Son of a...

Born with a big mouth,

Brought up with an even bigger opinion,

Decent from great minds,

History runs in my blood,

From the slave trade to Hitler.

212 degrees, boiling point never felt so hot.

My blood boils,

Heat the moment.

Race,

Sex,

Orientation.

Shut your big mouth girl.

Congested, stuffy nose like.

As stubborn as I am,

I have weak knees for a good arguement.

Straight edge for the right answer.

I need to "watch it."

Everyday conversation anymore-

Anymore with me is censored.

Always worried about being "politically correct."

Anything with the slightest slip...

POOF!

Men, women, childeren,

Race of every kind.

Empowers my brain.

Takes over my body,

Hatred for races.

I hate gay pride.

CENSOR!

Not a conversation topic,

Not to be discussed at work.

"I'm sorry, you're fired."

Shut your big mouth girl.

Opinions aside,

Hatred away...

But, but wait-

I can't call you the

Bleep word...I would be raciest

You can call me a bleep word-

My people in-slaved you-

Fists up,

White power,

No, no, no!

Not at the employment office!

If I knew what was good for me...

Dang, I'd still have a job.

disappeared

Hey Big Brown Beautiful Boy...
I wanna hear from you,
where you been?
have you fallen off the bus that gave you to us?...
sing me a song! surely i'm wrong
in assuming
that you've disappeared?

The Post Office Has Gone Broke.

I remember

Rich telling me

that you've got to send

mail

to get

mail.

Even when I send

mail

the bonds between friends

enter the ends

but there's no help for that

and I will never

be 

what you're looking for

, though

, I will sometimes 

appear that

way.

My best friends

: I have

Never met

, and Never will.

They are all dead.

And I might

be too.

~Fermented grapes tonight. generic words.

Plain love,

Digress.

Colour Me Pedantic.

I've been wondering

about the concepts

and the basics

you have a tendency

to miss.

And the way

you cannot

formulate

Iambs in Octameter

or Pyrrhic Dimeters

you cannot crochet a trochee

into the lines of a tercet.

Soliloquies and metaphors

on the zenith of an anapest

could make you

the best.

Byronic irony

with a simple Spondee

could

set your style free.

But the lessons

evade

whilst you sit and degrade

the thoughts you

can't formulate

or begin to comprehend.

So is this the end?

Not for you

friend.

~This might be one of the last.

Spent,

Digress.

No Help.

I cannot be anything

I once was

.

.

.

And I've been writing a tragedy.

~Drink your tea.

Apologetic,

Digress.

Let Me Love You

The windshield wipers sway back and forth to the beat of your awful music.
I listen to it, trying to figure out what strums you.
I already know that I'm going to get caught up in you. I can feel it.
The wipers tell me to build a wall, bind my heart to the inside of my chest. They tell me to get out of the car, get out while I'm still ahead.
We finally pull over. Still the rain pounds on the pavement below us.
You slide closer to me, i breath in your smokey, cinnamon sent.
You hand has a mind of its own, it places its self upon my quivering thigh,
my heart instantly skips a beat, my lungs rise and fall at a rapid pace,
my brain racing back to memories of your past, light bulbs flickering telling me not to be in love with you. You are a train wreck. Your soft, unmanly voice brings me back to your attention. Those blueberry eyes piercing my face, they keep me warm. You lean in for a kiss, my eyes are shut neatly as you dig in. I cant breath, I have to pull away. Instantly your body is in idle. Look into my eyes baby, let me tell you everything.
If I could only tell you that I love you everything would be okay. But I cant tell you, you told me not to fall for you, was I supposed to hit the ground running? Attachment, isn't that love? Did you not tell me you were in love with me? You say I'm not allowed to want to be in love with you. You stress me with your unspoken thoughts. You love me, just tell me from your soft, weather wore, secret kept, lying lips. There is hope. I am here for you. I'm not here to fix you, only make you better. You never carry around your baggage, and I'm not here to carry it for you. Listen to me look into your eyes, let me tell you the words to heal your soul. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved.

Corruption.

We've been sitting in your car for hours

jam-packed in a heat of hormones.

Smoking cigarette, after cigarette

after cigarette.

With each drag, your eyes drag too.

Drag me in, with your

big smile, doe eyes.

