BloodBlood is the essence of the heart,
and Music is the wound.
Blood is the essence of our life,
stored in our heart,
pierced by the song.
And it is pain that frees our blood
to bleed and drip and run,
to live outside the confinement of our hearts,
and to stain the garments of our world.
Music is the pain that frees our lives to bleed.
Life is a VaporIt has been said by some, "Life is a vapor,"Life is a Vapor4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and true enough, their lives have blown away,
been carried off by wind, gust, gale and weather.
Their work was not heavy enough to stay.
Some men are small, and thus live their small lives
secluded in some small forsaken town,
and all in all, live in this world deprived
of any chance to garner some renown.
They work their 9-to-5, then they come home
and have their evening meal with family,
and, sipping through the amber beer-mug foam,
resign to kick up feet and watch TV.
They live, they die, their children do as well,
trudging on toward that same grey fate.
The Preacher won't admit they've gone to Hell,
but no one says they passed the Pearly Gate.
These men are not the men that we adore,
the glorious of whom our History boasts.
They leave us hungry, wanting something more
than the ordinary meal befitting most.
The Human Soul demands, by God's Design,
the satisfaction of a life lived well,
a legacy that's worth leaving behind,
a story that is
Awkward TensionAwkward TensionAwkward Tension4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Confined there is no way forward,
And no escape route to look towards.
Forced and fake conversations.
Filth NoirFilth NoirFilth Noir4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
With fairytale hair,
In perfect curls.
Lips like stolen roses,
Take a drag on a cigarette.
Keeps the audience engaged.
Pearls glisten under the "Lights
A voice like jazz,
She'll sing you to sleep
After your third drink.
Don't break her heart;
But you did anyway.
Those letters that smell
Like wildflowers and musk.
Little diva, filmstar, actress;
Wants you back in her dressing room.
Beautiful dreams always end,
But she'll fool you otherwise
On the big screen.
The Burlesque GirlA girl with stilettos, red lipstick, and curled hair was ready to please since birthThe Burlesque Girl4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Born to prove to us what she's worth
"Hit the lights," she whispers, and struts onto the stage
The crowd cheers and gasps, everyone's amazed
The young boys heart's skip many beats
They came here looking for a treat
She blows each one of them a kiss
Blink for a second and you will surely miss
The heels come off, and down comes the hair
Haunting the audience with her stare
She amazes all who see
Each perfectly sculpted hip, thigh and knee
The boys all whistle, shout and cheer
But the finale is no where near
Her smile seduces all who should glare
She starts to pull up her dress, almost there
The lads all scream because they're delighted
She licks her lips, and they all get excited
The dress comes off and that's the end of the act
Barely has her dignity still intact
A girl who's brought more than just fantasies
A goddess who leave's more than wet dreams
Her body's a voice which she expresses
And this is wh
Club NoirOne of the neon lettersClub Noir4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
doesn´t work anymore
It´s flickering like her glance
Legs crossed insinuatingly
on the cheap white barstool
as cheap as this smile
stuck on her face
Stubbing out the cigarette
she blows the smoke in my face
Don´t be tricked!
at these places you´ve to be careful
sometimes words go wrong pathways
and you never know
with whom you´re doing business
It´s the world of silent smokers
of dancers to bullet-rain
of the bass rhythm crying tears
of yesterday´s nights
In this circus of lust and sadness
Screen of glamour and illusion
Masked ball of desire and loneliness
It´s the world of back door conversations
where you can lose your innocence
in a bottle of red wine
or in the eyes of the pianist
It´s the stage of arts
It´s the gloomy back side
It´s the Club Noir
She licks her lips
they look like velvet but they´re
too red to be serious
so I´m ready to say goodbye before
Her Smoke, My FireHer last cigarette remembered my lips.Her Smoke, My Fire4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Film NoirShe blew the smoke through her nostrilsFilm Noir4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
After she delicately fondled her cigarette holder
And took a long puff.
"People are so used to these bad habits,"
I thought as I was preparing to ask her some
Very important questions.
"Did you kill him, Miss Holley?" I asked outright.
Her voice was so completely matter-of-fact that it startled me.
"And I'd do it again."
"Why did you do it?" I exhaled.
"I just couldn't take it anymore."
I was completely intrigued "Take what?"
"His dirty little habits."
