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.

Insomnia

I'm choosing my muse, the one I’m ready to abuse.
And running mad confused left me staring straight at you.
Accusing my shoes for the heart break that ensues.
And beating in a bruise for the hope that renews.
Dreaming of sleep,
but your scent stains my sheets,
And I’m trying to leave,
but your kiss makes me weak.
It competes with the grief of my downfall,
repeat.
And holding you in dreams,
finding time to delete.
Its defeat to discrete to be regarded as complete.
Staring at my feet and the concrete that they meet.
chalk up one more victory for trying to pretend.
it’s a shadow fading fast of what we all want to defend
In the end we'll make amends, and pour sand in our sheets,
To take us to that beach so we can finally fall asleep.
It's not that our dreams are haunted by our memories,
but that morning light is blaring
And it's breaking our integrity.

First draft, you'll see this again

Oh, How You Could

Oh,

how

you

could

think

that

certain

people

have

it

so

rough

that

you

would

never

be

able

to

live

one

mile

in

their

shoes

with

their

problems

is

beyond

me

.

Oh,

how

you

could

constantly

fail

to

recognise

the

tragedy

building

up

inside

us

at

every

turn

of

the

way,

at

every

tick

and

tock

of

the

timer

is

beyond

me

.

Oh,

how

you

could

forget

that

every

life

is

an

alarm

clock

set

and

waiting

to

pounce

spring-loaded

on

the

very

peaceful

sleep

of

life

.

.

.

~Lightning last night, burnt grasses this morning.

Love,

Digress.

Evidence.

pain in my pockets, agony in my shoes

another crucifixion of the abused

painful remorse seeking discourse

and i can't really grasp the course

navigation breakdown of the source

mental maps folded into aeroplanes

sitting on the ducts of totally sane

back in the bottle neck alleviating pain

leaving me bruised but still the same

quietly arranged, and quickly perplexed

not the sort of comment easy to interject

another foul play line drive up the middle

putting the unaware in the reigns of the saddle

portion size has grown beyond balance

fat communist cats running scared countries

harmonising contrapuntally with the disease

we've travelled east to west

protecting more hearts than brains in our chests

another victim of a jerry-built gerrymander

taxing society looking to someone to pander

another axe handle cherry chopping session

picking up pitch-black forks for this dimension

free men forced to bring knives to gun fights

blue men on the prowl to knock out lights

of bronze shining from sea to sea at night

it's a Lazarus of a task

stand up with your Guy Fawkes mask.

~Magna Carta, Parliment, 5 November 1605.

Love,

Digress.

Modus Operandi

waking up on a back road

broken glass breaks with a sad note

we had to try to get out of this mess

we forget that once we reach success

and pain is in the closet

the victims sit inside my pocket

high and tight, low and loose

another sorry person with a sorry excuse

writing letters in return

my fans will never be concerned

until i take the last step

and that's under the breath

waiting for intelligence

receiving no benevolence 

another tragedy at the hands of insolence

stepping to the cowardice

the earth shudders with complacency 

while humans destroy freedom with policy

we're sitting in the stew of social cacophony 

just another human tragedy.

~Here comes my friend.

Love,

Digress.

I Found Me Today.

Relationships.
What an utterance.
Mostly an affirmance.
This guy was dynamic,
insanely panoramic.
A cheater though,
A big boaster.
Promising Love?
Undreamed Of.
It was intense;
But thats past tense.
So I moved forth,
Improved, you could say.
This guy was older,
Never gave me the cold shoulder.
Driving down the street,
There I was complete.
Talked for hours;
Sitting through April showers.
Sound chilche?
Only in a heart felt way.
This guy was sensitive,
Not at all envasive.
Only on the inside;
though he always denied it.
Two years?
It disappeared.
Who am I now?
It was like taking a final exam.
Now, this one;
He was unpredictable,
Yet achiveable.
He said unforgetable words,
Asorbable.
Trust issues existed,
we never resisted.
Always consisted of..
Something, one thing;
Passion and desire,
like a line of fire.
It never really ended,
which isn't what I intended.
I stand here today,
Nothing works ones way.
But I found myself,
releived myself.
And i'm here to stay,
Without any delay,
Say hello to me, a woman;
It's a desire.
Here I Am,
Bold and confident for any man.

I Met Bukowski In The Mirror This Morning.

