Thursday, December 1, 2011

Bop and Weave

Edited the poem twice so far, felt there was parts that dragged it. I feel its more fluid like now. Break ups suck.

There’s a fire in my stomach
And a weight on my chest
Blood in my throat
And pain in my neck

When we met, she had pretty lips,
Button nose, and large eyes,
Where I swear, stars hide
Masking her hard life.

She was hunger pains
And I was her pair of slit wrists;
It’s the nature of the beast.

The nature of my disease,
Display it in microfiche
Impatient the darkness pleads
So it can depart released.

She folds her cards,
I fold her origami
We were both broken folks,
I’m on the ropes,
And she attacks with the force of Ali.

Bop and weave,
Bop and weave,
You got no time to stop and grieve
Lost in these
Oddities
You have no time to stop and breathe

See, she was a damsel in distress
And I was her beast with three heads
Who reels in regrets,
Reveals his defects

Who needs a recess
And fiends a reset
Of peace when we met.

She was my guest of honour
And I was happily
Her Thanksgiving Turkey

Carve me,
Harm me,
Fifteen slices on three
 I’m her zombie
Whose heart is off beat
And as black as her coffee.

So here,

Take these razor blades and play
The violin on my heart strings
Of all the pretty dark things
Knitting their sharp jinx.

I’m hurtin’ bad,
Covered in purple scabs
I heard her laugh

And cursed the past
Travelling the Wordsmith path,
Trying to find the purpose that purpose has

But

No laughing, what?
Pass the buck
And drink a cup of dragon’s blood

A maso-cust with graphic cuffs
And bastard’s luck
Drunk
Off caffeine cups.

She was Gabe’s trumpet
And I a fly of Beelzebub,
Who fiends this love

To feel its buzz
And weaned off lust,
Screamed and fussed,

The pieces lost
To feed the thoughts
Of how
He’s a nut!

Friends telling me
“Dude, just paint a smile on”
The silence born and living well
Revealing our fears.

With kindness gone,
We try to soar,
No this aint Hell,
But you can see it from here.

And I’m going through withdrawals,
See I put it all on the line
And won’t hang up till Cthulu calls.

A porcelain doll
                Vs.
A puppet on a toy train

Weeping, depressed
With no one to pull his strings
Watch me
Sleep in my mess.

My God she was a pagan goddess
And I her burnt offering dude

I call for you,
And the awful truth,
Is what I did, do, and done
Was all for you.

Still feeling inadequately adequate,

Let’s pick at our tips till our fingers trail blood.

See this?

This is reminiscent of Slick Rick’s Teenage Love

But I know pain,
And I know pain
And sometimes
I share it with someone like you.

The embodiment of perfection,
“Sorry…” she says,
“Just try to remember, it’s not you…”
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Thursday, October 6, 2011

My September

It's been a bad month. New format though recommended by a colleague, the poem is just as long as they usually were but now it seems to flow better. Enjoy.


I watch as the cold air crept in,
Swept in,
A feeling more familiar than my best friend.
Inhale all the stress in my breast and
Lie in between the questions
And lessons.

Better hold your tongue,
Better yet,
Let it go.
Cuz sometimes things are better said.
And try to keep a level head
As you embark to kill the devil dead.
I heard God fed her dead,

And told them tales of how we lost it young.
And the apostles sung
Of all the awful monks,
Letting the sun burn their frost bit tongues.

But I know
That first hand,
There aint a mouth
Without a foot in it
But God knows.

Stumbling on the potholes
Of the cosmos, a lost soul
Making deals at the crossroads.

Going against massive odds,
A clown in Oz,
A fool with a crown of bronze

Masked and all.
Trying to find hope
In his passive doll,
An everlasting fall.

