Cause & Effect

Hatred, malice, walls, no door

Cities, countries, all at war

Fighting just to stay alive

Families struggling to survive

A world of waste we’ve made, it seems

Turned to gray our once blue streams

Pillaged, they have done to Earth

All just to increase their net worth

Sickening, it is to me

That they thought these things were free

That all this came without a cost

And yet, on them, these words are lost

As no one seems to think things through

For if your cause would effect you

The actions that you choose today

Would be quite different, I would say

Your children’s lives, you all neglect

Yet sadly, that’s what I expect

From a kind who’s quick to take

And never thinks of what’s at stake

The Fear of Death

Some time ago, I sat upon a balcony, just staring on

My mind, my thoughts, my very soul, sat wondering where it all goes

I pondered whether, when we die, the scrolls are true, or just a lie

And as I sat there, lost in thought, a child came, a book he’d brought

Sitting down right next to me, he looked me in the eye, said “see?”

“Can’t you tell that he’s up there, and wants to free you from despair?”

Softly smirking, to he I said “my child, so many things I’ve read”

“Allah, Buddha, Krishna too; the testaments, both old and new”

Sadly sighing, this boy looked down and shedding tears, began to frown

“But mister,” this boy said to me, “our souls live for eternity”

“And if you doubt this, so I’m told, you’re cast aside ‘till time grows old”

I paused a moment, listening, and thought back to my christening

“Listen, son, for Matthew says, seek the kingdom; righteousness”

“The truth is all I want to know; to gaze upon a clear window”

“Do not let past transgressions rule, do not let dogma play the fool”

And then, with one last final breath, I said to him: “Do not fear death.”

This is Ass Whip Hop

Spare a moment of your time and talk to me objectively

This elephant must be addressed, its been standing there rejecting me

The topic of discussion was created here specifically

You guessed it: rap culture; let’s review it scientifically

 

I needn’t say for we all know that music molds and shapes our mind

So first let’s talk about how rap is so…refined

After all, doesn’t everyone like money, cars, and clothes?

And let us not forget what’s most important: hoes

 

Just hear me out before I twist your panties in a wad

I admit that not all rap is like the oppo word of God

But let’s be real and speak in generalities

So let’s please cut the shit and drop the useless, dumb formalities

 

In fact hold on I’ll tell you what, let’s try something on the run

Let’s take a shot at mimicking the rap game, don’t that sound fun?

Ahem. Give me a moment to prepare my new mentality

After all I’m new to this, I must change my personality

 

That’s right you bitches listen up, this white boy rap’s begun

These tasty bars will burn so hot, like wagyu steak that’s overdone

All this coming off the top, the lid is popping off

So much fire on this page you’d think I threw a Molotov

 

This is not hip hop, this is ass whip hop

Let’s switch the rhymes up on this text

Take a breath, collect yourselves

You’ll need the air for what’s up next

 

Hold up Matt the fuck is this? I think the flow just changed somehow

That’s right ma-fucka I switched it up this game is run by rhythm now

I hope you laced the Jordans on cause the pace is picking up ya’ll

I’ll tell you what just numb your lungs, here take this alcohol

Don’t be shy bitch take it all, open the throat wait that’s what she said

Aw come on now you know I’m playin, or maybe not cause that’s good head

There we are don’t that feel nice? These fifths can always heal the pain

I hope you brought your parka too, the forecast says its bout to rain

 

Actually fuck it I think this rap is done

I think we had a solid quarter Asian run

Oh, before I forget just one last thing:

No hoes we’re harmed in this production

They’ve been chillin’ in my bed…for accidental reproduction

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Lines

Never have I ever wanted to fit into normalcy

Every time I thought of it I knew that it just wasn’t me

Don’t get me wrong, I know that it’s society

There’s nothing bad of being glad and fitting in the mold, you see

And if I’m being candid it’s a life I’ve started to envy

All the happiness that comes along with having a family

Sometimes I think about the path I’m on and start to think so differently

A wife and kids don’t sound so bad if I’m looking at things honestly

But then I think back to that day, when I got down on one knee

I told her I would change the world, no matter what, I’d make it be

That was the day I started walking, embarking on this journey

Using every tool I could, my sharpest sword is words it seems

This pen and pad are all I know, through time they’ve ‘come a part of me

Now my purpose has been found, it was her death, ironically

That made my prior motives lost, I’m born anew and finely free

To do the things she would have done if she were here and she was me

Understand the “why” behind this, then you’ll know the realest me

I truly do not care for fortune, or the fame that others seek

I want a world where all is fair, without the animosity

I guess I’ll post this poem online, but we all know it won’t matter, see

People want their news to heed the sickness and the tragedy

They care not for the positive; the things that most will never see

I pray one day this changes and we have a new reality

But until then I’ll post this, sure, but no one really cares to read

The Apex

Tell me what things I’ll see when I pull back the layers

What’s up in the attic while they play house down the stairs?

What person are you, when there’s no one around?

What things do you think when no one else can be found?

Your face, it is beauty, untainted and quaint

Yet what I so long for lies under the paint

Tell me your secrets, your most shrouded of truth

Its just you and I here in this cloaked confessional booth

What wants lie within, what things you desire

Confess to me love, as we light this dark fire

These embers shall burn with your innermost need

You’re mine and I’m yours, it’s a mutual greed

This night is unending, this moment so rare

Though two, we are one without boundaries to bare

And as the eclipse casts its shadow so slow

The apex we greet, with the valley below

What Are You Waiting For?

All the things out there you see, they’re shining, glistening, calling thee. Why wait? Its there, right in front of you, all that needs to happen is for you to stand and do. Do, don’t wait, don’t put it off, you get one life and time, it costs. Please don’t let yours go to waste, dream your dream with utmost haste, chase it till your legs are through, and when they’re gone your arms will do. Make it there, no matter what, don’t give in and don’t say “but”, this life is yours and only yours, I tell you as I’m on all fours. I beg that people understand that life is not some fairy land, its filled with things we need to do and if undone, then it’s on you.

So simple things can really be when eyes are open and you see, take a glance over the sea and wake up to reality. All the things you dreamt you’d be don’t have to fade into the breeze, you can make these dreams come true if only you believed in you. That’s all it takes, I speak the truth, so much is wasted in our youth, if only we could comprehend that time is not a thing to lend, it never stops taking its toll and always ends up with our soul.

I ask you, what is it that you’re waiting for? Someone else to open the door? Listen, friend, please listen close. Absorb these words before your ghost. Your time here is not infinite. We don’t know what happens when we quit. Some say God and some say not, but either way we’ve got one shot. One chance to do the things we dream, one chance to love both you and me. Take this chance and never stop. Take it to the mountaintop. Take it to the ends of Earth, and give a reason to your birth.

Throughout your life, find every door. Fill your heart, then fill it more. And when you find something to love, ask yourself: what is it that I’m waiting for?

The Ward & the Bone: 4

Days after the Games, the valiant Prince Grr Barker, first in line for the Bone, parades around the halls of Cage Spamalot, the stone castle which the Bites of the Round Bowl call home.

“I suppose you all witnessed my triumphant victory the other day?” The prince howls, his chest puffed out in pride.

“Aye, you were brilliant in the Joust!” His close friend, Grr Pantsalot, barks as he tries to catch his breath.

“Why are you always panting, friend?” Grr Barker asks his companion, placing a paw on his back.

“I cannot say, my Liege.” Grr Pantsalot pants. “I simply feel as if I’m constantly out of breath.”

“I see,” Grr Barker says, turning to face the other Bites of the Round Bowl. “Come, Good Boys!” He shouts. “We shall dine on the finest of soft foods this evening to celebrate my victory! I have arranged the most well-groomed bitches for you all to consort with in my honor! Behold!” He barks, waving his paw toward the centrally located room in the Tower. Laying within are several beautifully groomed, free-of-fleas female Kaynines, waiting for the Bites of the Round Bowl to join them.

“Awoooooo!!!!!!” Grr GoodGallihad howls, unable to contain his excitement. “Come on, boys! Grr Barker has bestowed upon us the finest bitches in the Realm!”

