Together Part 2 – Poetry W/Audio
It was my inner purple
That translated
***
Non-verbal’s
***
Into signals
***
You stimulated my glow
Created waves
And made my juices flow
You hand molded me into the sweetest kinda’ cookie dough
***
I melted into your milk
***
And crafted the smoothest pattern
Felt on me like silk
And so
We
***
!Gen-er-rate-ed!
***
Electricity
***
!Together!
These poems were actually part of a never ending word play in 2013. The 7 parts are my comments, the writer I was writing with has some pretty great responses also and can be viewed at the link below. I am always looking for ways to keep this blog alive and what better way than to dig up archives from 2013!
A Thousand Mile of Highway – Audio Poetry
Together Part 1 – Poetry W/Audio
Midday waits on a still noon
Winter
Covering only
Me
And you
Sired to a glaciers wall
We become one with nature
All over our bodies
Snow flakes fall
You blew life into my mane
And kept garland growing inside my small animal brain
And so
Here we are
Me
And you
Being cared for
~~~
!Together!
!Together!
These poems were actually part of a never ending word play in 2013. The 7 parts are my comments, the writer I was writing with has some pretty great responses also and can be viewed at the link below. I am always looking for ways to keep this blog alive and what better way than to dig up archives from 2013!
Love – Poetry
Pixie – Poetry W/Audio
It was a demon!
A CURSE FROM THE BEGINNING
BECAUSE ADAM WAS AFRAID TO TAKE THE LEAD
AND GOT EVE TO DO HIS DIRTY DEED
Sent to terrorize this empty room
She hates me and berates me
At least that’s what I presume
***
I’ve even given this thing a name this thing is cwwwazzy and dramatic she’s
become impossible to restrain
***
She has her own personality
Her name is Pixie
And sadly she’s part of my reality
***
Their like monsters that dance around in strange little groups
Dropping coal mines on my womb
Marching fiercely like military troops
***
In my mind strange things happen and I am forced to assume
As Pixie dances harder
Between my bloody womb
***
In five days she’ll be gone
And I’ll be left cleaning up her mess
Because I’m normally prompted to be mean and nasty
Under Pixie’s cramped up stress
***
When its all over I will give my belly some much needed rest
Trying desperately to hide next month
From Pixie’s curse called
PMS
Goodness and Mercy – Poetry
I feel there is something
Or someone who or that
Is always there
Watching over and protecting me
They are surely the perfect pair
They aren’t conflicting or argumentative
They are loving
And if you ask me
Much too fair
And even when I was angry
Their love was always there
It’s some Jesus stuff they sprinkle
When things are dark like night
And they will never leave or forsake me
No matter how tuff the fight
There is one thing I am sure of
Although my choices aren’t always right
Goodness and Mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life
I Waited for November (dVerse) Audio
Painting by Edward William Cooke, Venice, A November Evening in the Lagoon (1859)
I waited
She said this was the safest place
It was 1800 hours and I felt the sadness engulf me
As I looked on past the sunset
Blank with guilt
I waited
And I waited
And I waited for her
Days came
And they went
The sun shifted
And it bent
I talked to the gods
Bowed my head hopeful this would be rectified if I repent
But the water
Froze still
And the quiet consumed me
And I knew
She was gone
But
…
I waited
The floors creaked and the halls reeked of many things
And this house knew just what hell this dark could really bring
Drunken silhouettes lined the walls staring blameless straight ahead
Mouthing bad words backwards of everything this house has said
Toy clowns make sounds that only this house could hear
The little girl who lived inside knew
But the others were unaware
Because her eyes saw thing they didn’t
Then the image would disappear
Mom, dad and little girl walked quietly down the halls
Shadows stared pointing fingers
From behind these haunted walls
The air is cold
The wind is strong
Inside this haunted house
The little girl heard every word
But to the visitors
This house stood quiet as a mouse
Mummified tombs
And vacant rooms
Consumed this haunted house
The stench became stronger
Straight from its haunted mouth
And when she tried to warn others that things were not all clear
They looked at her
Patted her head
And brushed her off as weird
The things the walls would tell her
They often cried out loud
She covered her ears
Shook her head real hard
The words were not for a child
I knew the house was black
But the visitors would say…
What a pretty color blue
I looked at them with tainted thoughts
And just pretended everyone else knew
The things this house would tell me
So shaken by its pain
As I got older…
I started to believe everyone but me was sane
I looked at visitors with squinted eyes
Paranoid by their smiles
I made mental notes of each visitor
And planted them in my haunted files
Their evil grins confused me
Like actors, I watched them take their place
While some blended with the walls
It was hard to hide their face
I told this house to leave me
And stop talking in my ear
No matter how hard I tried
The walls I could still hear
We moved and I was so happy
But the wall where still the same
The haunted house had followed me
And I was unprepared for these fucking games
I met the next door neighbor
A boy about my age
I seen the faces peer at me
Beyond his twisted rage
He had something trapped
He held it close
He kept it in a cage
I knew I had to be dreaming
Please turn this FuCking page!!
I asked him what it was
He said his haunted house
But there was nothing in that cage
But just a simple mouse
I couldn’t make him see
What he believed was really their
I looked at him
Shook my head
And brushed him off as weird
We look from different lenses
And it’s hard to find the truth
After meeting this boy
I knew it was time
To do some construction on this haunted roof
It’s frightening to believe that…
I was my haunted house
I silenced the walls
They cannot speak
I WROTE away their mouth
The sun could not penetrate these dark and hollow walls
I try not to answer even when the voices call
Now, the cries are still here
But muffled and not so clear
A lot of the things the house said to me
Was really hard to fucking hear
The meds help tame the thoughts
And the voices from the walls
The house is not that scary
But really very small
The walls are really angry
I suppose because I am FREE
I now know
That this haunted house
All along was really ME
FREE ME (POETRY W/ AUDIO)
Creative freedom ❤
FREE ME!!!
http://soundcloud.com/mentalnotes-1/free-me
TAINTED BY THE BEAUTY OF THE AMARICAN FLAG
A WARPED VISION
ITS DISGUISE
A RED, WHITE AND BLUE RAG
DEEP IN THE BYOU’S WERE…
THE BABIES MY GRANDMOMMA HAD
WHILE GRANDPOPPA LOOKED ON ANGRY, POWERLESS AND MAD
LAND OF THE FREE
YOU CANT FOOL ME
THIS RAG IS TAINTED WITH HYPOCRISY
RIVERS STILL TORTURED, DAMS STILL RED
AND SHE USE THAT SAME COLOR TO REPRESENT OUR FUTURE THAT’S STILL DEAD
CENTURIES
OLD HAG!!!!
I AINT GOT NO LOVE FOR THIS CLOTHE
SO F*** THE AMERICAN FLAG!
Please don’t come for me in the comments, it’s called creative freedom ❤
mentalnotes1 