anyone lived in a pretty how town

When I'm not listening to music, I listen to this kind of stuff. Lay back with your morning beverage, snack in hand and enjoy the reading...

i think i'm better now

It’s getting better. I think it is. But is it? I don’t know. I just know
I can move on.

Move on to better things. Things that make me happy. Not sad. Not having to stay up till dawn.

Thinking. Wondering. Hating myself. Hating her. Hating it. Love. Hating. Too much. I think it’s getting better.

I don’t need letters, or long paragraphs trying to prove to myself that I’m over it.

I just know. I can see it in myself. How I feel in social situations. How I don’t think about it anymore. Well, not as much as I used to.

Sometimes I would remember. How the time flew by when I was getting intoxicated and depressed.

I really needed a rest. I had it. I got better. At least I think I did. I’m not a kid anymore. Band-aids don’t make this better. It’s strength that does it, kiddo. Maybe I do have that. Maybe that’s what got me through that.

I think I’m better now.

true grit of it

Deal with reality. Deal with the true grit of it. The hard part is to realize how much it hurts.
Hurting pain. Choking agony. Antagonizing dishonesty. Shameful judgment. Lost affection.
Things said just blurted out. Flirty masquerading dancing around without a message of the truth.
Little conceptions that turn out to be unrealities. Little sections of the soul now bombarded with uncertainties.

Continuing with reservations about the future. Never know if they’ll ever be able to give in again.
Short term angels come and do so much pain, but at the same time, if they hurt you’d want to make sure they’re ok. Just can’t stand seeing them hurt. You hurt. This what happens when you deal with Reality.
The true grit of it.

give me mine

Giving you your dreams, give me mine.
Give me that chance to let me wine and dine.
Satisfy, obey, respect and oblige the soul.
Support, Love, and Console.
Cheer up, Laugh at and make fun of.
It's a feeling like when you see the first summers dove.
I'll give you your dreams, give me mine..

a good night's prayer to my dearest.

Good night Dearest.
More to come later?
I'm sure.
As my ongoing suffering of insomnia carries on.
Who knows.
In the meantime, enjoy this moment of silence.
Sleep tonight.
If I don't, I will be here by your side.
Singing verses in the night sky,
Or penning them down.
Don't smile, frown, or grin.
Just be while I wink, nod, and jolt down a coffee or two.
Good night, Dearest.
They'll be more to come later.
I'm sure.

blue

Hey blue. Turn around you and do what you do.
Baby blue. Not quoting any Wilson song. Looking at your eyes.
Blue. Long looks from across the room. Baby blue. I love you.
Baby blue eyes. Yes. You. Baby Blue. I need you.

broken.

Pen shifty. Hands frozen. Lips bitten.
Got to be a bit drifty. Left. Picked her kitty
and said it was nifty. Took off.
She said goodbye. Stuck outside. Cold. The warmth left.
Bold. Trying to convey my feelings into this.
A forum of factual events. Dents put into my heart.
By her. Thinking of last Lent. Were in love.
Sinking into a huge pool of never ending sadness.
Madness. Kindness from both of our souls. Backintheday.
May was when we met. Jet forward to the present.
Broken. Soakin' in reality. Sanity used to be a pal of mine.
My pen still shifty. Hands still frozen. Lips still bitten.
Frost bit. Cold soul. Since she left. Broken.

poem: she say

She say. We say. They say.
They think. They assume. We think.
We would love to share. She love to keep. To herself.
We would want to say one day. She would continue to keep.

To herself.
Express. Thyself. Yourself. Herself.
Be real. Stay real. Keep it real.
Stay true. Be true. Keep it true. To yourself.


Feelings. Thoughts. Confused nights.
Never shared. Never expressed. Never assumed.
Never thought. Was never real. Was never true.
She never said. They never said. We never shared.


She say.

white coat wearing bearded man

His metaphysical thoughts feel like a horizontal notch,
Dragged down. Wavering in the wind held by his belt. Savouring
his thoughts. Thoughts from last night. And the night before.

Blasphemical, Racist, Outrageous and sometimes even Sexist questions
roll around in his mind.
Feels like he's been locked up in cages all his life.
Wondering if he's wrong for thinking this way.
Maybe sleep and see what new comes with the new day.

Twisitng. Turning. Hovering over various metal objects. Sharp objects.
Thinking too much. What will the next subject to enter his brain?
Why now? Why at this time? Why on his dime? The shrink looks at him.
The prognosis looks pretty dim.


The chap walks about. Back and forth. With the clout that most of these
quacks have.
With no facts or tact the white coat wearing bearded man is all in dismay.
He says it's OK and will deal with it another day.

girlfriend

Unseen. Unheard.
Two Headphones. One bumping head.
Beats. Lyrics being formed while lying in bed.
2 O'clock in the morning. Pen and Paper out.
One, Two, Three, Four songs done. Recording this? I doubt.
Use Hip Hop as my Love. My Rock. My girlfriend. My Shrink.
Just able to get things out. Only for me to Share with myself.

awsomematically

Feel like I was an abusive relationship. Don't want to let go.
Don't want to tread away from sleeping eyes and wondering ears.
The days flowed. The mornings shone. The evenings ran and the midnight hours flowed.
Felt like I was with someone. Part of something. Part of something Awesometically great. Cheers with a few beers.
Making up words again, I see. Describing my feeling of that day. Doing good, mate.
Awesomematicallygreat or well, just ok.
I have no fears. Or well, not anymore because I was part of something Awesomematically great.
Feel like I was in an abusive relationship and I want to yell. Not just say.

fickle heat..

A fickle bitch who only needs a fast consistent beat.
The floor gives me the love. The bed gives me passion. The heat.
Going through a door seeing her eyes. Soft as a dove. In her love mansion.
I feel her heat. I feel the beat when we connect.
Two decks. Two records. One mirophone. Two bodies becoming one.
United. Can't fight it. Out of sight for a while, but never forget.
The passion. The heat. The consistent beat.
Just a fickle bitch who only needs heat.

random string..

This is just a random phrase connected with other words,
that sound alike, a poem if you like, like a written
version of a crew of birds flying-by during sunrise in
the burbs.


This is just a random poem of words connected on a long string
of inner ideas and thoughts that have been manifested throughout
the day. I come away thinking I'll be all clean now. All nice and neat.


Got everything off my chest. Don't really want to pest but this is what I think.
Feel. Want to get out. Peal off another part of my skin.
Like an onion about to be part of a meal. Yum. Yum.
This is just a random few lines connected on a long string of other
words to be connected....soon.

least us forget...

In Flanders Fields

by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

chill...

Cold.
Early Winter.
Christmas shopping at night type of feeling.
Hot Coffee.
Chocolate Milk.
Whatever.
Need to warm the soul.
Bowl of soup.
Hot.
Something not too Chilling.
Chilling, yes.
But in that other way.
That urban slang kind of way.
Slang.
Urban.
I guess I'm part of that Universe.
We've come a long way.
Try not to curse the weather.
It's nature, right?
We should except. Not fight.
But it's too early.
Not ready to pack away my T-shirts.
Only to have so much might every morn
To take to the roads.
Afraid not to fall.
Fall off.
Chill of winter's arrival.
But I do.
I do have the urban universe to warm me up.

on my way..

On my way to where J Dilla lays
For three Days,
In the city where J Dilla lays.