would be a lie if i called our love poetry,
or would u rather i twisted the truth and said your eyes were my haven.
your touch my hunger
NO. i promised you i would never lie to you.
You the inspiration that my possession conjours through my pen.
the cloud i lay upon, when not my mind, but my soul is in the sky.
you are the itch in my urge to scream.
you do more than move me,
pleasure and pain to shake me.
you rattle my brain to focus on nothing but the rhythm of your lips
my body to groove to only your beat.
my soul shines brighter and my breaths come harder.
and if my temple shall be your downfall.
it shall break that fall
and if this temple shall nurture what is yours and mine.
let this be my signature.
you shake me, with fear
that not only rattles my bones, but rises a rumble inside my wake of war.
i am at your frontline.
do what you do with your hands while i sleep.
take my soul in darkness today,
my heart will be next in line for tomorrow...
'coz it really doesn't matter which one is under scrutiny today.
they are all here, willing, openly loving, waiting
for you, to come over here so we can shake this bed and rattle this room
Thursday, April 24, 2008
dreamlove
Yes, you could love me less in your sobriety
You could love a hell of a lot more in your drunken state
It’s true the way I felt about your nigga
There are many things that have taken place long before
I and his bittersweet sacrifice of hiding in a lie began
(Stuck in my head, NO!)
These will always be painted in my memories.
Sobriety is limiting, it has a promise in its face
Leaving you in the wake of mistakes, always slow to react.
Beauty, natural beauty is nothing created or invented
Nothing preserved or well kept
Nothing worth praising or an award
It just is.
I am what I feel constantly and there is no honesty in that
When I am happy u see it
Sad you just might
My ability of hiding is beyond the outer boundaries of what you can imagine.
My naturally beautiful self beyond boundaries, drunken, sober, in insanity, beyond thought and trial will run out of time and learn how it all unwinds.
My true self is haunted, by fear, unhealthy wounds, with its walls caving in.
My true self, is distracted, confused by an endless discomfort
I’ve felt this, and now lacking in self control, I’m just a mirror of the things I feel, reflecting nothing, holding hands with my own reflection…beside me.
The etched memories in my mind feed the pressure.
And as for what you see, can’t be the struggle but only the trouble.
So tell me now, could you love me while beyond the outer boundaries of a niggas state, while there’s really nothing left to love, AT ALL!?
You could love a hell of a lot more in your drunken state
It’s true the way I felt about your nigga
There are many things that have taken place long before
I and his bittersweet sacrifice of hiding in a lie began
(Stuck in my head, NO!)
These will always be painted in my memories.
Sobriety is limiting, it has a promise in its face
Leaving you in the wake of mistakes, always slow to react.
Beauty, natural beauty is nothing created or invented
Nothing preserved or well kept
Nothing worth praising or an award
It just is.
I am what I feel constantly and there is no honesty in that
When I am happy u see it
Sad you just might
My ability of hiding is beyond the outer boundaries of what you can imagine.
My naturally beautiful self beyond boundaries, drunken, sober, in insanity, beyond thought and trial will run out of time and learn how it all unwinds.
My true self is haunted, by fear, unhealthy wounds, with its walls caving in.
My true self, is distracted, confused by an endless discomfort
I’ve felt this, and now lacking in self control, I’m just a mirror of the things I feel, reflecting nothing, holding hands with my own reflection…beside me.
The etched memories in my mind feed the pressure.
And as for what you see, can’t be the struggle but only the trouble.
So tell me now, could you love me while beyond the outer boundaries of a niggas state, while there’s really nothing left to love, AT ALL!?
between life and exsistance
standing in the bathroom of hell, holding the hand of death.
bloody wrists.
wishing and hoping that maybe, one day i'll wake up and realize that everything i have been taught was a faux, a cover-up, for maybe something better.
that i'd have to re-learn my ignorance, re-learn the ways that have never been of human nature.
that all along "THEY" were just characters, designs of your hearts' desire. and you heart is not the dispenser of feeling and your mind would be just a pure reflection of previous traffic lights.
human beings are designed for alot of things, lonliness is not one of them.
high above everything else, stirred a wind,
swimming in a dead sky
swimming for dear life
a heart, mended in many tiny pieces
screaming, screaming for help
holding on to threads of poison
in flew a bird
fluttering, moving with this flow of air
beckoned by the souls' of souls
the grain of hope where needed.
