Lift Off

Sadly based on a true story. Rest in peace, its been 3 years and I still think about you often. 
 

She soared, my God did she fly!

Air under her arms, you shoulda seen her!

On the edge, over the ledge

Escaping a cage that she knew wouldn’t free her.

Believe her, that’s all she ever wanted,

A leader, that’ll never find her calling

The situation’s daunting,

If you’d only seen her, she wouldn’t be falling.

Tall and lanky,

Far from empty,

With a big ol’ heart

And was sorta campy

Sore from ranting,

Constantly picked on

For her height and smarts

Till she was more than antsy.

Gawking awkward,

Ate lunch at her locker

Surrounded by a roster of monsters

We lost her.

Can you believe we lost her?

Sorrows tide came along and washed her.

Imposter monsters

Sucking the venom

Off their own fangs

It’s so strange,

It’s so strange

How some can parade others around with no shame

And getting involved

Ain’t our forte.

It’s profane,

How some can string others along with no shame

And force them to hold pain

 

I’m no saint,

I was never was the spark

But more like the gas that flowed from the propane.

Don’t get it twisted, I’m no saint

I never teased her but I may be guilty of much worse

I showed her kindness

But I used to run the other way like a thief with a stolen purse

Like she wasn’t worth it,

Like it had more of a purpose

If you only heard this, I’m sorry,

You were worth it only I was worthless

Close the curtains; there ain’t nothing a closed door won’t hide

Smiling like it’s so fine, it’s sad when a soul dies

Obsessed with Facebook,

Yet we never noticed her profile.

Stained with pain and pangs of shame

Like if we ignored it, everything will be okay

How we broke her balls like croquet

All the while jabbing needles in her like crochet.

She didn’t jump

So much as we pushed her, led her by the hand,

Head spinning like a twister, God kissed her

Then we collectively changed our statuses to how we missed her.

Sycophantic

I’m sick and frantic,

Quick to panic

Cuz I’ve been there too.

The curse of my mind

Left me flirting with knives

And the serpent it hides,

Yes, I’ve been there too.

What goes up must come down

But what’s down

Can’t come back up

Funny how gravity works.

 

The king of rock bottom,

See, insanity hurts

And sanity’s worse

Watching as the fallacy burst.

There was no way for me to write this

Without sounding preachy

And I’m beyond cheesy

But when I came close to the edge,

I felt like you were there to reach me

There to teach me.

Like “Boy, get off it,

It aint your time for coffins.

The rock and hard place will soften

Regain your confidence,

It ain’t fair you lost it”

But I’m so exhausted.

I won’t lie,

I smile but I’m far from fine

Succumbed to the same issue

That cost her life.

She caught that flight,

We can’t change it now,

Running out of time

I see the clocks in sight.

We miss you now,

Amidst the hounds

I’m sorry

And I hope you found your wishes now.

Forget gravity laws,

You’re with God now.

Shut your eyes and fly,

This time you won’t hit the ground.

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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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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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