I ask myself sometimes..
What is it about bad news that sometimes settles me
As if the culmination of let downs makes it unfathomable for me to endure something good
Or the audacity of savoring something great
The hope for it seems just as ridiculous
Is it the comfort of no further expectations within the flat line of bad news
Is it the good news always has the possibility of turning bad, as if I’m half across a high line tight rope
Why is my comfort in misery or self masochism more easily lived with
But my promise haunts me more than goodbyes?
Maybe that’s what it is, the goodbyes I expect
The ones to come and the ones that came
I’ve spent my whole life remembering
Slammed doors, dial tones and more backs than faces
So its hard now to face you and every promise that comes attached
So don’t believe in me, I’m just another case of bad news
Goodbye freedom, goodbye opportunities, goodbye love…
At least I said it first this time
Culture
Insight
The inspiration that women incite,
Excites – and that’s insight
For inside, in that dim light
Within that dim life
In the depths of a lions den haunted by them nights
When the ink pen writes
every ink bleeds, the pen cries
symbolically when a man cries
with no woman in-sight.
Bed of lies
Red, rose petals on the bed of defeat
My tongue intertwined between the legs of deceit
Penetrate my delusions on the lies of these sheets
She starts to scream out the side that she hides as she rises to her peak
But before she misspeaks…she peeks
She quiets, tenses & we lock eyes
She comes…
Forward with truth so strong she unlocks mine
Heaves in her chest, flush in her flesh was showing
nothing said, just tides of a melancholy knowing –
Dead, rose petals on the bed of deceit
I morbidly leave, from between, the legs of defeat…
Minutes Uncertain
1 minute we fight, 1 minute we love
1 minute we hug, 1 minute we shove
1 minute we talk, next minute a fit
A whole minute we kiss
Next minute full of some venom we spit
It’s back and forth, but I put you first
Yet you wear your heart on your sleeveless shirt
So I’ll leave you first, instead of leavin’ hurt.
On My Ownly
I let my shoulders speak, amongst the coldest peaks
No woe is me, no coat on me
My Edgar Allen Po-etry, flows in me, floetry
When focusing-
I’m a poacher for hope, when hope is hopeless in a culture
When the coach is only me-
And the phone don’t ring, I cope
‘Cause internally, my heart still beats to the songs I sing.
Miva
Passing time, when it’s still a test
30 something, you still a threat
Leggings cool, but you’d kill a dress
I mean “I am” when I say Im-pressed
No secret, you kill the rest
Yo’ secrets, still a guess
Victoria Secrets, if you confess
Soul seekin when we connect
They say beauty is so vain
Well you have beauty in your veins
Because I see beauty in your pain
I think beauty is your name