be confined
My offspring are as promises
Pigments in rich oil
My imagination, she always sits with me
Through calmness and through toil
People see all my colors
And they often do assume
That a rainbow would seem pale near me
But they’re so far from the truth
Color brings and freedom rings
And hope is a fragile seed
Ask not for whom the bell tolls
The bell, it tolls for “we”
This chromatic facade that alludes to God
In tints and hues alike
I complete the “we” and we water the seed
And the seed is filled with life
I stuck my hand in a thorn bush
Screaming, “Would you look at me”
Then colored another page
In this therapeutic scene.
love songs 4 no 1
Four walls and an echo
Down a long and distant hall
Four intents and no passenger
And a self-constructed wall
Three beats and then waiting
For the time to pronounce my vow
Three strikes and then debating
Should I forfeit the game right now?
Two seats yet filled to capacity
Did she save a seat for me?
Two ballads have made me restless
And their cadence won’t set me free
One candle seems too solitary
Me, myself and eyes are under strain
The fine print of my love songs are contrary
To life’s context and catchy refrain
Blank pages in an athenaeum
And the moon without her sun
For still I write these love songs
For a million and no One.
——————————————-
seven eight nine
Seven eight nine, this that and the third
The dog ate my homework, eight subjects and no verb
The cart is pulling the horse and other musings so absurd
Am I being too abstract or just layering the fact that I’m perturbed?
Why do today what you can put off tomorrow?
Why feel better now, when in sorrow you can wallow?
If Jesus walks on water again then maybe you will follow
If Nietzsche lives next door to you, my faith I’ll let you borrow
I can’t count on my fingers, I’ve got more sense than that
I can’t count on my money, it all goes to buy more fat
What was that I said about being too abstract?
Seven eight nine and other punchlines, does this verse make me look fat?
a moment of silence
My flag is at half mast
I ripped my garment for thee
My ashen face is downcast
And several doves have been released
Sixty seconds to respect
Much less seconds to be born
And a lifetime to reflect
On life for which to mourn
The bells, they toll for thee
And the rain allays the ground
The earth invites you back
From whence you first were found
My flag is still at half mast
It’s due my time to grieve
While not preventing living.
A moment of silence for thee.
thank you for freedom
Today is Veteran’s Day and I want to thank all of those who have bravely served our country through military service. You are true heroes. Thank you for the sacrifice.
the art of Obama
I just had to share this blog that aims to document the outpouring of artwork inspired by Obama’s message of hope, change, and his image itself. Enjoy!
And if you haven’t voted… pitch a tent tonight at your polling location and help make history tomorrow.
