Ever flesh

Broken whispers shatter
ears that eat silence
broken is the after
never written on closed lips
tattered are the ashes
from embers of your hair
eyes that pierce the soul
ever rotten, ever bare.

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When sour grapes grow old

Colors bleed from pores grown old
decrepit liquid skin won’t hold
drops and streams of browns and blacks
hidden evils toxic wax
boiling some colors bled out of pockets
from your head
hairline oiled from the greys
you have oozed out all your hate
bitter soul your colors portray
you are liquid rainbow decay.

A room for spiders

Fill the room with webs of me
words that act as delicate strings
everything from bones and teeth
my blood becomes the air and sheets
bed of eyes, my lips and hair
decorate the room with flare
show a side so rarely seen
the parts of me I tried to bleed
forget the empty broken parts
use my intestines but lose my heart
leave the windows bare of strings
keep the vision inside for the streets
fill the room with webs of me
a story writ in nails and feet
all my skin becomes the rug
an empty room forgotten, undone.

The heartbeat

It’ll be okay
it’s really all the same
a game of wills and minds
this time I’m on the line
so sitting still won’t do
but I will make it through
adaptable it seems
the things you’ve made of me
but it will be okay
the final word remains
even if it dies
I will still survive

Boredom in the time of magic

Kill the passion
snuff the fire
everything decays
and tires
grows so old
with what we own
the world around
a tomb not home
rainbows all in shades of grey
brittle bridges meant to fade
fade and blacken like the sky
we cry our stars
and break or eyes
we see death in wake of life
we break bread before we fight
bleed the joy of wonderment
and scar the happy that might of been.

Oh wait… something something

Let’s ask the wife of Oj Simpson
Nicole might just have her own rendition
oh that’s right we can’t just ask her
she’s dead in the ground
she didn’t think faster
when all the police ignored her reports
when nobody believed the bruises and sores
but let’s ask Nicole if only we could
should we trust what the wives say
or would that not be good?
She’s dead in the ground
and the world played its hand
okay it was America but still it was grand
when we make allowances let it be said
we can’t ask every wife
what her husband really did.

Just ask the wife

Mia Farrow
says it’s okay
Mia Farrow
says it’s fine
Mia Farrow
says a lot of things
and yes she used
to be Woody Allen’s wife
so let’s all take a paycheck
from a pedophile
I’d say allegedly
but he groomed Soon-Yi
for a while
so let’s just go with pedo
because this is a poem
and while we believe in Mia
let’s believe in the Cosby show
take Camille’s word
and resend that second verdict
because if Mia’s opinion is valid
then Camille’s should also be worth it

who is Mister X?

Thank you for the links,
thank you for the quotations-
I’d like to get your words
your thoughts on this creation
but a dialogue can happen
even if a short one
with a simple thank you
for inspiration to come.

Kanye West the Savior the black communities needs-not deserves

Slavery is a choice
in present day America
you choose to sell your voice
and keep yourself in chains
every black person enslaved
is another person freed
Harriet Tubman said it best
she could’ve saved them all
but many wouldn’t move
many fought to stay
we forget the slaves
that kept their masters safe
you say 400 years
it’s more like 93
depending on how you count
depends on what slavery means
Kanye had it right
and now everybody’s mad
refused to sell a lie
to enslave himself.