Wishing I Could Write About You

I sit here and wish that I could write about you

I’d express to you feelings you thought were lost in the catacombs of my thoughts,

I’d tell you of how much hydration was lost

as tears flowed freely and breath–unable to be caught.

I’d remind you of the night that fate matched us together

When I met you, you were the only one I could picture, and for the better;

You taught me so much, whether it’d be about myself or a game about Settlers.

Life then was paradise, when I looked into your pair of eyes, I was often stuck,

Or you could even say I was–paralyzed.

For you, I know I changed because I would feed you truth,

But to the others it’d often be a pair of lies.

Thus love happened sooner than I had ever realized.

You were my pineapple, and I’d often express

That you were the best, my family loved you, including Juicy (our pet), and to this day I would never regret calling you my fucking sunshine, but damn it,

I digress

This isn’t a love poem, because love here has died without you.

You’ve moved on, I’ve progressed and the world knows no looking back to be true.

Which is why I know I shouldn’t write about you.

 

I sit here and wish that I could write about you

I don’t know another I fought so hard with, or against.

Youth made our relationship fiery, constant nights of arguments.

And then we’d make up. Again and again—and to that, God I repent.

Jealousy in our nature, I’m surprised we survived,

So long together and even years later we’d try to revive

Something that had already up and died.

Every time we are together we always recall

The mistakes that the other made, but we’d say it was “my fault.”

And that same time I sit and wonder in awe

How we got so close by being so far.

No matter the lack of communication

We always find our way back to each other and, thus

invite temptation.

So given the circumstances of our situation

I must bid you adieu—

No more lapses to the past, even though you were my muse,

These be the reasons why I shouldn’t write about you.

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For Play

I really liked ‘er ass, an that’s kinda whud-da met her for,

Had a smile-y on my face that was bigger than a’ albacore.

Approached with a swagger, not an amateur to prose

Had to shoot for the moon, when the chance arose.

 

She didn’t look for attention, yet I stood like a soldier

Intentions no longer concealed, abort covert

And when I caught her eye, like a sniper to his scope

She knew  inevitably  her will would be smote

 

The game I spit was was potent– a cobras venom to mice

And what escaped from my mouth, with a python-esque vice

 

A surreptitiously sweet,

soothing serenade set

to steal her soul

Against her behest

 

With the conviction of a back, I attacked her path

I Ochocinco’d this and Deion Sanders’d that

Touching down the field became my next goal

The ultimate prize–reaching the Sugar Bowl

 

She asks aloud in a heated moment how I’d convinced her to stay

I smirk and reply, “All these game be for play.”

Princess

He traveled through great plains in pursuit of his love.

He battled the natives and escaped bullets large and small.

He wrestled against evil Kappa’s and Kuribo,

And dove deep under water facing the minions of the deep.

He traversed through forests and utilized their plants to create fire.

He took the wings from birds and took to the sky.

With only his reptilian companion and younger brother, he fought against the Evil Dukes of more than 8 different countries.

He dismantled the enemy strongholds filled with masked apparitions.

He braved a frozen tundra, escaped hordes of insects, survived harsh deserts and passed through dangerous caves.

When he finally reached the captors castle he attacked fearlessly.

His battle with the King was brutal, but with an almost inhumane resolve, he felled the mighty king with three blows.

He went through it all for his,

Princess.

 

A story through the annals of time.

From birth he spied her.

They became best of friends.

She is kidnapped by the King of Demons and he must rescue her.

As one of the only links to her past, he braves a mysterious forest of thieves to retrieve the Sword of Legend.

With his trusty steed and Magnificent Sword in hand, he travels in years.

He defeats a giant volcanic serpent and the restless dead.

He cures a forest and a great lake from their demonic plight.

His journey leads him to face a myriad of atrocities and even defeat his tangible fear.

With his guide by his side he retrieves a powerful shield and takes to destroy the captors castle.

He mercilessly plows through the castles guards until he approaches the throne room where the Dark King resides.

The youth survives magic, trickery and the brutality of the King and fells him with a Sacred Arrow.

He did it all, with no regard to self, for his,

Princess.

 

History has recorded these men and others on perilous journeys.

Determination and drive set them apart from regular men.

When all was lost, they kept stride and moved with purpose.

Though we differ in certain aspects, these heroes and I share a similar trait.

This written journey was penned to show the steps that I’d make,

The risks that I’d take and the courage I’d lay,

All for my one and only,

Princess.

Modern day Cowboy

The modern day cowboy doesn’t stress about the trite complications of everyday life.

He stands and watches his herd, his ability to surround his flock in seemingly an instant makes him a god among men.

He wears tattered jeans and well-worked boots, a hat worn low and a plaid shirt, colored blue.

Speckles of dirt on his face are mistaken for freckles and the creases on the edges of his eyes are marked reminders of his battles against the brightly burning future.

The modern day cowboy bypasses his technologically savvy peers by outworking them physically and delving into jobs that others shiver at.

His motto is, ‘Do it first today, then do it faster tomorrow.’

 

He wakes early and starts work, nodding to the waning moon and finishes work with a wave of acknowledgement to the same entity.

The modern day cowboy is a dying breed. He knows that. It takes a drive different from procreation to make the modern day cowboy.

It takes a different type of heart to live this life.

Tears I Cannot Shed

These are the tears that I cannot shed. I feel them well up inside,

I feel the rush up my gut into my throat and to my face.

I feel them get right to the bottom of my eyes.

My heart sinks and my stomach turns uneasily.

The façade of a smile on my face fights to stay in place.

I muster, to the best of my ability,

A laugh.

But instead a sigh from deep within me explodes out.

I can feel the resistance built up over the years begin to crinkle.

My head begins to shake and my throat muscles tighten to the point where I cannot breathe.

I fight for air under the blanket of deep disparity that’s tagged along for years.

I reach for my chest and ball my fist,

I try to control my breathing but the demons inside also fight for dominance.

My mind gets bogged down in thoughts and memories of what should have been

And how things could have gone.

I think about all the times I didn’t care and all the fucks I could have given.

I shake my head.

The thoughts won’t go away, but I shake in hope that somehow I will find respite

I tell myself “let go, please, fucking let go.”

I want to let it out so bad but I cannot. I don’t know why. But inside,

My tears are kept.

The Truth

Shots ring out
The sky falls down.
A mother yells “son!”
Blood soaks the ground.
Ceaseless is the world.
Care not about the sun.
Brightness the son brought,

The land now bleak and in depression.

A sad time, we see that violence is the truth,

A reality to abhor.
Pain strikes the cord, deep in a mans core.
Violence is the truth.
A reality to abhor.

3 Short Poems

Kamikaze-

Divine Wind.

Bruising through recklessly.

Accept my careless nature.

Youth.

 

 

My brush-

Myriad of bristles.

Soft,

Palm Friendly.

A dominator of wild follicles.

Calms the savage head beast.

Like a boat captain, it navigates through my waves fearlessly.

Another day looking great.

 

 

Playstation Controller-

Black.

Symmetrical.

Hand comforting

Like the hand of God.

To call it just a controller is a stark understatement.

It is a force that is stronger than a tornado, yet as calm as a pond on a mild day.

Without you, I am useless. Just a spectator to watch.