Portraits versus PaintingsI want hardly defined linesPortraits versus Paintings4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Slashed in no time
Scribbled with the highest precision
A work of art
Endless Roaring DreamsA SaxEndless Roaring Dreams4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
An Upright Bass
Endless Roaring Dreams
Gathered on a stage
Bass counts off with the Trumpets and life starts
A short interlude until---
Sax first, to set the standard;
--All rise for the Chorus
You didn't know duet until now
Trumpets swing, slide and glyde;
Up and down scale
To the Dreamer, From the One Left Behindi.To the Dreamer, From the One Left Behind4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Let's be honest.
The first time I saw her,
I didn't like her.
Not because she did anything bad,
But because third graders
Are too stubborn to like change,
And she was change with a capital 'C'.
It's not that we were different, or the same.
I was just me, and she was just her, and we just were.
I was the kind of person who said "love" too quickly, and "hate" too much.
She was the kind of person who thought no one ever said "love" to her.
I was the kind of person who wanted to make memories
She was the kind to just let them come at their own time.
I was the kind of person who could spend hours looking
In a mirror on a day I felt good.
The kind who couldn't stand looking in mirrors on a day I felt bad.
She was the kind of person who understood.
So don't you dare tell me it will be the same.
Hard cold type on bright white screens, written at odd times in the morning
Is not the same as a hug when you need one the most.
A Somber RoseTo each his own; to me, a somber roseA Somber Rose4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My despair and pondersome gloomy grows
I lie awake with poisoned poetry spilling out my hand
To love, or not to love, I cannot take a stand
In fields of dreams and brevity, many ideas fly by
But one remains awaitingit sits there and spies
And every now and again, I consider suicide.
But for the sake of fleeing circumstances many a man has died.
So until God, by Death His Agent, holds my weary eyelids closed,
I sigh, "To each his own; to me, a somber rose."
the kind of destruction only i deserve.i'm sitting on a throne of thread spoolsthe kind of destruction only i deserve.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with technicolor knots wound around my wrists,
and i thought it would be enough to hold me together.
i am weak - thread-lines etched into my skin
because i always tie myself too tight,
convinced that if i add an inch,
i'll melt between cotton molecules, liquefied.
and i figured that i'd finally gotten it right;
between the bulges of my skin and bindings,
i'd managed to shut myself up, and shut you out.
i even installed double-paned glass into every window
so that if the wind ever came to welcome me home,
i wouldn't have to chatter my teeth,
like I was pretending to converse.
it wasn't enough.
i smashed the windows and snapped all of the spools
and tore every single thread away with their shards
i created a whirlwind with my skin and my sin
and this time i don't deserve to be saved.
IntoExciting news,Into4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we're disallowing the
of out-of-touch consequences
I'm glad that you're here, sir.
For all of the mirror images
Waving at self, who is waving at self
For with this instrument, everything
that we do is exponentially multiplied.
From words and gestures, to life and death
From action and reaction, to sanity and insanity
All of our selves echo in this indelible
I'm glad that you're here, sir.
I'm glad that you're here.
Staring at myself, who is not me,
I look into his eyes,
And I am looking into reflections.
I am staring into a thousand eyes.
the genesis burdenthere is a thunderstorm in my bonesthe genesis burden4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it rattles up my spine
makes a chaotic resonance
in the cavity of my ribs
my body is a heartache
for you, the unnamed
there is a mudslide in my veins
sweeping through my vision
tumbling through my arms
building up in my legs
my body is unmoved
by you, the unknown
there is a flood in my brain
it drowns out thoughts
spills from the corners
of my cracked lips
my body is a natural disaster
to you, the unintentional
there is a drought in my heart
scalding hopes once planted
in neat little rows of self-consciousness
my body is an amalgamation
and you, the mercurial
Never Letting GoHe was always alone.Never Letting Go4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Always putting on a pained smile,
Always twiddling his thumbs,
Always straying from the group.
He barely spoke,
He barely laughed,
Until she came along.
With her, he smiled,
She barely spoke,
She barely laughed,
She barely lived.
Without her, he smiled,
Without her, he began anew,
With her, he was happy,
Laugh, Love and LiveLaugh, Love and Live.Laugh, Love and Live4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The only contagious and infectious cure.
Considered something natural and pure.
Uncontrollable but influential,
In times of need it is deemed essential.
We each have our own signature expression.
The ever lasting opposite to depression.
Known to provoke tears of delight.
Even when heaven seems out of sight.
Something that can lighten any situation.