(Originally posted to Myspace: December 12th, 2007)
Poetry is the affliction of your soul upon another soul
although cloaked in beautiful words
it is essentially a violent act
in this sense, it is a lot like love
I should be doing schoolwork
or reading
or masturbating
but instead, I'm sitting here writing poetry
I'm not sure why
I would much rather be fucking
What is that place where information exists?
Is it books?
The internet?
Scratches on a magnetic disk?
Neurons in your brain?
Observe yourself as you read this poem
who is thinking these thoughts
reading these words
is it you or I
and who am I or you anyway
are we one and the same?
perhaps neither of us exist at all
it's just voices in your head
Poetry is asking a question
and hoping to get an answer back from God
Poetry is the utterance of nonesense
in the hopes that it will somehow make sense
Poetry is bullshit
watch me dredge up my soul
and repackage it for human consumption
offer it up to those
who didn't care enough
to look for it in the first place
Poetry is a way of connecting with other souls
It is the gravitational field of the human universe
impossible to resist
She was beautiful, although she seemed to die a little more each day
With eyes full of sadness and pain
She gripped death tightly like a dagger poised at her heart
Perhaps that's why I wanted to steal it so badly
I quietly sit and wait for the right words
poetry is hard to observe but if you look
sometimes you can find it
other times it remains silent
I would give her everything I have
And some things that I don't
but she refused to take it
I'm not sure why
I think because she is searching for herself
Thoughts are funny
I like to watch them
like I like to watch people
words are thoughts spoken out loud
though like television the good parts are usually edited out
just like they're afraid to show sex scenes
love is a four letter word seldom spoken
except in chosen company
and after much deliberation
love is the eternal fuck you that throws a wrench in hesitation
sending ripples over the surface of our careful cultivation
I carefully plotted a course to her heart,
but found out that it was not on any map
I am Odysseus, sailing the sea of my own soul
Her heart was locked in her ribcage
Her skeleton key was lost
So she kept her love in the closet
I tried to dig it up
but succeeded only in digging my own grave
Poetry is nothing but sleight of hand
to convince you that these words have meaning
Poetry is grasping at the truth in hopes of wrestling it down to earth
She asked if I was an artist, I told her that I was life
And that she was poetry, and that
words are not the only thing my tongue is good for
She is my lust
I must touch her luscious bust
the object of my desire
burning a fire in my heart
We shared a glance from across the room
my smile coaxed a silent reply from her lips
I hoped she could read my thoughts over the blaring lust
her eyes made love to me as I fucked her mind
How is it that words can cross time and space to reach you?
My life matters not, as long as these words exist
They speak for me, they tell you who I am
My story is simple, for you see, I exist between the lines
Search there for my meaning, for I am yet seeking to find myself
Perhaps I will find myself in you.
I sat next to her across oceans of space
I can't say what she was thinking in the silence
but my eyes were on her tits
My metaphors were not enough to hold her soul
she escaped by reading between the lines
5 billion women in the world and I have yet to find the one
who truly understands me
fuck it
I'll find her,
if I have to go through every single one of them
We give birth to the world through words
charting the unnamable upon our hearts
destiny written in movements of stars
Spirits of desire light the fire of my angel's heart
beget destiny upon the man who commands it
I grabbed destiny in my hands and made love to her
she told me that I had sealed my fate
but I was ready to accept the consequences
Her lips were pursed to burst like supernovas
birthing new galaxies with sun kissed bliss
her hips bobbing like cobras twisting around me
in double helix grip divine kundalini
alined with spine tingling hiss
Poetry is the digestion of meaning
and the proceeding regurgitation
Her mind was imprisoned
a slave to passion I could not free her
I could only look at her lonely eyes
and imagine what lay behind them
vistas of bliss perhaps, but their
stark beauty tore my soul to pieces
Fuck television
My mind channels the divine
Truth stood before me and quickly departed
it was always one step ahead
I planned to cut it off at the pass
We sat on the grass, surrounded by the beauty of the world
nature in all it's magnificance, but in all honesty, all I wanted was her
she was the apple of my eye, and I wanted to get to her core
I once tried to find beauty, but she ended up finding me
she took the metaphor from my hand and kissed me midsentence
she told me there was no need for words but I was unable to answer
so she tied my tongue in a bow and presented me with silence
Every time I put a letter on a page I give birth to the nameless
what does it take to turn a thought into reality
is it a word?
can a simple word manifest my desire?
