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Torn tattered worn warned

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The unconditional contains no blessing.
Serving all as equals without a standard return.
Often left with empty pockets holding holes
opposites attraction, giving to the taker with nothing left to console.

Torn and tattered the paper can’t fold
The burden, the ink, layered lines of bold.
From red to blue to black, looking for the gold.
No babe, though the swine of sentiment, leaves a rusted pigment.

Warned that the world is a feeding.
Naive of opportunities fleeting.
Fleet less, following  expectations.
Foreign flags raised of red turn ideals to complications.

Campaign for domination, the bait for damnation.
Stranded by temptation,  embodied by a frame.
On display, the glass pane cracked,
With pain as plain as the paper before the stain.


Love is

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Love is living, love is ruthless.
So often we say “I love you”.
From day in to day out as if on repeat
Take it for granted and live life toothless

Love is hard and love can hurt.
Gnaw to a bite, a kiss to a fight.
temptations to altercation
Turmoil soiled by unseen provocation.
Contingent to conquest yet coiled tight.

Love is soft, pouring between fingertips.
Melted like butter and pressed between lips.
Slippery as ice and cold as the winter.
Moldless putty for all but an amateur.

Love is forever changing, a stasis within chains.
This land you roam was never yours to claim.
Constriction from a collection of two.
Sadly mistaken if left with predictions that these problems provided clues.

Love is a moment that beats again and again.
Constantly providing patron to the others within.
The road you rage is best to  go both ways.
Settle for less while disaster frames.

Love isn’t lasting, more like a fasting.
One makes the kill as the other makes its fill.
One takes the helm as the other scrubs the boat.
left himself to drown so that she could be afloat.


Have you heard my song?

heardmysong

Have you heard my song?

Had my melody been sweet?

Did I strum a guitar,

with my soul within the strings?

Did the drums hammer loud,

with a passionate beat?

Maybe just some noise,

were your ears were left to ring.

Was it  played like a concert,

with vocals taking steps back.

did the crowd go silent, feeling my tale,

had I played the final act?

Was I a rookie on the stage too soon,

sounding my story in auto-tune?

Would you play me again?

or smile and pretend,

never listening to the end.

did you find this song of mine worth sharing?

or drown it out without even caring.


Wear away the Reservoir

Within my chest resides this restless reservoir.

Filling for years, of rain, unchanged, unchained.

Overcame the droughts with beating quakes,

to bring upon the springs, intramural steam.

 

The current may alter yet funneling flows within one body…

until drained to dry, fallen on flats, this supply never to be cycled.

Some days felt and flourished, still moist-less, arid…

A barren waste, the dirt left behind fuels grievous distaste.

 

A better man to a bitter being, never blind, never seeing.

A heavy heart subject to storms and blown away like sands of the Sahara.

A reserve to the reserved unless I pitch this nature a curve.

The new bed I lay, smoldering my softness, procrastinate my coffin.

 

Molten my weakness, stoned to hide the flesh.

Dismissive of standards which the wild consistently tests.

Destructive in consequence of the inverted, introverted and soon to be converted.

Within my chest… devoid, desolate, forgotton and deserted.


No place to Hyde

Young and old, a coward yet bold
No good without evil, who will be the hero?
These shades of grey make fog of day
Will we fall? pray to innocence?
Will the villain conquer penance.
Please calm this arena neither welcomed tenants.

No sorrow for Jeckle nor understanding of Hyde.
For what reason within me do they coincide?
No due diligence when facing duality.
Multiple menacing realities conjure a conscious divide.
Deafening ears on Jimmity, a blind and selfless guide.
No evidence of when or why, just a guy,
who cannot run, yet tries to hide.

A relentless storm fuels the fire, left with just a thimble.
Part way filled with hope,  one can only be humble
Numb yearning nimble, entrapped without escape.
Confusion to sane, uncertainty holds shame,
persona inflamed, emotions masked and maimed

No entrance or access, no exit sign or door.
Only what is and what is not.
There is no pause play or stop.
The nonidentical twins from within.
Sanctioned into life while dissolving into sin.


You’re Welcomed?

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It had been wondrous recruiting for the team.

I, now a past tense, molten for what is us.

Another at your backside in joint pursuit of dreams.

Rely upon one another, untempered stone will reduce to dust.

We band for the journey , we bond for our life.

Unbroken when stretched with elastic reeling mid.

Flexibility worth a hassle,  resolving when in strife.

Some days living a trampoline leaving curses with cupid.

Two income supplies benefit to one organization.

Sharing in profits which hard work redeemed.

Prospecting a home not an economical imitation.

No secrets nor deceit, neither of us fiends.

I believe these values to be true just as vows received.

Yet disappointment steals my gaze often as of late.

Precious rose colored ring, now taken off, just as things perceived

Some actions make one re-examine the “righteous rule of fate”.


“It looks like a Noodle”

           I remember a life without pain or suffering, just a routine schedule of video games, television and education. Content with each day, excitement for friends’ fun and toys, I could live life carefree. Everyone reminisces about the days where responsibility doesn’t haunt their every action with results of consequences and difficult decisions. “Ask your mother”, a common phrase that provided all answers and gave guidance to how far I would stray from the safety of a sheltered life. My invulnerability was conceived from lack of life experiences and distraught with my 10th birthday with a gift I valued dearly. The most prized present I had ever received exposed the naive outlook with adversity from events that were soon to follow.