little did he know he had just been appointed to save my life.
bloody wrists.
wishing and hoping that maybe, one day i'll wake up and realize that everything i have been taught was a faux, a cover-up, for maybe something better.
that i'd have to re-learn my ignorance, re-learn the ways that have never been of human nature.
that all along "THEY" were just characters, designs of your hearts' desire. and you heart is not the dispenser of feeling and your mind would be just a pure reflection of previous traffic lights.
human beings are designed for alot of things, lonliness is not one of them.
high above everything else, stirred a wind,
swimming in a dead sky
swimming for dear life
a heart, mended in many tiny pieces
screaming, screaming for help
holding on to threads of poison
in flew a bird
fluttering, moving with this flow of air
beckoned by the souls' of souls
the grain of hope where needed.
little did he know he had just been appointed to save my life.
rape of love
lose of innocence, but not really, the feeling was of familirality
more like the violation of choice
when a clock that counts down is thrown, smashes, and the glasses scar your face.
the burning of trust is the result of the smoke in the room.
i dont smoke too much!
to explain it would be like chasing air,
its like 2 negations in 1 sentence that doent inturn become positive.
the birth of death
the down in ups
you are my day dreams and my nightmares.
i love you.
i hate you,
you stole, ran
moved on and crossed me off.
do i blame YOU though,
satisfaction, u got wat u came for, found it right where i had left it.
you had me
we never shared secrets
you irritate the shit outta me coz now i take the long way home.
my favourite place is now a common detour.
do i still want you to sweep me away?
i think about u.
its a memory, that runs in your mind endlessly, like the perpetrator runs in the night..
maybe i should have guessed, vampires only come out at night.
you've bleed me dry.
you pushed all my buttons..
tell me..when it was in your face, how did it taste?
blame me coz i put up the disguise
hate me forever just like u did that 1 night..
has yours or my luck run out?
i see you coming,
tryna act polite
im a good gal, no grudges, NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW!that you r an asshole...
i should be running
but i know the game is the same
wat goes around comes around!
now i will pack you up and put u in a box with ALL the others...
did you get to me?
only after a few gin and tonics?
i really wanna get over you...
wheres my pile of grass?
the last laugh is mine...coz u dropped some good shit...
i wanna LOL in your face? but i'll do it in the picture i drew of u...
more like the violation of choice
when a clock that counts down is thrown, smashes, and the glasses scar your face.
the burning of trust is the result of the smoke in the room.
i dont smoke too much!
to explain it would be like chasing air,
its like 2 negations in 1 sentence that doent inturn become positive.
the birth of death
the down in ups
you are my day dreams and my nightmares.
i love you.
i hate you,
you stole, ran
moved on and crossed me off.
do i blame YOU though,
satisfaction, u got wat u came for, found it right where i had left it.
you had me
we never shared secrets
you irritate the shit outta me coz now i take the long way home.
my favourite place is now a common detour.
do i still want you to sweep me away?
i think about u.
its a memory, that runs in your mind endlessly, like the perpetrator runs in the night..
maybe i should have guessed, vampires only come out at night.
you've bleed me dry.
you pushed all my buttons..
tell me..when it was in your face, how did it taste?
blame me coz i put up the disguise
hate me forever just like u did that 1 night..
has yours or my luck run out?
i see you coming,
tryna act polite
im a good gal, no grudges, NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW!that you r an asshole...
i should be running
but i know the game is the same
wat goes around comes around!
now i will pack you up and put u in a box with ALL the others...
did you get to me?
only after a few gin and tonics?
i really wanna get over you...
wheres my pile of grass?
the last laugh is mine...coz u dropped some good shit...
i wanna LOL in your face? but i'll do it in the picture i drew of u...
twenty O 1, 08
i guess i could go with the flow only if your waves allowed me to surf the trembles in the ocean of your heart
i could be your dream only if the clouding of your brain could let my raindrops pour.
i could grow on you like leaves on a tree but the bark that covers the walls of you within, is too thick and the pain in your self growth sinks below the roots
we could bloom so bright and beautiful, spread like the suns rays, but it seems the lightning is always behind us.
and here as we stand still with time, our day changing to night and our moon always ahead of the sun.
still we stand on opposite sides of the world, different seasons, under different galaxies, face to face but still....
look into my eyes and tell me if you and I's exsistence, not distance doesnt equal earth.
i could be your dream only if the clouding of your brain could let my raindrops pour.
i could grow on you like leaves on a tree but the bark that covers the walls of you within, is too thick and the pain in your self growth sinks below the roots
we could bloom so bright and beautiful, spread like the suns rays, but it seems the lightning is always behind us.
and here as we stand still with time, our day changing to night and our moon always ahead of the sun.
still we stand on opposite sides of the world, different seasons, under different galaxies, face to face but still....
look into my eyes and tell me if you and I's exsistence, not distance doesnt equal earth.
