Tag: politics

Behind Bars

January 24, 2020

Things are changing for me lately, each day for me seems like a haze

Ink in wells and all these spells that’s how I spend all of my days

Conversations that don’t mean much. Shallow talk I won’t even touch. My hateful thoughts are so enflamed I saw one light up and combust.

Don’t care if I offended if I said it then I meant if you hate anything I penned it’s your bleeding hearts that’s good as dead.

Seems lately that I dream more, but I sleep less

I blink four when I need rest

Lights are off and locked’s the door cause that’s the time I can see best

Father was a devil and my mother was a saint

Half an angel half a demon when they mixed their DNA

Take my time with every line cause I cannot walk astray

Have to prove to you which one of you made who I am today

Struggles, we all got em, sadly that won’t ever change

What we do is how we prove that we’re walking the right way

Morgan Le Fey

January 22, 2020

Recognize where my intentions lie by looking deep into my eyes, you will find I don’t disguise the things that others try to hide – I hate the lies, I hear the cries of all the lives they criticize while all they do is formalize and advertise how we should live and demonize the ones who try to ask them why. Why should I cover my eyes and take advice from all these guys who hate it when the people rise and reach for things they fantasize while spending all their time in ties telling us that they’re so wise but behind curtains womanize, destabilize, plagiarize and traumatize?

Look.

I don’t know if this writing thing will ever weave this thread a string. All I know, as theories go, is that there’s so much that we don’t know. Sure, I’m sure that if a show was something that I’d want to throw, I’d own the stage and make it known that what I say turns stop to go. Lighting fires – I live for this, and you what? I’d be remiss if I surrendered, gave the keys and lost my passion to the abyss. You think I’m hateful? Here’s a kiss. Im sorry if you think that this is something I do for the sys it’s not, I promise, look at this – my feelings all just reminisce.

There’s melancholy in this body, so much I hardly know what’s bliss. I’d take a guess but I confess that all my thoughts would be dismissed.

Where on Earth can I begin? Writing days and on weekend, every time I press the send my mind retreats to things I’ve penned. Words have taken hold on me, clutching every time I breathe. Owning every cry and plea and laying with me, comforting.

My mind’s the kind that can’t unwind it tries to see but knows it’s blind if God’s behind the mastermind who drew, outlined this humankind then sorry friend, his frame of mind was not aligned with what should be – I’m disinclined to get behind the too-refined for all my thoughts are unconfined.

That is to say, to Who I pray – I will not give my thoughts away. I will not let my heart betray the things which I have pledged to say. There’s too much I need to convey.

This mind is Arthur – they’re Le Fey.

It’s Fickle, Fame

January 20, 2020

Samuel Jack was forty six

In his first big gig: that flick Pulp Fix

Martha Stewart was no name

Till forties came, then she gained fame

Guess who else was in their fours

When striking gold: yup, Henry Ford

There was another forty-man

You might know him: Abraham

McDonalds serves both me and you

Ray Kroc started at fifty two

Marketing is such an art

At forty-four: hello WalMart

We can’t forget the Colonel Sand

At sixty-five he played his hand

Charles Darwin was so nifty

He published Origins at fifty

So many more could I here name

I know you get it, it’s fickle: fame

I will not lie; feels good, you see

To know these things, at thirty-three

My Sacred Psalm

January 20, 2020

You want to know what stands between

The things they write, and what I mean?