See,

You gotta take some X’s in this game of tic tac toes.
I’ll admit I’ll fold,
If I feel like I’ve been dealt a bad hand.
Watch my climax unfold,
Cars might explode.
(You know, like them old action movies)

Anyways,

I’m hundred percent pure insecure.
Watch me turn my misery into art,
Or whatever else I make of it,
Whether a fateful wish
Or a hateful fist.
Ceramic wrap your head around this

Till you’re breathing heavy
And bleeding plenty.
Till we’re both acting extremely petty
And feeling empty.
Keeping steady,

As we do our little dance with the Devil as our instructor,

Harmless.
At least you’ll know where this honest artist’s heart is.
Caught in between,
Where the rocks are hardest.

Hardened,
Writing cuz it’s cathartic.
Cuz my days have been colder than the arctic.
Lethargic,
Standing in the middle of that biblical sea that Moses parted.

Let the little dogs bark,
They’re just mad they’re bitches,
Getting too big for britches.
Tell them to get the Hell out
Cuz it’s getting too hot
In this kitchen.

Let my eulogy be a reading of all the love letters I wrote.
Imbed it in hope
And my tomb stone cuz we all die it’s regrettably so.

Point at the golden casket,
It’s his fault.

Point at the hopeless pasture,
It’s his fault.

Point at the broken bastard,
It’s his fault.

Point at the sky,
It’s his fault.

Throw them looks in the mirror
As you tell me what shapes them clouds look like.
Reading your laugh lines under a book light,
How you spread those wax wings and took flight.

I might plan it
So I’ll wave goodbye as I ride the Titanic.
The right planet,
Continues to revolve as its life’s damaged.
Careful,
We might panic.

But we weren’t made to quit,
Like all the aimless did,
At least not until we’re famous rich.

So jump,

Jump into the flaming pit.
As our little black cloud
Turns rain to spit.

Dreamed till I woke,
Screamed till I choked.
Buck naked bathing in the red embers

Plead till I croaked,
See disease needs a host.
And that’s how I spent my last September.
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Thursday, August 25, 2011

A Life In Progress

This poem was the hardest to write but alas, I managed to get through it. I was debating on whether or not to post it but my girlfriend is amazing....so I did :).

The wrists scream and the veins obey, since sixteen, I’ve been afraid
Just a thin freak that spends his days in sheets trying to mend his grace
In many ways, these sins I face, will one day get me to Heavens gates
Looking for better days, I’ll enter as a renegade who mitigates
The situation at hand…it’s been a life in progress, a night in coffins
Trying not to let those thoughts in, I fight’em off while wondering where God went
Where God went, I wonder where God went? How long will he be gone?
Gotta focus on my concepts as I’m slowly singing my songs but it all goes wrong
I get the feeling he’s late, watching angels dance on the head of the blade
Reminding me of days when I used to get ostracized by the rest of the grade
Thrown in the brig, forced to live his school days as a troll under the bridge
Control is a bitch, holding the switch flipping it off and on knowing I’m sick
Call the apothecary; I’m forced to write a life where the plot is scary
Plus I piss in a pot I carry, living a life where the plot is scary
A lot’ll vary but at least it beats starring in a film by Tyler Perry
But when bills come, I feel like an easy chick that just dropped her panties
No disrespect to the ladies but it’s half your fault I’m here in the first place
Loneliness was the worst case scenarios of hurt came, why am I here in the first place?
Been told to go to Hell so many times, I smile and respond with a “funny,
At least where I’m going, it’s always sunny and the demons love me
And my stomachs always hungry, no different from Earth my little lovely
But at least, here, these Hell spawn won’t wear masks when trying to take something from me”
Some nights, I swear I could smell my flesh burn, yes sir, living as a blessed cur
Yes sir, and I’m not waking till I learn how this bed works, yearning for Death’s cure
Caught in cautious caution’s conscience gosh its contents got us unhappily smilin’
So we have to be wilin’, wear our masks and be silent, I bask in defiance
As an odd ball waiting for God’s call, I used to have a drive but it got stalled
Hiding my skeletons in my closet with the moth balls, thinking it’s a lost cause
The throat aches and the palms are sweaty; I carried this weight till it got too heavy
I bury the taste with a Gothic medley weary of where my thoughts might get me
Thank God for Hip Hop and comics, both of which were used for escapism
A world where the freak got the girl and I’ve always been a slave to the rhythm
Burning bridges till I had to cross’em and I can’t swim so I drown in my sorrows
Cursed with women and was ostracized for some time cuz of the path I followed
And I wonder why? See, I almost cut life but decided to give it another try
And let the caterpillars in my stomach develop into beautiful butterflies
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Tuesday, August 9, 2011