This is me, between all lines
if only my heart could change its mind like my hand changes font.
(my heart is a pen for a ready writer.)
if only my words could be easily laid out for those in traffic as a song blares.
(i am no song writer.)
my song is a lyric & high note of a nervous singer.
i want to tell you something, do you have patience enough to wait for the paint on this picture to dry?
i bruise easily, the ink on my skin is from within. How kinds of roses are there? they fall cross-bred individually all unalike from my head, wilted but alive.
though my heart has me exposed, this light skin is from the lack of discovery.
i had a re-occuring nightmare of being stabbed to death. it isn'ta disappointment that my ears n tongue never bled.
i have no suspects, no one to blame...
i am alone in this casket, buried alive.
as i pick at the wounds, the blame on you is deliberate.
what mine is, is not issues, its a pending question.
my eyes are inherited, the rings around then earned.
my tears are not liquid, i call them abstract worry.
i am not an artist. words become me.
mine is not defined ART.
a sixth sense for the mute.
my inner muse must be a bear, for her hibernation stretches n crawls under the skin, like the cold of winter.
the scars that i have from falling as a child were all mapped out.
my nails are designs, ideas that teeth can't quite grasp.
im wondering if my right foot is leading to a path i once lost.
the blue in my closet was made from fallen sky.
my beads and bangles can always be diamonds and pearls.
(not all stars shoot.)
my words are of mine, not to be praised
(those that love more, have no one)
my heels are never high.
the gateway, window of my soul could never be my deceitful eyes, no.
but fear of the rising sun.
my screams are as harmful as my laugh strains me.
the iilusionists directs attention elsewhere,
the source of my beauty is not my smile.
the arch of my eyebrows is not been carved
the taint of my skin was a gift from the womb.
in the pool of bliss my navel is not the shallower end.
the chereography of my hips is not a double joint.
the humidity in my lair is provoked.
and in this trap, the sounds are the same as the words i carve on your back.
in this so usual expression, a woman pushes through.
the capability n potential of destruction caused by the nature of man is not for the faint hearted.
i could write on n forever
but i want those moved to continue...
(my heart is a pen for a ready writer.)
if only my words could be easily laid out for those in traffic as a song blares.
(i am no song writer.)
my song is a lyric & high note of a nervous singer.
i want to tell you something, do you have patience enough to wait for the paint on this picture to dry?
i bruise easily, the ink on my skin is from within. How kinds of roses are there? they fall cross-bred individually all unalike from my head, wilted but alive.
though my heart has me exposed, this light skin is from the lack of discovery.
i had a re-occuring nightmare of being stabbed to death. it isn'ta disappointment that my ears n tongue never bled.
i have no suspects, no one to blame...
i am alone in this casket, buried alive.
as i pick at the wounds, the blame on you is deliberate.
what mine is, is not issues, its a pending question.
my eyes are inherited, the rings around then earned.
my tears are not liquid, i call them abstract worry.
i am not an artist. words become me.
mine is not defined ART.
a sixth sense for the mute.
my inner muse must be a bear, for her hibernation stretches n crawls under the skin, like the cold of winter.
the scars that i have from falling as a child were all mapped out.
my nails are designs, ideas that teeth can't quite grasp.
im wondering if my right foot is leading to a path i once lost.
the blue in my closet was made from fallen sky.
my beads and bangles can always be diamonds and pearls.