As the group of brave Bites debaucherously make their way into the Chamber of Doggy-Style, one Bite remains behind, lacking the same level of excitement his peers have displayed. Witnessing the events from the Halls, Grr Barker’s own mentor and personal sorcerer, Squirrelin, sees this particular Bite pausing. Carefully approaching him, he inquires what is on the young Bite’s mind.

“Grr Poopsalot, what troubles you?” The magical rodent asks.

With a grave stare, Grr Poopsalot locks eyes with Squirrelin for a moment, only to let his gaze drift to the floor.

“I have been plagued with nightmares as of late, Squirrelin, and I fear for Grr Barker. For weeks, every night as I rotate several hundred times before finding the perfect spot for me to lay myself to rest, I have had terrifying images occupy my thoughts.”

Recognizing the significance of such events, the magic-wielding advisor tries to learn more.

“You must share these visions with me, Grr Poopsalot. It is the only way for me to use my powers; we must see if there is imbalance brewing in the Realm.” Squirrelin asserts, placing his claws on Poopsalot’s forehead.

As the two close their eyes and hang their heads, deep in concentration, the somewhat cavalier Grr Humpsalot shouts at them to join the others.

“Poops!” He barks. “Come, sit and be a good boy! We are celebrating our Lord’s victory, do not be disrespectful!”

Sighing and briefly locking eyes, Grr Poopsalot apologizes to the sorcerer for his duties.

“I am sorry, Squirrelin, but I must join my pack. We shall revisit this conversation another time.”

Obediently jogging toward the Chamber of Doggy Style, Poops reconvenes with his peers and partakes in all the pleasures Cage Spamalot has to offer. Squirrelin, recognizing the possibilities before him, retreats to his kennel to study what this young Bite’s dreams may truly mean.

The Truth

Never have I ever wondered what things lay in front of me, the futures not a question, I know exactly what’s in store for me. I don’t live for today, I live for forever; looking ahead with a clever grip on the trip that I’m about to take with whoever has the ability to sever the ties with the lies that they live while we endeavor to become whoever the fuck we wanna be. And whichever lever we decide to pull is a a tool that we can use to spool and weave whatever reality we want to achieve because this world is ours to perceive. We can talk real or deceive, either way you’ll believe what we create and conceive ‘cause the passion we grieve is sewn so deep in our sleeve that while we want to relieve we just inform the naive that we don’t want a reprieve we’re just soldiers away without leave.

That’s right, we’re AWOL.

AWOL like the kindred spirits we enthrall as we relate to the masquerade ball that we call life where all we do is don a shawl so we can hide behind the wide hall of sins we commit. We try to stand tall and paint over the writing on the wall that unapologetically tells the real story, breaking protocol as it tells the truth we only see when we look in the mirror and ask ourselves “is this me?”

The real you is the one you see when you’re all alone, so don’t lie to yourself and think you’re the person everyone else thinks you are.

I may have turned my back on Him, but as a man thinks in his heart, so is he. That’s right, I might feel abandoned by God but that don’t mean I can’t live my life based on a Proverb that reverberates through me, one you’ll find in Chapter twenty three. And as I fall onto my knees, begging for my mind’s release as it slowly capsizes

in these treacherous seas, I can’t help but ask why this has happened to me. Why have I been plagued by a mind that’s so inclined to constantly remind itself how unaligned it is with the rest of the world. The torment I find in this unconfined, sadly maligned existence does nothing but blind me from the things I so passionately grind for.

My drive is relentless. I don’t care if you think I’m arrogant. I’m real, and I believe that I can do anything I put my mind to. And you know what? You should feel the same, because this life is what you make it.

People will always, always rise to the level they believe they can, and no further. No human is better or more capable than the other. It is a simple question of how much faith one has in themselves.

It’s so simple. You feel your limit on the inside, which is precisely why you’ve tried as hard as you have to get wherever you are. But the ones who know no limits, who know that every great person in history started as no one are the ones who rise to the top. Do you want to know why? Because they don’t stop, ever. They never quit, and forever apply themselves until they sever the ties from their old life and welcome themselves to their new whatever.

Excuses are for the weak. And if that stirs frustration within you, then you have proven my point.