I smell corruption.

Wander into the house, down the stairs.

Gradually into the covers.

My hand grasps for your hand, 

my experience grasps for your innocence.

No turning back, there is no retreat.

I love the softness of your lips.

It irons out the wrinkles of mine,

irons out the imperfections, the scars of lovers past.

Your innocence makes me feel pure.

Whole.

Me again.

And I love you for it.

And I smother you with all the passion 

that I can pull up from inside.

A haze of intoxication, a cloud of disinigration 

from what I wanted, and now 

what I need.

It's 3 am on a Sunday morning.

The Lord's day.

And here I am, breathing heavy, intertwined  

between sheets and legs

and his eyes.

And never wanting anything

anywhere

anyone else.

But you.

You are young, but so am I.

The world that you've shown me is young

and beautiful.

You've shown me that again.

Embraced, saved, loved me.

And I love you for it.

stop.

you drove me on. stop.
you let me become blind. stop.
my heart paralyzed. stop.
my lungs collapsed. stop.
God as my witness. stop.
youre a fool. stop.
im the best. stop.
you.[pause] will.[pause] never.[pause] love.[pause] again.[pause]stop.
dearest love of mine, stop.
forever will your soul rot, stop.
not to long before your heart will melt, stop.
before you miss me, stop.
remember that the sight
or sound of your name, stop.
makes me gag, makes me die, stop.
just before you put me on my death bed, stop.
just before you turn off my liberating machine, stop.
i will haunt you in your dreams, stop.
forever thine stop.
forever mine. stop.
fornever ours. stop.
stop.
yours truly.
stop.

force-fed

you are that person who claims me, that smile that trains me
to come back
you hold my breath in your lips, like the smoky tips falling from the ash tray
and oh baby the way
mmmmm that way you climb through the jungle of my mind and tap tap tap
on my cranial hemisphere to make sure that I HEAR
you walk away
and I
let you
but oo darlin you know my limit and you dance within it
just to see
and now that feelin I got, that hot steamy sensation...that elation of being THE creation you sought
is
emptying out my chest cavity and plundering my soul, peeking at my hand and telling me to fold
so I quit, I'm out, I'm not fit for your game
it's the same fight the same sorries the same sex
every night and despite my obsession with our passion
....
you aren't worth it

so forget you, yeah baby it's true I'M leaving YOU
no threats no games no mind-blowing names screaming at the top of my lungs or climbing the ladder rungs daring you to save me, no tests of your devotion or begging for emotion
in your eyes

you'll find it's lonely here alone without me

Saturday.

Saturday night, Poisonous, if you know what I mean. Black eyeliner, deep blush. Red cups, Music so loud we speak with our eyes. Dancing on the wood floors, I've never felt so alive. Experimenting. My blurred eyes match my blurred thoughts. My skin is hot, it's uncontrollable. Trash talk. Girl Talk. Bathroom Talk. Stumbling, Swaying - Falling, falling fast. Pictures to remember the night, cause our brains can't. Real People. Fake People. Two People. Sunday Morning seems so far, 2AM and we can't stop. 3AM, still going'. We won't crash. Cigarette smoke fills the air - My lungs too. Loud voices, small whispers, music singers. Undeniable thoughts. Unbelievable actions. Incredible Passion.




Remember, the loudest person in the room is also the weakest.

Time To Laugh

The Terrible Television has been living in front of your eyes for quite some time. I've been behind your screen waiting for the right theme, a new format: laughing at your door mat: WELCOME, well, they seldom come. I've been on the edge of the seat waiting for the right time to give you all a good treat. Something ironic, something secretly sardonic, but you can't drink the gin in my tonic. I grew a new backbone, found a new tone, and distributed some sound straight to your dome.

The Terrible Television is the source of all information, keeping track of every single station. I know what you watch and I know what you staunch. You draw the line at news and information but when the lies flow you get a-ragin'.

The Terrible Television is the new-world vision: the pristine package of all those who are livin'. I'm a new format of symbolism, in every home and inspiring every poem. A new way to stay at home to roam. Time to escape to the land of the free on-demand movie, you have until Tuesday. 

I am the Terrible Television, bringing to you the news, bringing to you the information that you choose.

~April fools.

Sorry,

Digress.