Not one word have I wrote and thought

I hope this is something they bought

The words I write aren’t things to sell

They’re all just stories that I tell

Art is not a craft of number

Art is lightning, sometimes thunder

Don’t confuse these words of mine

With those who write to clock their time

I do not care for seed or sow

These pages are my mind’s chateau

They hold my thoughts and all my pleas

And bottle all my memories

If I pulled out this cork and screw

This world would not know what to do

Repent I must, this mind of mine

It torments me all of the time

Pause a moment, breathe, and calm

In this ink; my sacred psalm

Seven Cities, Froze in Time

January 19, 2020

Seven cities, froze in time, sit upon this realm of mine

I gave them will and stopped ‘fore eight, and rest to watch what I create

I let them build and make their own, and don’t influence how they’ve grown

City One seems to dictate, and writes that rights are of the state

What the ruler says is law, as dissidents becomes outlaw

City Two, it has a Queen, but crowns aren’t always what they seem

Behind the shade there lurks a man, who meddles every time he can

I smile seeing City Three, for they cast love and worship me

Thankful for the life I give, and all the ways they choose to live

Somethings wrong with City Four, I cannot see them anymore

They fought, they argued, clashed and clanned, then destroyed their fellow man

I put my hope in City Five, for they seem happy, so alive

Sharing, trading, I can see, they’ve mastered their economy

Perhaps they should train City Six, for all I see are stones and sticks

They never reached a point where they shed differences, now here they lay

Seven gives the hope I need, it’s seems their people have agreed

Knowing they are all but mine, they came together, thoughts align

I unfreeze cities, all of them, and watch them from where they begin

As minds of my creations go, I’ve learned one thing: that they don’t know

They do not know which way to turn, which way to teach, which way to learn

I think it’s time I give them rest, with deafening sounds, of this war chest

Life’s True Journey

January 19, 2020

Calm yourself, come closer, near

For there’s a sound that I wish you to hear

Close your pretty eyes, love, and just try to listen in

Yes, I see you grinning to the tune of violin

Lay down the things around you

All the weight those shoulder’s bear

Step into my room, love

Shut out every single care

There is no world around us

Only you and me, tonight

And that’s how it will be, dear

Until the morning’s first daylight

Shed your inhibitions

There’s no cause for fright or fear

Relax, let go of life

Think of only what’s in here

Seize this window, as it calls

For life, it’s far too brief

It’s not about the race, you see

It’s love for every leaf

Know what truly matters, love

Put down the plate and knife

Take my hand and join me

Help me walk this path of life

Steward of the Written Word

January 18, 2020

Devices that are literary, I sent to them a day’s invite. RSVP has been unclear, I don’t know who I expect tonight. They’re your friends too, these things I write: rhythm, rhyme, and all that shite.

Maybe we’ll be joined by awe-inspiring alliteration. Always assuming at the alter if it’s allowed to join our station. All I know is if an awkward audience allowed, I’d augment such an allegation. For we all know that as a host, it’s awf’ly an’gring aggravation.

When he arrives, I’ll check the door. For I’ve been waiting, metaphor. Join us as we turn this page into a platform, poet’s stage.

Words provide my soul’s hydration, and holds it’s hands with personification .

I see the forest from the tree, for we can’t leave out simile. The branches flow like waves in sea, almost as if they’re one with me.

Two things comparing, you suppose? Don’t worry, that’s just juxtapose.

We’re here, they’re here, here’s one condition. Here’s where we find our own position, for here is our friend, repetition.

I see the future, you must know, because I’m keen with foreshadow

Confused was I with all these locks. It’s turned into a paradox.

Despite our difference, you and me, we’re both the same. What irony!

Cover your ears! Don’t let them see ya! BOOM goes onomatopoeia

Since last we met, a century. But that might be hyperbole

Okay boomer, you know so much about attire. Don’t make me laugh through my satire.

I’ll subtly say this poem is done, through this here cryptic allusion

Proverb 23:7

January 17, 2020

Thoughts race through my mind, tonight. In darkness I am cursed to write for in my realm, there’s little light. No pattern plagues this black ink pen, it only bleeds what’s held within. Every evenings dear to me, for ‘tis the only time I’m free.

Free of false facades by day, I cherish every night away. I hang the masks up on the door, I do not need them anymore. My heart belongs to silence, yet, each night I sleep with my regret.

Twisted, tattered, torn am I. I can’t stop asking what, or why. Such sorrow sweeps my tearing eye as I ask myself, “should I?”

How often I gaze back, resent, and wish for ways I might repent. I seek forgiveness not from they, it’s my own conscience I betray.

Twenty three, the chapter is, verse seven: how I choose to live. I’ve no concern for what they’ve heard, I care for only this Proverb. I ask this mirror, eye to eye, a simple question:

Who am I?

The Song of Mockingbird

January 14, 2020

The gig is up, my liege and lord

Nobody cares for gold no more

Materials no longer rule

Hoard your riches – look a fool

This is the Age of Reason, friend

For vanity became your end

You cared more for that soft, pressed shirt

Than houses made of mud, and dirt

You want to hear something that’s real?

Beware, for angry you might feel

Here’s a quick test to fit your size

Let’s see what you prioritize

Pull up your socials, hold out your hand

Peruse through Facebook; Instagram

Look at what you say and do

Do you see works? Or pics of you

There’s nothing wrong with pride, you see

We should be proud when we achieve

But when it slips to vanity

Well, you and I will disagree

Most will read this, and excuse

So many reasons we all use

Take me, for instance, in spite of wit

At times, I play the hypocrite

Do not pick these words far apart

For what I write comes from the heart

We all seek smiles, yes we do

But there’s a limit to what we do

There’s value in humility

For we’re the same, friend, you and me

Remember this, and heed this word

Don’t sing the song of Mockingbird

Brothers in Arms

January 13, 2020

You ask me, why spend life so bottled in?

Why not go out, enjoy the world?

I’ll tell you love, here, come right in

But first let me untie what’s curled

Sometimes we want to get away

Forgetting what we saw

Others, they just prance and play

Not knowing how we’ll someday fall

What year did we decide was right?

What point as freedom calls?