Life is a constant examination of priority. There is no authority dictating our behavior other than our own; and whatever desires take up the majority of our thoughts, we act upon. And yet we still try to complicate things when we act in hate, attempting to justify our behavior so we can lift the weight of guilt we should feel when we aggravate others. We do this so we can advocate how virtuous we are, when the truth is we simply can’t admit that selfishness is our defining trait, lying to ourselves so we can close the gate of self-awareness as we misstate the kind of person we truly are, caught by the same hook that we always bait.

I envy those who can clear their conscience at the flick of a switch.

Sadly, as I write this I know that some will condemn this statement as a cynical rant that I just had to vent, when the truth is that they’re just projecting their own malcontent as a result of the subconscious recognition that the truth hurts.

Therein lies the irony.

The irony that those who misunderstand me are the very ones who need to examine the person they imagine they are. The ones who think this was written by someone who thinks they’re above them.

I don’t.

No one is above anyone. Every human is graced with the same potential as others.

The only difference is how you use that potential.

Make Drinks, Not Promises

You want to hear something funny that happened to me today? I hope you don’t say no, since I’m on the patio of my local town saloon, roughly six hours past high noon, aimlessly thinking as I stare up at the moon and writing these very words that I now recite for you. So if I may, I shall politely presume that your answer is yes. And if it isn’t…well, I apologize because at the moment it’s the only tune that’s playing. So please respect this small commune as we share our feels in this cozy little room, collectively wrapping our individual feelings together like an awkwardly intimate heart and soul cocoon.
Glad that’s out of the way.
Back to today. I think most of you know that several years ago I was dealt a blow of immeasurable magnitude, causing me to throw an entire career to the road as I diverted my entire existence toward destroying as much hate and woe as I possibly could. I did this as I was gripped by an influence that the mother I lost would always bestow with a hold so tight that, unequivocally, I know will never lighten up or come even remotely close to ever letting go.
So yeah.
I think as far as that whole part of the story, I can digress. Because if you read literally anything else I’ve written, it won’t take long to learn more than you probably want to know about her, the impact her death had on me, and how confusingly, oxy-moronically, luminously dark I’ve become as a result.
But you see, I had no other choice but to tee this part of the read up by sharing, at the very least, a brief, abbreviated version of the history which led to this very moment. Now, I commit (admittedly with glee) that for the remainder of this poem, I will agree that you have no cause to fret, as you are all now set free; relieved from the pain which I’m fully aware that I far too often share through sad recounts and melancholy pleas.
Don’t say I never did anything for you.
But seriously…I wish I could articulate the enormous degree of sheer appreciation that I should more often decree for each and every beautiful person who’s taken the time to read the things that I’ve written. I don’t say this enough, but the sensation one experiences when they’re told that someone relates to their writing, or that their work resonates is so powerful it can bring one to their knees. So let me express my gratitude. No pain tonight. Fair?
Man. I should do this more often.
So today I was caught in typical deep thought about pretty much everything I just brought to attention with my aforementioned words which, for you, have carefully been brought. I realized, looking at all the past things that I’ve jot, that the vast majority of themes which I spot are plagued and distraught by the same sad and depressingly dark plot. A realization which, amidst my reflection, suddenly struck me with a thought. A thought (I’ve now since been taught) that I’ve subconsciously sought since that most impacting of days; when the straight life I was used to was tied into a most impossible knot.
For the first time in thirty months, eighteen days, and roughly two hours and forty-seven minutes…I felt relief.
To be honest, I have no idea whatsoever that caused this spark which had finally caused my consistently low mood start to climb, or why it happened to occur at this particular time, or what forces were working to make it so abruptly ignite; liberating my mind from its pitch black paradigm. The only thing I can be sure of is that I was compelled to adjust the tones of this metaphorical rhyme that has incessantly been my life since she the day that I lost her; the day that she died.
It was one of those fabled, fleeting moments in life that we dream of; a moment that most spend time wondering if they actually exist or whether our culture deceitfully represents them through fiction to keep us from succumbing to the harsh reality that, sadly, most are forced to share. I would almost go as far as to say that this moment was “indescribable”. Although I won’t go quite that far. No, I know better than that.
Want to know why?
