UNTITLED
How could I say "yes" to her, without first saying "yes" to myself?
The monument that was falsely constructed out of unreciprocated passion has been torn; the foundation stands yet it is not grand enough for the structure set to replace.
There is another vacant space unoccupied by wilted feelings with a sign from the owner that says "Yes!"
I have finally been liberated from the cluthes of a beautiful unknowing pseudotormentor and now I can breath and when I exhale, I can believe in YES!
SWEET WATER
Give up your seat for the women on the bus.
Hold the hands of little children who are lost in this generation.
The world can be an ugly place when the devil is the conductor of your train.
The way you hold the door open for strangers angers demons.
Donate a dollar to the decrepit homeless, conscience of the temptations that lure you on every corner.
Who grabs your outstretched hand?
We love to reach for open hearts.
The world can be a beautiful place when peace is the constructor of your brain.
When you share a meal, somewhere in the world a fire burns out.
Turns out, those good deeds feed and nourish those in need of the sweet water you drink.
Showing posts with label Poetry.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry.. Show all posts
5.08.2010
3.19.2009
Beautiful Notes Are Forever.
What's all this applause about?
I'll blend in with the audience and take a seat
whistle and clap for the feature presentation.
I'm anxious to see whats hidden beneath the darkness of those velvet curtains.
The curtains are drawn and the music begins.
Slow jazz with the melody of a sour saxophone.
Black and white as a young kid and his older brother slowly place together parts to a scenic puzzle.
Parents arguing in the background.
Blurred out as to show the audience whats most important.
The jazz notes continue as a soft piano slowly rises.
The curtains close and once they open, a new scene appears.
The two kids are now older as they open their presents on a cold Christmas morning in their pajamas. One parent there to record the excitement on camera. Merry is this morning indeed but something still feels empty.
The jazz speeds up as drums start to bang and trumpets blare.
Still frames of the two kids with smiles flash by the screen. I caught one where the youngest is crying and the oldest is hugging him, as if to shelter him from any danger.
And now the jazz stops as the most powerful frame is displayed. A mother, with sweat on her forehead, tears in her eyes and blood under her feet. Holding the hands of two men. The background, the world seems to be crumbling behind them. And they hold still, as if to show nothing can penetrate their bond. An indestructible force of three. The mother and sons are still holding hands and aging. Two beautiful women appear on each sides of the men each holding infants in their arms. A new world sets in behind the growing family.
Curtains close.
A spotlight shines on me and the crowd begins to applaud and cheer. They cheer for my story. They cheer for my fight. They cheer for my growth.
The jazz symphony has yet to stop.
The beautiful notes are forever.
I'll blend in with the audience and take a seat
whistle and clap for the feature presentation.
I'm anxious to see whats hidden beneath the darkness of those velvet curtains.
The curtains are drawn and the music begins.
Slow jazz with the melody of a sour saxophone.
Black and white as a young kid and his older brother slowly place together parts to a scenic puzzle.
Parents arguing in the background.
Blurred out as to show the audience whats most important.
The jazz notes continue as a soft piano slowly rises.
The curtains close and once they open, a new scene appears.
The two kids are now older as they open their presents on a cold Christmas morning in their pajamas. One parent there to record the excitement on camera. Merry is this morning indeed but something still feels empty.
The jazz speeds up as drums start to bang and trumpets blare.
Still frames of the two kids with smiles flash by the screen. I caught one where the youngest is crying and the oldest is hugging him, as if to shelter him from any danger.
And now the jazz stops as the most powerful frame is displayed. A mother, with sweat on her forehead, tears in her eyes and blood under her feet. Holding the hands of two men. The background, the world seems to be crumbling behind them. And they hold still, as if to show nothing can penetrate their bond. An indestructible force of three. The mother and sons are still holding hands and aging. Two beautiful women appear on each sides of the men each holding infants in their arms. A new world sets in behind the growing family.
Curtains close.
A spotlight shines on me and the crowd begins to applaud and cheer. They cheer for my story. They cheer for my fight. They cheer for my growth.
The jazz symphony has yet to stop.
The beautiful notes are forever.
3.08.2009
A Tattoo On Her Neck Reads "Illuminate My..."
Are you complacent?
Sitting there, alone and quiet.
Sagacious eyes
Nonchalantly telling the story of loneliness.
I've seen you here before.
Your beauty stirs up the room and
Your storm brings a powerful attraction.
You move only to drink your liquor
And it is with much elegance.
You're very discreet, yet very deceptive
And those lies are the passion
Behind my approach to the darkness
Where you sit.
Your black dress fades into the shades with every step I take
Until you're finally gone by the time I sit down.
You were never here.
Sitting there, alone and quiet.
Sagacious eyes
Nonchalantly telling the story of loneliness.
I've seen you here before.
Your beauty stirs up the room and
Your storm brings a powerful attraction.
You move only to drink your liquor
And it is with much elegance.
You're very discreet, yet very deceptive
And those lies are the passion
Behind my approach to the darkness
Where you sit.
Your black dress fades into the shades with every step I take
Until you're finally gone by the time I sit down.
You were never here.
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