There is no glory in this fight

But blood will paint it’s walls

There is a silence, among men

That doesn’t speak a word

Instead they stand there, brother, friend

And nothing can be heard

It’s out there, yes, it’s out there so

If we could only reconcile

Remember us, who fought, you know

Who walked with you, all of the while

Sincerely Signed

January 12, 2020

Listen, please. I must know how. I have so much to say right now. My mind is tearing me from Thou and begging me to disavow. Is this something I should allow? I need to know right here, and now. I’ve every reason not to fall yet here I stand before and bow.

Why won’t you sit and talk with me? Why won’t you show yourself to me? I question how this came to be and I need answers, desperately.

Nights are always worse than day. There is nowhere to get away. Trapped inside these shades of gray, tormented by the things I pray.

There is no stopping damage done. Not with a book, nor with a gun. Painful thoughts each way I look, and painful mem’ries, every one.

Don’t abandon me, my friend. I can’t go through this hurt again. Don’t tell me it’s not if, but when.

Sincerely signed, with heartbreak’s pen.

Faith, So Fickle

January 12, 2020

Someone has to light the fuse

For He has prophets He can use

Who among us will ignite

The fire we’ve begged for all night?

Burning down judgmental lies

And through the burning ash, arise

New life that now is given to

The ones who worship without “who”

For if there is a God above

There’s only one: the God of Love

There is no other School of Thought

Which brings the things that He has brought

Faith, so fickle, it can be

It’s time we all come to agree

My finger wears the same gold ring

We all look up – to the same King

Fly Away

January 11, 2020

If you saw her true interior

Past the toughened, hard exterior

Saw the sadness and the fear in her

Youd’ve never said those things

Every day she stays devout

And keeps her calm as you just shout

Of things you know nothing about

Blinded by the hate it brings

Granted taken, you have done

Oblivious that she’s the one

Who raised your daughter, and your son

As you tied the same old strings

Never knowing why or how

So holier, she was than thou

Your every sin, she did allow

While treating you like lords and kings

Ignorance is bliss, they say

But one day she’ll leave you away

She’ll see that there’s no cause to stay

And fine’ly, grow her wings

My Words

January 10, 2020

My Words

You may be good with numbers, see

But words belong to those like me

My foundry melts the “b” and “e”

To craft the words which come to be

Every letter that I write is stamped with things I think at night

These books, these poems, the short stories

I write to put my mind at ease

Trapped inside myself, I am

Doing everything I can

Wed to words and ink and pen

Knowing it’s not if, but when

The day is coming, it’s ahead

I’ve followed every path she’s led

Chasing purpose, destiny

As she walks every step with me

There are no limits, the path won’t end

This road was paved by my best friend

No match ignites a brighter fire

For pain is life’s way to inspire

Look at me, look in my eyes

Know that I won’t compromise

No loose ends, each string I’ll tie

These hands will write until I die

Future Holds What It Belongs

January 4, 2020

While you’re posting, making brands

These molds are sculpted with my hands

Faking press is fine, you see

When you don’t care for “look at me”

Having followers is great

But does the content satiate?

Or does it only serve the “you”

As influencers tend to do

So smart they seem to think they are

But when you ask them, from afar

Do you really think at night

That you have purpose, or insight?

Step in this confession booth

Look in my eyes, and tell the truth

Are you satisfied with them

Or is fake a thing you’ll condemn?

You know exactly what I mean

When you read these words on this screen

Do not pretend to play the fool

You know precisely what you do

There exists a world, out there

That means the things it says – that’s fair

You may not know it, in L.A.

But I promise it’s real, today

People living, who have a soul

And they don’t need to pay a toll

To participate in things that they

Want to have hands in, or a say

A place where people get along

Not needing asking, who among

A place where things aren’t all closed off

By those who sin and those who scoff

By hypocrites who seem to think

That I can drink, but they can’t drink

Let’s build a wall they must besiege

And force them to call me, “your Liege”

This is what you have become

Yes, Hollywood, you’re Satan’s son

Shunning that which might outlast

While faking such a righteous path

You hold power, yes it’s so

This I know that you all know

But people are all waking up

And soon – the waves will fill this cup

Bridging the Gap

January 3, 2020

Sometimes my mind puts up a fight and tells me that my thoughts at night are not the type of black and white that people want for me to write

I hear these things, and I don’t know, if I should stay or I should go, for when the truth I do bestow it tends to turn a friend to foe

Never will I understand why lending such a truthful hand doesn’t seem to go as planned yet always returns glass to sand

The crowd expects perfection, see, and if you ever disagree, you’re scorned and brought down to a knee as they say “you”, but ignore “me”

Such irony, the hypocrite, for they once sat where you now sit, all their ethics counterfeit as they hide things they won’t admit

There’s sadness in this mind of mine, for most say “do not fret, it’s fine. Pay no mind to humankind”, the ones who stand without a spine