Because “indescribable” is a fucking oxy-moron, that’s why. Like, who the hell allowed it to even become an actual word? Webster? Who even is Webster? He sounds like a huge bitch, to be honest. I mean come on. One cannot claim an inability to describe something while simultaneously using the very word asserting their claim to describe it. Like what the fuck, you guys?
Whatever.
So, here we are. Finally released from the negativity which for so long I’ve been scarred. Oh, and by the way, I know at the start I said I was sky-gazing on a patio, but I’ve since moved to the inside corner of an adjacent bar. See, I really enjoy posting up from afar, observing the people as I smoke a cigar, on occasion intentionally making awkward eye contact with folks as if their eyes were that very same star from stanza one. Well technically, I should have said moon, because that’s what I said I was looking at earlier in this poem; but moon doesn’t rhyme with cigar. So for anyone that may have picked up on that hopefully subtle difference; please, be silent. Like the lamb.
Or I will feed your inanimate corpse to those creepy Hannibal pigs after providing my inordinately sophisticated dog Mr. Baxter a once-in-a-lifetime feast of your human brains. Brains, obviously, which lacked any semblance of intelligence; a candid truth made obvious by the simple fact that their recently deceased owner failed to abide by a very simple instruction.
So yeah. If you picked up on that…shh.
As I continue writing with this long-awaited perspective that now abounds, I suppose its high time we arrive at the underlying theme which (for these 1,031 words) could be found lurking about these pages in a sort of subtle, poetic background. A point I’ve been waiting to make that for this entire time has been handcuffed; its wrists tightly bound in anticipation of the most profound moment to come around and confound, astound, and surround each and every person who experiences this prose with a most relatable, common ground.
By the way, there are a shit ton of words that rhyme with ground. Like Italian greyhound, burial mound, merry-go-round, circle around, and etcetera. Well not that last one but you get my point. Wait. Circle around. As in, let me now circle around back to the point I was just making before this particular stanza of rhyme distracted me from the message I’ve been waiting to expound. A message that, despite how long it’s taken to arrive, is actually quite simple.
Drinks.
Yes, you heard me right. Drinks. And I’m going to refrain from guessing whether or not that is making any sense whatsoever at the moment. It probably shouldn’t, because a word such as “drinks” doesn’t even loosely relate to anything I’ve mentioned so far. So technically, if you found some kind of connection between the two, you either don’t understand what words mean on a fundamental level, or you’re some kind of savant that can read between the lines so deeply its scary. In fact, now that I say that, if its the latter – please keep it to yourself. Because that would kind of creep me out.
So yes, back to my message: drinks. The reason I thought of that particular word as it applies to the motif I could relay with this 0.7 Pilot G2 filled with black ink was this: its time I end my tendency to over analyze and overthink. Its time that all of the black that I’m used to turns into something vibrant, like pink. Ok, maybe not pink. Pink reminds me of this traumatizing moment I had in 5th grade at the old skating rink. And no, I will not elaborate. The point is, I’m tired of all the promises I feel pressured to keep. Not the ones I’ve made in regard to my life and what I intend to do with it. No, those promises define me; they’re the sole influence that keeps my values and actions in sync. The promises I refer to, ones of which I now announce I’ve severed the link, are the ones made to society. The ones which serve only to degrade my self-perception, sadistically watching my dwindling confidence as it plummets and sinks with an expressionless smile and emotionless wink.
And that, my friends, brings us to the one point in this poem where I very clearly explain what I mean with all of this disorganized, scattered banter.
There is one thing I realized today as I took a hard look at life. A thing that almost always rings true. A thing which, I imagine, applies to us all. From the tallest of tall to the smallest of small. From the one’s sleeping in gutters to those waltzing at balls. From the center stage dancer to flowers on the wall. The philosophical pacifist to the meathead who brawls. That goofy croquet club to Tom Brady’s football. From the Qui Gon of Jinns to the Darthest of Mauls.
I realized, quite simply, that drinking alcohol from a crisp, cold flagon is SO much more fun than being lame and pondering existentialism.
Anticlimactic?
Well, I hate to say this since its so out of character…but too bad. Because that’s the earth-shattering, refreshingly shallow reality that I discovered this evening as I gazed so deeply into the moon. Or star. Whichever the fuck it was. So I’m going to make one final, meaningful statement. A statement of which I hope I can maintain an intimate awareness of for the remainder of my years on this Earth.
And despite the whimsical tone that’s accompanied this piece so far, you should probably take the following statement to heart. So please…I respectfully ask that you remember these words, for they’re spoken genuinely from the most doubting of Thomas’s.
Always make the strongest of drinks. For drinks are indescribably more fun than life’s impossible promises.