A Smiling Satan

Its been a long time, I shouldn't left you without a strong rhyme to step to

Satan smiles defiles savin, reconciles the sire’s wasteland
Up in isles, the fires we facin met denials of the lost and wasted
The cost was amazing, constantly dodging life’s bullets like Keanu Reeves
Lost to the Martix where black and white only coexist in piano keys
Pull it while it’s trying to leave, never kissed brown but Brown, Chris while Rihanna pleads
You know my steeze, the style with ease in a pile of fiends we aligned with thieves
We aligned with thieves trying to find our peace but our sighs released the signs of grief
The science of grieves and the violence of peace commingle to mangle the heart on our sleeves
But see, I ain’t political but if I ever met Harper I’d ask him about his dick size
Cuz he must be over compensating for something the way he wields these big lies
Still, with no insurance, we took the “common” out of common courtesy
Trying to drink up knowledge’s truth serum with every quart I see
On a course I weave trying my best to bring order to every court I see
Of course I’ll plead, watching roses wilt cuz they haven’t been watered in many days
But it really doesn’t matter because my baby loves daisies anyways
A heavy weight who weighs one-eighty-five in lips alone trying to grip the throne
Kill the king, pimp slap the prince while trying to kiss a stone, I missed my show
But the wind will blow past a winking innocence, singing in a fence
Sinking in my ship, thinking “this is it” but knowing I ain’t missing this
Oh how the sea was open, offering myself up to the queen of oceans
Cuz it seems it’s hopeless, where you can’t get the keys of life but the keys of dope and
With ease my opus needs my focus lovin livin livin livid
As an unhip hipster, the world’s funnest straight-edge, I stay dead livin timid
Thinking what I ain’t said swimming in a grave bed; I face debt while living in it
Used to refuse smiles, used to the noose wild, but I got a muse now, I’m grinnin
From ear to ear like the Joker but the truth is, even he can be sane sometimes
I’m sustained in punchlines, she’s a saint who done time in Hell but escaped the confines
My angel with a nose wrinkle, here to shower me with enough blessings
But I’m off topic; I was supposed to be asking all the tough questions
Like, why are our souls so empty? How come Fox’s media is so offending?
Mr. Jamaal, how the hell are you so trending?! But alas, I’m lost and antsy
And so our lives have become the equivalency of an unraked pile of leaves
So here we are, constantly dodging life’s bullets like Keanu Reeves
Up in isles, the fires we facin met denials of lost and wasted
Reconciling pyres in wastelands to up the styles of a smiling Satan

..............Yes I have succumbed to the "Matrix" reference :P
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Thursday, June 30, 2011

Speak! Performances (Masked Monkeys, Ice Falls, Life is Like)

Watch all three pieces I did at Ottawa's biggest and best coffee house Speak! Yeah, if you didnt come then you guys missed out on a good ass show. Alas, all is not lost, here are my performances! I better see you at the next one! Love and thanks goes out to Graeme "Loh El" O'Farrell for doing the camera work. For more poetry hit up http://www.youtube.com/user/EzraPoundLives 
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Sunday, June 19, 2011

Ever Wonder What My First Performance Sounded Like?

If you have then here it is. The first two poems I've ever performed... Came a long way since then. Enjoy, as this is kinda embarrassing for me to watch!

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Sunday, June 12, 2011

Angel Wings

Dedicate this to catharsis....