You can see

it in his

eyes that he 

has walked a 

few miles and

taken a few

lives;

had a few 

promises

broken

. His shoes are 

worn down and 

his face grown 

out;

starts every

day with a

hefty bit 

of pain so 

he smiles in 

a wince and 

stands with a

crooked back

. He can't sink

or swim he's 

not looking

to begin

just searching

for a way

to pack it

up today

. His here and

now is gone

with the

whisper of

the tongue

and beating

of a drum

clocked out

and stone cold

these are the

streets he roams

drunk and with

no home

. Beaten down

and out of

breath he tries

to repent

but his idea

of god never

gave him the

laude

. Nietzsche told

him this and

Nietzsche told 

him that

nothing was

ever good

enough to

attract

so he tried

to keep out

and tried to

be aware

of the kooks

hiding in

crannies

behind the

infamy

. Aware of

the defeat,

a dirtbike

on the street,

a social

submarine

sinking with

the dream 

. Where humans

had failed, he

would observe

from quite the

distance so

as not to

get perturbed

sitting still

with glass in

tow

. And I'm sure

that he could

have been my 

dad.

~Good-night Milwaukee. good-night Bukowski--you'll never need to understand.

Love,

Digress.

"graduation."

We thought this year would be everything we asked for,
and just a little bit more.
But what we have come to see,
Is that was nothing more than false reality.
Our hops, our dreams, are slipping away,
Leaving us all in complete and utter dismay.
So where do we go from here?
I guess we will have perserve.
They say good-byes' are the hardest part,
I think they forgot about having to restart.
Because this is what we've grown to love,
Without having to question all of the above.
We try to say this isn't the end,
But what about 'graduation' do we not comprehend.
Going back, what would you change?
Other than everything.

An Open Letter.

Feeling like the bad guy

for wanting it to be right

a stupid issue

from a stupid mouth

up at night because of a stupid choice

sleeping easy in the next room

it's easy

to play that defensive tune

that's why

he finds the

melodies so sweet

bringing to him that

kind of

relief

i feel broken in the back yard

stabbed by my right hand

slicing thoughts with a shard

broke something grand

and looking in the mirror

i get disgusted

thinking of my potential

i hope it's enough

to keep me

from that dug hole

living like he does must be nice

no more ability than

what will suffice

i've been suffering in the back yard

of my mind

thinking of an admirable time

few come alive

and many less built around a lie

a man in charge

who can't sever ties of dependency

hypocrisy explicit 

flowing in veins

of redundancy

it's like the same uneasy sentence again

like the same uneasy sentence again

same uneasy sentence again

and then the same uneasy sentence again

but what can we do

when you didn't commit to a vision?

broken floor tile

arguments unfounded

so give me a smile

stupidity compounded

victim of his gerrymandering

but thinks he is pandering

only to himself

never puts a new book

on that shelf

every time

i try to be myself

he grabs hold of the ideas on

my shelf

and my questions are too painful

and passing judgement is so useful

an informed decision

he thinks it's all motive

for unnecessary competition

but what is that within?

failure to want to begin?

i am painfully distraught

when he acts like

i fought

with

deadly intentions

i become a broken fence

around a bed of

severed heads

melodrama queen

get back in your limousine

painful to write

painful to fight

no sword nor pen in your sight

gentrified but lost sight

and i'm afraid to follow suit

and i'm afraid to follow you

i don't know

am i being a good one?

have i been a good ...?

even if i'm mad

i'm sorry ...

~It is personal.

Love, 

Digress

And I know you don't feel right when I'm leaving.

I will never forget blue in your eyes.

Hazel, without a doubt, but those blue rings around the inside

hidden to most, but I always seemed to find them.

I will never forget night swimming

sneaking in through the padlocked gate

diving through the knats and the evening's humidity

kissing hard and long and intertwining our bodies and 

then dunking you and swimming away as fast 

as my size 5 feet would paddle

as you "quickly" chased after me.

I will never forget the scruff on your face.

After three days it formed around your proud jawlines

scratching me every time you would kiss the edges of my mouth.

I will never forget the way you got angry.

Eyes wide, sarcastic grin, words that sliced

that soft part of my heart.

The part I kept for you.

I will never forget the pet names

the starlight nights, getting buzzed off our cheap wine

spooning cause we fit so easily together.

I will never forget your giggle.

Your snide little comments, your teases, your taunts

but I laughed just as hard cause you were just kidding.

And come on, I was easy to pick on.

I will never forget our restaurant

our spot, our table, our dinner

no matter how angry we were, that place sealed up the hurt.

I will never forget the crinkles in your smile, 

little imperfections in the imperfect grin that was absolutely perfect to me.

I will never forget the way you ate that grilled cheese

that didn't cook all the way through

and the bread was butter soaked and burnt

the cheese was cold

but you ate it

all

because I made it for you.

I will never forget the way you cried

too tough to break in front of anyone

but me.

The way your face scrunched and 

your eyes filled with the fattest tears

and no matter how mad I was 

I had no choice but to wipe them, kiss them, take them away from you.

Because you were everything.

You are everything.

This might be for the best.

Who knew heartbreak could shatter the most protected of souls.