Continuity

I’ve had some people ask me what exactly is my book about

So let me tell you, let me try to summarize, quell the doubt

Its about the things we do and how we treat each other; simple see

I knew when I first started writing my first novel, Continuity

I wanted to portray a story, a motif I tried to create

That illustrated all the petty arguments we see of late

Who cares if he’s in love with his same gender, who are you to pry?

Just make the cake and tell them “hey that’s cool, congrats you guys”

Who cares if that old person disagrees with all the things you say?

Just try to understand that they were raised in a much different way

The world has changed, its time we compromise, adapt

Cause if we don’t we’re stuck here man, we’re idle and our minds are trapped

You know I know you know what I’ve been thinking ‘bout

Cutting loose the chains and handcuffs, no reason to resist or doubt

Free your minds and join me, we’re moving we’re not stationary

I’m telling you that I am here, that I’m a revolutionary

The one who’s got the passion and the drive to make a difference here

I wrote that book to make a point, not for fame and not for cheer

Why do you think I stay distant from the industry?

Its because I know they’ll push an image, one that isn’t even me

And that’s just it, I’m holding all my cards, see

No one else can take them, so many aces up my sleeve

I’ll play them when the time has come, the day I that no longer grieve

Remember this, my fragile friend: it started with Continuity

Conscience

Things we think we know are true

The life we live, both me and you

So often isn’t candid truth

I say to this confession booth

What rules are right?

What rules are wrong?

What lyrics tell

A moral song?

These questions, see, exist to ask

Just what, in life, is our great task?

To serve? To smile? Be happy, then

Spread contentment among all men

This school of thought, it threatens, see

Its lessons teach that minds are free

Its courses burned through history

By those that chain; powers that be

The most important thing taught here

Is who to love, and who to fear

Your life is yours, the way you live

The power, yours to keep or give

The many things our guides here teach

Will not comply with those that preach

Nor those who govern, those who reach

For what is yours, an endless leech

There is but one thing you must do

Decide, who do you answer to?

The laws of man, devoid of sense

Or are you ruled by your conscience?

Create

Certain things are always true

Regardless of the age

Ere the days when flame was new

A truth has set the stage

There are certain people who

Enjoy a special gift

Yet many take for granted, too

Our ones who fuel the lift

Using innovation; thought

Relentless drive it seems

Deeply thinking; led and fought

Reshaping worlds with dreams

Ever are they changing Earth

As they bravely write our fate

Molding culture since its birth

So thanks; all who create

This Wishing Well

Standing here, I flip this coin

My oft stray dreams now fine’ly join

The thieves of thought think hard, you see

And mine the deepest cavity

Requiring midnight’s darkness; black

The sound of silence, naught a crack

The ones who came before me know

Shakespeare, Whitman, Frost, and Poe

Together who all see this world

A different way, with views so twirled

We watch as whispers turn to shout

It is these things we write about

The lonely feeling, all my peers

Have persevered through all these years

Standing outside, looking in

At this place of hate and sin

Tragedy, this world of ours

So many chasing distant stars

If they’d only shift their peer

At all the good that is right here

Perhaps then all these folks would see

The difference between vanity

And doing all these things for free

Without the need for “look at me”

Alas, its human nature, no?

I guess that’s how its s’posed to go

But if I had a world my way

There wouldn’t be a price to pay

To live a whole life, full of love

Like the angels, and the dove

No law, no rules, this world anew

Just treat others as they would you

No time for war, no time for fame

No time to play this empty game

Where people loved; supported all

And tore down each and every wall

I must admit, this world I see

Could happen if we’d make it be

That’s my dream, to you I tell

With this coin; this wishing well.

