Literary Cluster Pt .5

I. When you wish upon a star
no one tells you its a sham
makes no difference who you are
the whole thing is just a scam

II.
Just because I’m not heard
doesn’t mean I’ll resort to silence
There is always violence
But it spurs no results so I’ll
pursue the enlightened guidance
that I’m provided
Instructed to scream it all out
and without out a doubt
I’ll attract tons of nonsense
It’ll reign on my conscience
That I have to be honest
Only one road to obtain solace
promises
I’m not just a novice
experience has shown me your hand
revealed all your plans
and risked your demands

III.

And I’ll take them to the grave
Every secret that I’ve saved
Of all the hidden wrongs and rights
And hasty choices that I’ve made
The consequences made me brave

IV.
How do I let go if I didn’t know I was holding on in the first place?
How do I forget those chocolate brown eyes
if I didn’t notice I memorized your face?
How do I erase memories that changed who I am and everything I have become?
How do I live with pretending to know nothing of who you are or where you’re from?

V.

Hey there sour puss

What’s with the puckered face

Got your self a taste of bitter

In this wicked, wicked place

Tongue a little pinched and punched

Eyes squint, filled with wet despair

Mindless drones will send you home

But its no better there

VI.
I caught a flight down to Georgia
tried to get my bearings back
Stepped off the plane and felt the
heat trickle from my forehead to my collar bone
It was muggy
But it meant I felt something
Something other than the arrow to my
heart
because all I ever feel is pain
Its the easiest thing to feel
So there I was
standing in what I could only assume some
form of hell felt like
Dehydrating flames
Draining my moisture without movement
and all I could think to do was
get back on that plane and face everything
that I was running from

Literary Clique Pt. 3?

In similarity of a past habit, please find below a bundle of my latest musings deemed incomplete, but complete enough:

Little Reminders
What’s anything less than the black and red
flames burning beneath a tepid ground
dancing like hell bent lovers against her
precious stained flesh
a dry black puddle sat careless and bold
the reminder that the past leaves a mark

Troublesome
“Break it, I dare you”
a giggle like an old photo crept across her face
“go on, go on”
big brown eyes piercing into the sun, only for a moment
“I’ll take all the blame”

Repeat
Say it again and again one more time
I don’t think I can understand
the words don’t sound, and they look all weird to my ears
and can we talk about that weird smell

So please say it all again and again one more time
and maybe this time I’ll get it
my undivided is given, I swear, there are no distractions
except that pesky smell, really what is that

Stuck
Bound to the earth by
a heavy weight
enough gravity and exhaustion
to ensure no movement

Crystallizing Moments: i.

My personal project to help my writer’s block. I will be writing and posting a series of snippets or “scenes” throughout the week in the form of paragraphs  or poetry (maybe a couple drawings) to help fuel my literary flow. I hope you find as much pleasure in reading them as I do writing them.

And he said,

“I hate him like a brother. Like- he is annoying as hell and sometimes I want to punch him, but at the end of the day, I’d walk through fire for him.”

His eyes stared at the red hot moon lounging in the sky, another day closing to its end.

Poetic Bust

A sprinkle of poems I’ve rendered incomplete & mostly horrible, but by no means a secret. What fun is it to put out only my best work? Enjoy…or not 🙂

1].
I’m as fluid as the lies I tell
Its water under the bridge
At least for me it is

2].
I’ll whisper those clichéd sweet nothings
Melt your heart and dry your tears
Steal away your deepest pains
Replace them with your greatest fear
Con you into real emotion
Sew your heart upon your sleeve
Ensure you of my devotion
To see that you’ll never leave

3]. Bon Appetit
Desperation
Cut throat agony
Watching from the corner
Your beady eye scanning the room
Anticipating a rival
Yet you notice not the rival in me until we meet in the middle
A dare to make the first move threatened mutually
Quick, a swift slip to the hip
my fork drawn barely seconds before your own
You walked away, defeated, ogling the chocolate delicacy being shoveled between my lips
Bon appetit

4].
Where do I start if not from where I left
As the habit of completion feeds my motives to push on
I learned from movies that quitters make it as far as the length of the nails
As a lack of effort destines failure
So here I find myself again
Back where I’ve started once before
But a newly done manicure ensures I’m in it for the long haul

5]. Easy Lies
Have you a second, kind Sir
To spare for a poor gent as I
Pockets empty, feet bare
But a bold mind makes me rich
I couldn’t help but notice a smudge showing on your watch
I happen to know exactly how to rid you of such an eyesore
Oh, don’t you worry Sir
I’ll have it back to you this time tomorrow

The Promise Of Tomorrow

The only constant he knows is change,
all matters of before critically varied
just as no day replays the same.
He’s learned the reliability of time;
tuned to chameleon tendencies.
No surrounding too new for his becoming
lest fooled by the creatures he walks among;
a sly tongue, his crippling fear.
For the chance of being unprepared
is not desired, not ideal;
a glance to his watch fastened tight
reminded that his trust is still relevant;
that tomorrow promises an alternative to now
and grants yesterday a fog,
a blurred out memory cached deep into a crevice in the lump of noodles occupying the top of his form,
and for that he’s always thankful.