So empty is this world, so numb, it does not matter where you’re from, perhaps this isn’t true for some, but sadly that’s what we’ve become

Someday I hope to recompense, and if our kind has any sense, we’ll fight for our own self defense

Into a bridge, we’ll make the fence

My Idols

December 29, 2019

My closest friends, they’re here, I know

Em, and Fitz, and Frost, and Poe

They do not sit and dine with me

They reside in my mind, you see

 

We write, we wonder, work and play

We converse every single day

Whispers in the wind and skies

The glint that’s deep inside my eyes

 

Sharing thoughts we think at night

While embers are our only light

A pipe rests by the candlestick

As all that’s heard is the clock tick

 

I never thought I’d weather storms where rhythm changes with the chords

But thankfully these friends with me have given me the strongest boards

 

We built a ship, we hung a mast

I brought them here from long since past

They guide me through the thick and fog

This boat they built with hist’rys log

 

We know our worth, our every lot

Though those we know today do not

Words will drift into the sky

Until they’re read after we die

 

And that’s the way, as poets go

To answer why, I do not know

Sometimes I think the world won’t want

To let someone increase their font

 

And so we wait until they’re gone

And then we auction art they’re on

Using their name, like we knew

This whole time they were genius, too

 

But if the real reason, you ask

I’ll tell you, look at that there flask

These people never cared, its true

They waited, so they could sell you

 

I tell you now, I know the game

And I will not fall to its name

I will break through and I will claim

The thing that we all sought, not fame

 

That might surprise you, but it shan’t

For I shall do what others can’t

Yet now it remains mystery

But pay mind to your history

 

Forces flee when moves are made

And there is not one barricade

That can stop what is to come

For starts have started, what’s done is done

 

Paths are set, the time is near

And when you think we’ve disappeared

Hold your helm, these waters wave

Consuming every nook and cave

 

There are those who sit behind

Just idling, and buying time

Knowing that what’s next is ours

When we topple all the powers

 

Rome was risen, not in a day

But mold the minds of us, I say

We will conquer, we will shout

Knowing what life’s all about

 

Your King is down, his mate I checked

While thinking of what world comes next

Simply giving answers to

The questions asked of me and you

 

Love thy neighbor, it’s not hard

Even if your past is scarred

Accept the things that we all do

I forgive me. Now forgive you.

 

Life is not who’s better than

Life is cherished, when we can

Look deeply in your soul tonight

And ask yourself, do I live right?

No Strings Attached

December 28, 2019

If you saw her true interior

Looked through all the hard exterior

Saw the sadness, sincere fear in her

You’d never say those things

 

You’d see the stuff that she puts up with

While you tell her to plead the fifth

Though it’s true, and not just a myth

‘Twas you who locked her rings

 

Kept her hidden, and defiled

When she could have been beguiled

Even stealing her one child

To sell to other Kings

 

Life is leverage, to these riches

Just like cauldrons, to the witches

Ingredients come not with stiches

Though attached, are “noble” strings

Auto-Correct

December 28, 2019

“It makes me oh so fluster-ated

When I type duck, oh I so hate it

STOP IT PLEASE, I cannot take it

Anymore, tonight.”

Breathe Matt, calm dawn, you’ve created

Something we can all related

For we have all demonstrated

The topic of this write

It does it whew we do not want it

“NO! It’s when*” See? You can’t stop it

Maybe you should just croissant it

You cannot stop it’s might

Cause that last word? No sense it made

A bittered bread without an egg

“Oh my god it’s buttered*, k?”

I told you – it will spite

“But it’s not fair!” You think it cares?

It always gets you, unaware

You hit the send and you just stare

At grammar in hindsight

But sometimes, we can take advantage

If the right point, you have vantage

Type you’re as your, you can manage

Blaming it for such a plight

In the end, it’s just a scapegoat

To take back what we might have wrote

Don’t blame me, that isn’t my quote

It was autocorrect, alright?

The Golden Rule

December 25, 2019

I’m aware that they don’t care about the things I think and say

They’re not good for Hollywood, my words are made for now, today

I don’t pen to make a Ben, I write the things that I portray

I’ve thought it through, if his’try proves, that’s how you pave your own way

 

Pick the rhythm, pull the rhyme, critique every thing you want

When you’re done, I tell you son, you won’t comprehend the font

Looking for a line to lay, that thing went out with every verse

It’s so clear all you’ll find here is just a way to make it worse 

Maybe we should take a minute to acknowledge what’s at stake

Life and love are in this garden, and I think it needs a rake

Ripping out the weeds and whatnot, we can till a solid ground

One that recognizes freedom and lets life live free abound

 

Do the things you want to do, just don’t impede on fellow man

That’s a rule we learn in school, it doesn’t stop the things you can

Be respectful, above all, love thy neighbor and their kin

Please do not believe that you are different, she or him