Pain

Try to focus elsewhere

Than the hurt that’s in my vein

I’m cheating on the healing

For I’m sleeping with the pain

I want it gone tomorrow

But tonight I need the strain

It captivates, it motivates

It keeps me in this lane

What would I be without it?

Would I be the same?

Continue with my writing

Would I concede the game?

The hurt is real, its present

Each and every single day

I fear to think what I’d become

If one day it went away

It clouds my mind with thunder

Yet the lightning feels so right

As I wake and fake the day

Then remove the mask at night

My cloak, my shield, my weapon

This torment is to me

My life is locked in writing

And pain; it holds the key

Leadership

True intentions lie within

But as you play the game of sin

The dirty secrets start to out

Revealing what you’re all about

It’s happened since

The dawn of time

And as I write

This lovely line

There’s folks that think

They dodge the fray

But we all know

They’re in the play

Act 2, act 3

It matters not

For curtains draw

When you get caught

Now its time

To take a bow

So write that speech

You’ll need it now

I hope its good

This talk you give

This crowd is harsh

They don’t forgive

But hey, you wanted

To play the game

The power, prestige

The empty fame

Now its time

To own right up

And pass the torch

Give back the cup

Let this remind

To those who play

That leadership

Is not a game

Pyramid

Pain

It fills my veins

Evades the remedies

Reaches all my extremities

A life of love so temporary, I allude

I opt instead for darkness, and solitude

Pen and pad are all I want, they’re all I need

Though I try to hide the pain, each day I grieve

Search for calm and peace of mind, a still reprieve

It will not matter now or then, the things that I achieve

The only thing that matters is creation, look and see what I did

Read and read and keep on reading, at the end you’ll see – my Pyramid

My Black Inkwell

This is a story, of that I’ll tell

As I fill my black inkwell

A pen and pad, it works you see

Yet naught compares to quill, and ink

To sit within this room of black

And think of all the world shall lack

The pain I feel, I think it so

The same as Edgar Allen Poe

A Telltale Heart, a seedless plum

A tortured Pit and Pendulum

F. Scott Fitzgerald knew it too

Society is just a ruse

A dance, a game, a twist, a turn

We writers ask “when will they learn”

The answer lies so far within

A world of malice, hate, and sin

The times have changed, the people, not

For money’s always paid and bought

It’s ruined folks, brought out the worst

The evil, bad, their power thirst

The ones who see it, smart they are

The stronger intellect goes far

The ones who don’t, who lie and cheat

Shall have their shame drug on the street

No I Say

You want an album? No I say

Cause I don’t rap, not any day

I just write, my words they say

Enough for you and me today

 

I get it, all these things I write

They make sense when you read at night

This world is filled with hate and fright

And reading lends a small respite

 

But when will this all change, I ask

Cause fixing this is my one task

I know I’m not the only one

Who wants to rise and get it done

 

I guess I’ll have to wait and see

And keep on writing, fervently

To change the world, its hard you see

No gun I need, just poetry

Tough Love

When you’re bored, don’t bitch at me

Just shut your trap and write, you dweeb

Don’t pout and whine and stare and blink

Just grab that pen and think and think

 

Come up with something folks will read

And sell it so your dog can feed

Don’t waste your time excusing the

Stops to productivity

 

Its not that hard, just look at me

This poem right here took two or three

Minutes to type, unless you need

To count the time I took to pee
Cause then its four, technically

But hey who’s counting? My point, you see

Is writing can come easily

If only you just sit…and think

What We Are

At night, I know, my mind has proved

For that’s when all the mask’s removed

We work and play, and yet we think

Of all the things we want, a link

 

A link to all we want to be

So instead we make a fantasy

We dream and wish and wish and dream

And then when morning comes, we scream

 

We live the lives we’re taught to live

And bottle up the love we’d give

The sense it makes, you know its true

And yet we still uphold the glue

 

We’re holding on, to something that

Is natural, don’t fear it, Matt

But lies, deceit, it rules in fonts

Because we can’t admit our wants

 

This self deception, shining clear

Is why we’ve dug this hole right here

One day we’ll know, just what we are

Just animals, we’ve not gone far