Again With the Literary Clique

A few unnamed pieces that needed a group home, so to speak.

[1].
I stuffed my life into three boxes,
changed the locks on all the doors,
emptied out the hallway closets,
tossed the lit match on the floor,
hurried to my packed car waiting,
looked back just in time to see,
flames exploding and creating
ash of all my history.

[2].
Whats the sense in running
when your legs are made of steel?
You’ll get no where fast, my dear
and tire out before your problems catch up,
You say you’ve no support
For the problems that exist
But I’ve been here all along, my dear
Waiting patiently, content, inside your mind
Reminding you that you haven’t been alone for a long time

[3].
Combed over in exhaustion,
his eyes burned from deprivation,
the rest he craved wouldn’t be found,
as the need to survive weighed more dire.
Late nights overdosed on caffeine
diluted with sugars and creams;
a shaky diet left him frail and sickly,
often attacked by the germs of the gents he came into contact with.
Unguided advice from strangers for options awakened an anger he hadn’t faced since he’d made his first bad choice.
Sun up,
Sun down,
he revisited the place he hated;
the only place that offered him a chance to survive long enough to let himself live.

[4].
It can’t be helped
The way she loves me
I’m all she’s got after all
She means well
And I hear others whisper
Telling her that one day I’m going to leave her
Telling her that I’m no good
Sneaking in the lies that I’ll betray her
blur her vision and skew her thoughts
in between each kiss we share
they stare
gawking in disbelief that its been years
In awe of our loyalty to one another
Down to every drop
I just hope she realizes more sooner than later
That I can be trusted much less than the percentage printed on my label

The Shade of Honesty

Little Lucy was only four when a miracle struck her good.
“I can see it!” she proclaimed,
“I can see the truth of all colors.”
While her mother guzzled down the bottle of what she called her medicine to life
“And that Brown,”
Little Lucy whispered pointing to the liquid thrusting down her mother’s throat,
“isn’t as reliable as it feels.”
Wandering to the adjacent room, her luck arose again.
“I can see it!” she exclaimed,
“I can see the truth of all colors.”
While her father scrubbed at the lipstick stains on his shirt
“And that Pink,”
Little Lucy whispered pointing to the lip outline tritely placed on his collar,
“isn’t as loving as it feels.”
She made her way outside where she relished the happy glow of the Yellow sun being cradled in the trusting arms of the wide Blue sky.
The bang of her neighbor’s door caught her attention.
“I can see it!”, she exclaimed,
“I can see the truth of all colors.”
While her neighbor wiped the blood from his knuckles and ignored the weeping pouring from the open window nearby.
“And that Red,”
Little Lucy whispered pointing towards his oozing wound,
“isn’t as courageous as it feels.”
And little Lucy skipped away, admiring each color all the while.

Scribbled Somethings

Unsure of where they’ll end up,
I wrap my words tight,
binding them in the safest leather the market could offer.
The fate of their perception variant on the minds of the masses
and their untrustworthy opinions that will inevitably dictate their life sentence,
or lack there of.
Precious evidence of my servitude to the muses coat the bleached sacrifices of the brave birches scattered along the banks of the
Great Lakes.
Doubtful of acceptance amongst my peers, I make the hard choices.
Neatly, carefully, I tuck my collection of brilliance deep beneath the rich soil.

Literary Clique

A group of various poems that I feel are too short for their own post, so I jammed them all in one.

[1]. “What can I do
to become relevant again?”
I ask to my audience of zero,
as I find myself alone once more.

[2]. She had the frame that shook the world with envy
Eyes more furtive than a true magician
And when strangers approached her rather gently
She’d slice their throats and store them in her kitchen

[3]. No, he doesn’t know that I haven’t been sure for a while
And he won’t if its left up to me
I haven’t the heart to tell him
that I’m not who I used to be.

[4]. Splattering the room like a pot of dropped water,
the blood pours from the gaping wound atop the left of my breast
I don’t feel the maggots nestling beneath my aortic valves
To feel would imply that I am not numb
When I’ve been drunk on pain for as long as I can remember

[5]. They’ll look, they’ll stare as if I’m on display
though I’m merely strolling the sidewalks of the city
“Did you see that?” they’ll laugh as they turn to walk away
Oblivious that my differences make me feel pretty

[6]. Cobwebs in the afternoon trap my nightmares
Feasted on the spiders of the day
Catching flies in payment of our timeshare
A deal made when the devil comes to play

[7]. I’ll grab you by the neck in a cold attempt
to finish you
Your body, stiff, and doesn’t expect a polite
conversation
We’ll engage, there’s no time for introductions
Throwing your hat to the floor, your jugular sweat
running down the tips of my fingers
I force you towards my face
With no resistance from you,
and down your suds without a hint of regret.
A satisfying belch and a slammed fist to the table
signifies to your keeper that I’m ready for another.
“Another brewski, will ya?”