          I followed my parental figures to the backyard with anticipation for my 10th year celebration of life. The anticipation came not from the celebration, but from the presents I would expect like every birth year that had passed. My parents knew exactly what I loved, but this year they had really outdone themselves with something I could not even put to a numerical value. My jaw had dropped as I ran my hands over the smooth, unscathed rubber of the tires. I loved White and blue color with fiberglass plating hovering over each of the two tires, and a fresh paint job. It was the same feeling from when I received my first car. My parents awarded me the bike of my dreams which even the wealthy neighborhood children could not rival. I couldn’t have been more satisfied with this day as I escorted my “hot ride” to the curb to boost my short statue to clear the seat. The leather pressed against my bottom as if a middle aged man installed to his new Lazy Boy recliner. I rushed to show all my friends with excitement for the jealousy that would gleam through their eyes. Xavier, a dear friend of mine, excitedly would race with me up and down Plattsvile’s dead end street side by side with joy for the cool wind that rushed against our face. The adrenaline rush after reaching high speeds came to a halt after I noticed a loose end to my untied lace. Pulling to the nearest curb like a good driver, I laid my bike down as a tied my shoe to continue my active day in safety. Nothing could wipe this smile off my face I thought, but minutes later I would suffer the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my life. Propelling myself from the curve, I watched Xavier, with the speed of the Greek god Hermes, spurting in my direction with a smile on his face. As I overshot mounting my oversized vehicle, I had fallen as quickly as escaladed, just like the smile on my face as I noticed Xavier run a collision course with no hopes of a brake. All I could hear is the booming echo of my cry as Xavier given me a “break”, but far from the kind I had wished.

            My arm had be crushed without my realization, until I had taken the focus off my cries and focused on a limp arm which I could not lift. Tears rushed from my eyes without recollection of this horrid agony for never had I felt such pain. The neighborhood rushed to the street with response to Xavier’s plea for help, I could see the demeanor on his face, as filled with the guilt for what he had done. This is the first time in my life that I felt utterly vulnerable, scared and pregnable. With no control over my senses, sound had been barred by the loud siren’s I heard approaching. Even with paramedics on site, my bawling would not halt until the face of my protectors had appeared on the scene. As I looked in my mother’s eyes, trying to hold back the tears, I waited for words of comfort telling me everything would be ok. Soon I would see a smile molding on her face, as she chuckled and alerted me, “You’re arm looks like a noodle”. How could the person that has loved and cared for me throughout my whole life laugh at such a situation. Overcome with pain I couldn’t express nor comprehend the anguish left from such a phrase during this calamity. After preparation from paramedics I was rushed to the hospital, where a doctor laid me on my back, with my arm in his lap as we converse about my studies and hobbies. I was grateful for him giving me something other than pain to think about, comforted as I would have thought a parent would endow upon their child. My appreciation soon faded as my physician, without warning, grasped my arm and he brutally slammed it against it knee, cracking the bone back in place. Returned to the state of agony that I had left on my dead end street, the words “Why did you do that?” screeched from my mouth as I had felt betrayed for the second time in the same day that played out as the worst day of my life. Months later, with a casted arm full of friendly names who sympathized, I had recovered from what I had thought as abuse and betrayal.

            Two years after the event had passed I had finally conjured the courage to ride my bike again, for fear was stopping me from enjoying exploration with my peers. Trying to avoid any incident like that again, I awarded caution to every aspect of my life to only realize it’s depressing. This incident gave me the first experience of a hardship while unmasking the harsh realization that I am not invincible. I am able to look back and laugh at such an event because it is funny. This tragedy, for me, turned into a life lesson which I will never forget. Instead of living in fear, I compare the unbecoming events in life to the immune system. After sickness, if you survive, the body learns to be prepared next time the same event should occur. Breaking my arm didn’t kill me and now I have a better understanding of a horrible situation, and the knowledge to try to avoid falling off my bike. Revealing weakness provides you an opportunity to realize your faults and better situate yourself in the future. One can only learn from your mistakes and misfortunes when you take insight into a situation. Whenever I feel like my world is cascading I release a deep breath and gaze at my arm and realize it no longer looks like a noodle.


Failed in China

Failed in China

Staring at my clock, with the persistence that it lacks.

The digital had died so with a rotate I checked the back.

The plug leads to an outlet while a battery compartment shells nothing but a tag.

Just 3 words show, “Made in China.”

This repair I won’t pursue, you can’t fix china or the poor craftsmanship they spew.

Passing by my futon, a second glance becomes a stare.

To notice another tag attached accompanied by an obnoxious tear.

Just 3 words show, “Made in China”.

The wife comes walking in, her iPod leaves a braid.

Unexpected pixels from bottom to top and never will they fade.

Apple can be tricky, the 3 words they did change.

“Manufactured in China”.

Manufacturing is making, this sleazy Chinese stain.

On many of my purchases, unknowingly, these manufacturers I blame.

Their workers worse than hookers, the greed gives birth to disease.

For every jobless American, caused by factories overseas.

Not paying American taxes, is this how you support the troops?

I say we ban these productions, abusing loop-holes and forming flukes.

If we got rid of the greedy, everyone would be content.

Companies acting like the needy, so the CEO’s can afford a Benz.

These “Made in China’s” will not work, they kill the “American dream.”

Creating the loss of unity, protected by legality, these Americans are trading teams.


Its makes me realize what little appreciation one has when a tourist has more personal experience in your own hometown. I was born in Manhattan and have never been able to grab the bull by the balls.


Feeding The Formless

Leak into the paper, the constant whispers stop, lost if left for later.

 

To bleed between lines, even without the literal sense, the paper they will bind.

 

Trail the past and dot the future, not yet lucid, dismembered by abusers.

 

Mentality like the putty, you put it in your hand, and pressed as if paltry.