She feels good in my arms
like she was made for the job
I grip her tightly in hopes of never letting go
but let go we must
Angel with hair of gold,
holding keys of my soul
fly to me and set me free
I exist at the end of every sentence
punctuated with meaning
I have the DNA of the first humans in my veins
an unbroken line of succession and before that
I was a monkey, and a fish, swimming in the sea
I have also been molecules, and they are still in me
They say you only use ten percent of your brain
I say they just have low expectations
I see her, my black madonna, sexy mama
drenched in dark skin and sin
marijuana clouded shrouded in doubt
silently stalking the truth
yet walking in shadow of my sun
I wish to eclipse her lips
slip my fingertips into the bliss of her abyss
forked tounge kissed
she guards her garden and resists
My queen, my lover, my destiny
sit next to me and bless me with your ecstasy
My coal black heart has hardened into a diamond
sharp enough to cut through the prison bars of my sorrow
Her blinders strapped tight as she wanders the night
led by men of little sight
I shine bright so that she may see the light
I soar like horus
as the chorus of the spheres
rings heavenly music in my ears
Her mind reminded me of the first time I had sex
A feeling of effortless bliss like I'd done this before
I wrapped myself in the comfort of her words, but she carried
only death in her arms, embracing emptiness
she cast shadows upon her own heart
as I searched for mine in the darkness
drowning in her blood-dimmed tides I rode her waves
and chased her siren's song
She is my ocean, yet she sails upon my soul
The goddess who covers her face
lunar landscapes barren of life, yet enchanting nonetheless
I chart my course upon the stars, hoping they will lead us to each other
lost in her gaze, a cold-blooded serpent's stare
Medusa haired queen of hardened hearts
beating like hands upon the lid of a stone sarcophagus
Truth slips between my fingertips
yet I grip the pen tightly
blood drips from clenched fists
as I wrestle with destiny
is fate testing me
or is this just another recipe for disaster
to sate my appetite for destruction
My heart burns like a forest fire
consuming leaves of paper pages
libraries of flaming words
sending smoke signals to the heavens
Her heart had never burned with passion
I stood with matches and gasoline
an arsonist of the heart
hoping to set her soul on fire
Her mind shined with divine light lit behind her eyes
my snake entered her garden to penetrate
the burning bush between her thighs
The air between us called out to me in despair
I stared at her black hair, long and luxurious
I was curious as to how it might feel
is she real, or just another snare
a mirage camoflauged by beauty's glare
My words cry upon their pages
blots of ink, words stained and unrecognizable
streaming like mascara
down soft cheeks
dripping with meaning
She floats above the ground
an angel or perhaps a ghost
I haven't figured out which
though I have sought for her
she slips between my lips
every time I seek her kiss
These words are dry and stale upon the page
meaning must be infused to give them animation
blood and pain, flesh and bone
energy to give them a life of their own
God writes his poetry on the face of women in orgasm
I am a slave to her stare
raven haired goddess of love
come closer and give yourself to me
your surrender is as inevitable as the setting of the sun
I wonder what she's doing right now
probably eating or sleeping
or fucking
I wonder what she would think
if she knew I was writing poetry
about her
There is no such thing as time
time only exists for those
who are afraid to live
but especially for those
who are afraid to die
Her soft breasts rest against my chest
as I caress away her stress
her head pressed against my flesh,
my breath inhales her tresses scent,
evidence of sweat and reminants of sex
I must confess that I feel blessed
Poetry is proof that language is insufficient
My muse is black and blue
abused and battered
bruised and shattered
heart beaten beyond recognition
by a million would-be artists and musicians
she falls for them so easily
yet bleeds on me
as I whisper poetry
in her ear
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