Have you ever seen an angel who cut both her wings off with her own hands?
So damned, mad at God cuz she figured out the bearded old man’s whole plan
She fell to live amongst man, around the time when I was lost believing nothin’
Lost and in need of lovin’, lost in my mother’s regular topic of discussion
“Lowlife”, “deadbeat” all for pursuing a form of art instead of a degree
So I decree, I’m never gonna stop and I’m making that into a creed
Mama, please forgive me cuz I’m gonna put my dream in an animation state
So suspended, you’d swear they were striking at Disney, competition please forgive me
Cuz if you try to get in my way then I’m chopping you down to mince meat
God please forgive me, I’m hoping one day you’ll finally be able to kiss me
See, I’m thinking of callin it quits, the hole in my heart has become a bottomless pit
Lost in a kiss and harmin’ its lips, caught in a fit in a garden of cists
But a Rombough once said that my art didn’t define me, I define my art
And I took that line to heart, in a rat race amongst all the lions and sharks
Where my demise is imminent, televised live on internet tellin’ lies
Of a little kid, I made this bed but I won’t lie, I’ll swim in it
Carving a crown of thorns into my own chest to remember how love aches
Sittin’ in a levee making mud cakes chanting “Someone release the flood gates!”
Cuz down here we all float, doctor or bum, don’t matter, we all drown the same way
And ultimately, in the end, we’re all slowly rushing towards the same fate
Save grace or save face, you can’t do both lose hope cuz we’re all living for the next day
A pawn facing a king can only be found in a chess game and it gets lame
Living for the city, I’ll be the first to admit, it gets sorta silly
When you find that I did all of this to get my slice of pie with expired filling
Cuz I don’t need to own a treasured whip, all I need is a clever quip
And I’ll treasure this equipped with metal fists, revel this cuz the pebble fits
Despite popular belief, this isn’t a poem about following your dreams
It’s more about how you maintain it when it starts to come apart at the seams
Trying to kiss an angel but it might be fatal, stealing light from her halo
Sinking in the same boat, I find hope is found at the end of a rainbow
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Thursday, June 2, 2011

Cement Shoes

Really don't know what to say about this one, I basically just let my emotions guide the pen. It should come with no surprise though, seeing how there's a heavy emphasis on emotions in this poem. Watch me dance with cement shoes on!

Tell em they can’t walk in my shoes cuz my souls are worn out living in a present past
Training myself to put my worst foot forward first so I can save the best for last
An impressive cat that learned early on in life never to resent its laps
And to this day the lesson last see I have this tendency to talk first & listen last
A motor mouth who soldiered out, living in his motor house
Trying to sort it out, I thought it out still missing what it’s all about
Missing what it’s all about so tell those two self righteous poets, I don’t need them to like me
So they can go to Hell cuz I’ve been there & back & that’s where I learned to be young & feisty
And how I learned to spit with a thirst so raw that it can’t be quenched with just any iced tea
So tell God to Skype me unless I’m crazy and I very well just might be
Tell those two self righteous poets that we never needed to be friends
Cuz when you lost it you find better company with the voices in your head
But they’ll remain nameless cuz I could talk so much s*** but my stomach would get upset
Then to win it back, I’d have to apologise for all the mean things I said
With my knees on the gravel, I’ll grovel to Gravol, still pass the paper
Cuz ever since I dropped out, this rascal’s major has been to draft a paper
That’ll historically rival Pascal’s wager but the future has more to see
And with zero potency, I’ll try to live on through my emo poetry
Singing my heart break to my crush like 

You be the princess,
I’ll be your monster
Have you met your prince yet? 
Could he be your martyr? 
I bet he ain’t artistic
Aimlessly I’ll wander, 
I wanna taste your lipstick
Instead I’m left with heart hurt

But she’ll turn away cuz I’m not much of a singer, still I’m singing harder
Till my tonsils sore, the Child’s missing the good old days of the console wars
If only Sega knew, if only Sega knew exactly what’s in store
But alas, we’re both obsolete, two 16 bit souls in a Black Ops age
And from what I hear, PlayStation’s all the rage I fall from grace, far from safe
So I draw blood to draw guns to draw love on a pad armed with crayons
The day’s long, feeling right at home with the blues & the paper I create on
My feelings are right at home, the resent, the reject, & my personal lament
Tell em they can’t walk in my shoes cuz these shoes are custom made of cement
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