(not all stars shoot.)
my words are of mine, not to be praised
(those that love more, have no one)
my heels are never high.
the gateway, window of my soul could never be my deceitful eyes, no.
but fear of the rising sun.
my screams are as harmful as my laugh strains me.
the iilusionists directs attention elsewhere,
the source of my beauty is not my smile.
the arch of my eyebrows is not been carved
the taint of my skin was a gift from the womb.
in the pool of bliss my navel is not the shallower end.
the chereography of my hips is not a double joint.
the humidity in my lair is provoked.
and in this trap, the sounds are the same as the words i carve on your back.
in this so usual expression, a woman pushes through.
the capability n potential of destruction caused by the nature of man is not for the faint hearted.
i could write on n forever
but i want those moved to continue...
NO WAKING UP, NO SLEEP...NO TITLE
I woke up one day to the sound of him leaving, and I asked him, what went wrong? He smiled as he brushed my cheek and started to tell me he had packed his bags a long time ago. That he sneaked back ‘coz, well, I was the only person who could heal the wound I had created and help get over me.
I woke up to him screaming, in the middle of the night. I held tight, he pushed me away and told me that he was tired of existence, that all he wanted was to live, he needed to be warm, his tomb had coldened my heart.
I woke up to the sound of him crying. I tried to tell him I didn’t need a river in his name. He explained they weren’t for me, but for him. He needed to leave a trail so that he’ll never get lost. That night 23 months ago was our last night.
I woke up to him loving me, as surprise excited me and ecstasy overwhelmed us, he stopped, confessed to me that, this, was not the best, that the rest of the times and the days, forever we would always be as one. A tear rolled down my face, and as a promise, that my tears would never be of fire but for him to taste my spirit, he swallowed it.
I woke up and his back was towards me.
I rolled towards him.
He whispered that I didn’t have to hold on so tight and that I’d forget one day to smile at him and tell him I cared.
I woke up to him kissing me; I embraced it and stole seconds of that bliss to take with me.
I woke up to his touch, and as a miracle where he laid his hands didn’t hurt anymore. And under all the bandages, my wounds were starting to scab. And the bleeding had stopped.
I woke up in his arms, surprised as to how I had gotten there, scared. He started to try and calm me down, told me he wouldn’t hurt me, he stole me, fought me and that I was free to go, run, but that he would be back the next day, morning and tonight. To find me.
I never hid and I don’t recall even trying to runaway.
I woke up several times without him there, and I couldn’t get out of bed.
I woke up yesterday to the sound of his voice, and that was just a dream.
I woke up once I didn’t remember much about our time or his smile.
I woke up today, got out of bed; I smiled as if I saw his reflection, laughed at our memories. Cried my heart out, I threw things, cussed and cursed, forgot and forgave, sung and swore, praised, pleaded and refused. But at least I woke up today, without him.
AND I AM WITHOUT HIM!
I woke up to him screaming, in the middle of the night. I held tight, he pushed me away and told me that he was tired of existence, that all he wanted was to live, he needed to be warm, his tomb had coldened my heart.
I woke up to the sound of him crying. I tried to tell him I didn’t need a river in his name. He explained they weren’t for me, but for him. He needed to leave a trail so that he’ll never get lost. That night 23 months ago was our last night.
I woke up to him loving me, as surprise excited me and ecstasy overwhelmed us, he stopped, confessed to me that, this, was not the best, that the rest of the times and the days, forever we would always be as one. A tear rolled down my face, and as a promise, that my tears would never be of fire but for him to taste my spirit, he swallowed it.
I woke up and his back was towards me.
I rolled towards him.
He whispered that I didn’t have to hold on so tight and that I’d forget one day to smile at him and tell him I cared.
I woke up to him kissing me; I embraced it and stole seconds of that bliss to take with me.
I woke up to his touch, and as a miracle where he laid his hands didn’t hurt anymore. And under all the bandages, my wounds were starting to scab. And the bleeding had stopped.
I woke up in his arms, surprised as to how I had gotten there, scared. He started to try and calm me down, told me he wouldn’t hurt me, he stole me, fought me and that I was free to go, run, but that he would be back the next day, morning and tonight. To find me.
I never hid and I don’t recall even trying to runaway.
I woke up several times without him there, and I couldn’t get out of bed.
I woke up yesterday to the sound of his voice, and that was just a dream.
I woke up once I didn’t remember much about our time or his smile.
I woke up today, got out of bed; I smiled as if I saw his reflection, laughed at our memories. Cried my heart out, I threw things, cussed and cursed, forgot and forgave, sung and swore, praised, pleaded and refused. But at least I woke up today, without him.
AND I AM WITHOUT HIM!
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