Every victory is a tipped tank carving the shards of me with hard angles, my darn ankles roll like grandma’s head in pa’s stranglehold!

Trophy is gold. Hands are brown. Heart is black. I curse, it attacks, I pray, it distracts, I may have a way to unbraid all the tracks, send the train off the map, this pain isn’t gain it’s terrain on collapse!

My footing stays unsteady. Without the bottle in my fingers my arms start feelin heavy. I can’t escape from escapism because when you’re not sick there is no remedy. Oh jiminy. God forsaken brevity. I’d burn a cross on mount Olympus if it meant experiencing divine levity.

Han wasn’t the laser brain. That goblin was me. Lightsaber straight through the center of my cranium. Severed identity. I’m sorry Carrie. I keep feeling like I’m betraying your legacy. What am I supposed to do when doing right and doing wrong are still being true to me?

TD Jakes said that being famous is the side effect of being effective… like a sycamore searching for sustenance in asgaard- I’m not sure where that leaves me. Honesty is the best policy nobody wants to cash in on. Poets are really practicing politicians posing as paupers and players of God’s midnight song, but late in the midnight hour all the magic of facade is gone.

Too many nights alone. Creating fragmented memories and calling them poems. The sound in the forest that nobody hears is the melodic tone on which my life steers. There’s no drop of golden sun for thirst of female deer, just West coast homeless probes in an autotuned tunic. I guess every superhero needs his theme music. 

But my theme is red light district. Look around. I blew it. And that line might have gone too far, but when you’re the only friend equipped to go the extra mile, you realize…

Most of your life will be dark patches of moonlight. Without even an echo to find your way home.



The Juvermeinx: Confessions

I can feel it winding in from the outside. That cold stream, curdling with hell’s feces en route to pollute me in my denial. Moses on his soap box from God, come to cast me as a curse- Pharoah is to be made an example of, but he is to still be pitied for it is not entirely his fault. He is not the mechanism of his destruction.

I am.

In brightest day and darkest night, I feign evil must needs take flight, but woe the dawn of winter’s summer light, when damnable Plague gapes merciless jaws in unyielding bite!

I am not the hero… I just wear his cape. Make no mistake, no mistake has been made, it’s a tin raid on the roadway to give your heart back to you before you realize who took it. To steer you back to life in the woods, before yellow brick roads become your undoing. The only redemption in daring adventure is to the listener who camps ‘neath the firelight of misguided ambition… immunity to ammunition assertively ascertained by freedom to disregard fairytales as laughable children’s institution.

So you see, though I be yet healing, I am also their pollution.

An unending loop of unimpressive death. Through lips sealed like the societal tomb they bury themselves in, I suffer strangulation even as I choke. Or through yawning maw, and jaguar claws with an artful dodge I steer them towards the mirror. Not to behold themselves, but to see through it… to catch the faint glimpse of the One Life the rest of us are reflecting multitudinously.

That cold, lifeless stream passes me by… eagerly racing ’round mountain’s bend to engrave its sepulchral signature on my cenotaph… proof that this life is the final escape from the truth which is inescapable.

In a world obsessed with a Goodness void of God, I am the plague… or perhaps such loftiness of observation is undue for one of my position.

I am Plague.
I am alone.
This is the way it must be.

Evil Actually

I drink deeply of the shadows…
Close my eyes and revel in the poison coursing through my veins, my name- is deranged. The darkness soothes me… heals me… A perverted addiction to death.  With every inhale I lose more breath, but knowing that I’m gonna be in hell, I couldn’t care less.

The scent of blood mixes with the sweat of my stressed and shattered spirit.  Pain is all that I know.  Deemed by many as a hero, but secretly I’m the prodigal.  My secrets secreted away flow on sea crests of fire burned chests deep into the pit of all that I am.

Lower than nothing, and beyond all value…

An empty vessel…

Shattered earthenware… flawed pottery slung off the wheel.

Writhing in agony.  Depressed into sleep in my insomnia.  Each step wishing it to be my last, but alas, they continue down this path of lackluster bravery.  This winding road of deception masked slavery pretending to be a good time.  So called equal opportunity, but the only equality is in suffering.

I revel in the darkness, and embrace my existence as misery…

Goodness used to be my identity, but now-

I’m evil, actually.

The Story of Love: Part I

I remember it all…

The sweet nothings whispered in my ear in the aftermath of sun-blazed lovemaking… The familiar skip of my heart whenever you would call… The taste of honey on my tongue whenever I said your name…  Truly this was love- truly I was favored among all of Cupid’s victims! A willing prisoner of passion planted in the heart- a canvas, a backdrop, a sidewalk, for you to perform your shining art.

Your art was me.

As sweet a song as ever the nightingale did sing, didst thou sing to me.  Promises of forever and eternity.  Of courting me and learning me.  As our fingers intertwined you implied that no matter how dry the season, there would be no deserting me.

And I- believed you.  Had you been true, I would have been deemed lovestruck from Heaven, but now that you have turned us into a lie and broken my heart inside, I am a fool.  For trusting.  For hoping.  For believing.

I want to hate you, but each time my eyes narrow in anger they just crack in sorrow.  A shudder goes through this temple, and the floodgates come undone… You tore us apart, and drowned me in my own tears.

I can’t even float away- I just lay here… choking… dying… still foolishly hoping that you might return to turn back the tide and rescue me as you have so many times before…  But you don’t.  You’ve found another Lois.  Found another hopeless… romantic.

Someone to believe that cape and S on your chest means you’re Superman, not understanding that the S means you’re Simply a man… altogether unreliable.  Teasing the open hearted with attractive words that mock the craving to be desirable, just long enough for you to realize that you don’t want a woman – you want an idol.

Someone to worship at your convenience and give the appearance of dedication, until another flashier deity comes along and steals your motivation… 2 weeks or 2 years- it’s all the same for the life loved in vain.  My ticks tocked and then broke when you said you loved me, but it seems like yours just hit a freeze frame, waiting for an emotionally stimulated D-Day, for you to drop those bombs and blow me away, then press play… Treating me like a video game, and now you’re back in free play, while I lay cracked and broken amid my shattered dreams and other cherished things that have given themselves over to rot and decay…

Sometimes I lay at night… Thinking of you… Staring at the stars… Wondering if you’re staring at them too… My hand rises against my will, stretching out towards the sky… Whether to pull you out of this tragedy back to my side, or to lose myself in the eternal wrinkles of the night… I do not know.  I cannot tell.

Sometimes I wish for hell, for at least that would give me a sense of feeling… And then other times I wish for Heaven, for that might give me true healing…

But in the end… I choose to live with the heartbreak of you.

Cuz that’s the curse of love right?  The forgotten remember everything…

While the loved just shrug, laugh it off, and move on.

Dark Heart Emcee

I hate the great, I break the gate to the lake
And drown these flippin clowns like ice in kool-aid
My heart of darkness sparks this, mark this
Spot, because my rage is the point of my gaze
Focused on the focal point, ready to tip your axis
I’jm a hater and I’m proudly revoking all your passes
You barking like a mastif, lobo, fraggin bastich
As if, amassing the masses in Mass is
A masterful plan to get me back in my classes
But now, I’m the principal.  I.  Am.  The principal.
Time outs, take your gameboys, sit back poppin my steroids
I’m an air boy… I mean airborne toxin
These words I spit are toxic, but they keep a body rockin
Landslide right into your coffin, you dancin while I’m just scoffin
I’m a parasite in your noggin, the cloggin, clockin floppin
Flippin your world straight upside down, word to Brown, look at me now

~The Wordsmith