The Language of Love

I lay and I think

Love can happen in one simple wink

And has many times before

Love is something we’ve all explored

Chances we take

That either makes or break our opinion of love

Fields of emotions

Like a rose that we chose

A risk we take, it’s a big deal because it’s our hearts that’s at stake

Love is like a fire, an arsenal of desire, a whirlpool of devotion, and weird subliminal notions

Bottled up it’s the heart’s magical potion

Love can be good; love can be bad, love can be happy, love can be sad

It’s all up to you

Just as cool as the wind or as painful as a pin poking at your gut

We’re so easily caught up in love’s clutch

Or as beautiful as the symphony or diamonds from Tiffany’s

Love can be sweet as candy or… fine and dandy

Or as spectacular as fire works with quarks and perks

Depends on me and how far my love is willing to see

My love sees rainbows and daffodils like a roller coaster with thrills and exciting twists

Or that first passionate kiss

Have you ever listened and heard like a baby’s first word

It rained yesterday and guess what I saw?

I saw tear drops constantly fall

I love the sound of rain

Love should not mean pain

I used to think love could meet me on the moon and never would be too soon

We should nurture love and give it every chance we can

I choose to vent love through my pen and hope this time love will win

Love has been a symphony of dreams and I’ve always been on the losing team

Love can be a fire hard to tame

Or fall in love and not even know their name

Love has no faces and doesn’t discriminate between races

Love can be paint on a canvas

Splashes of love

Overwhelming hugs

That runs through my veins like drugs

Love is lily’s and quiet little walks in South Philly or silly little looks

That’s the language of love

When I think of love I think of hearts being colored in red or children being told stories before they go to bed

When I think of love I think of pastures filled with butterflies or teachers teaching children how to make tie-dye

When I think of love I think of how excited my grandma was when she brought my first bra

When I think of love I think of leaves changing colors in the fall and couples holding hands while shopping in the mall

When I think of love I think of angels being sent down to lend a hand or birds playing footsies in the sand

Love will be here when we’re dead and gone love has been here all along

Love is something money can’t buy

Love has many questions…

But no answers

So don’t ask love… why ?

Use the universe as your source

Allowing love to take its course

100 YEARS

100 years to exist here,
Chasing eternity
Nothing is as it appears
Frightened tears leap from my face
Time is not steady moving at its own pace
The clock at war with fate
It’s a deceptive chase
My cat has 9 lives but fights to stay alive past 8 teen

Or somewhere in between
And I wish
I wished
I wished the whys

We’re all going to die
Why are we tied to this troubled lie called purpose and destiny
100 years left the rest of me
And I wish
And I wished
For my cat to have
100 years

Morphine Paintings - Fine Art America

mentalnotes1

For Halloween I want to be a morphine drip

To let the sun dry me up

And run healing through this broken cup

But there is no sun in October

And the weather is always better after the rain

The atmosphere is clearer

But the environment stays the same

 

For Halloween I want to be a morphine drip

And sip on tomorrow

And lend out me

And get back things people have barrowed

I want to empty this drip

And let go of Eden that holds on to me with a death grip

The Garden of Eden was not a place

But an atmosphere

And things are not always as beautiful as they may appear

 

For Halloween I want to be a morphine drip

So I can crawl backwards through my veins

And nod sluggishly off into corrosion

Mixing this chemical with the rain

 

I want to…

View original post 65 more words

Tombstones in my Mattress

I’ve got Tombstones in my Mattress 

Waiting for the next certain death

To join this grave site of men and women I have not yet met

I deem it over before it begins

And I mourn these relationships

Over

And over again

I got Tombstones in my Mattress

And I practice pretending they aren’t there

Potholes and traps for all who enter these tomb filled snares

I got ash cans and grey post

That line the belly of this seam

I got construction going on

In the trinkets of my dreams

In the pit of my Mattress

I call it the dead zone

Their building a fortress

And fences

Calling it their home

And they aint even paying rent

I evicted two tenants

And  could care less where they went

I’ve got Tombstones in my Mattress

And I’m prepared to burn this dwelling place

I can’t sleep at night

Without these men staring me in my face

These tombstones have been constructed for over twenty long years

And their comfortable in my bed

Playing spade and swallowing down imported beers

I’m not sad

Depressed

Or angry

I just want these men gone

They’ve been sleeping in my bed with me for twenty years too long

I got diamonds hidden in these dirt filled tombs

Being smothered by dandelions and oversized poisoned mushrooms

My bed has become crowded

And the only person I’m angry at is me

Because I have allowed these men to literally enslave me

I’ve got souls that I desperately need to set free

I keep these memories alive and I hate the reflection I see

I got construction workers knocking walls down building rooms to be filled

While I’m shoveling dirt working hard to empty this dirt filled mill

Gatekeepers come from nowhere, hired in this dark ground of doom

I’ve invited men in to fill these empty tombs

I cannot stand being cramped up in my own bed

I demised a portal

For people who have long time been dead

They have decomposed

Honestly some of them I don’t even know

It’s God awful that their locked in this trench

I’m not sure how much longer I can tolerate this awful stench

Every tombstone has a different face

And a different name

But they’re not much different at all

Really their all the same

I got all these people living in my bed

And it’s deep

It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep

I am on the brink of something really big

Tonight, these men are getting the hell up out of my bed

I want to be rid of this affliction

So tonight, I’m sure I’ll be handing out some evictions

Endless tears

Endless tears fall on seasons

A valley long to describe a kiss

Of blinded bliss

To wish a where

To bend a tare

The deepest parts of my pubic hairs

That left a tear

Falling

The Hunter

He hunted me over deserts and tumble weeds
It moved like a bounty hunter and had leads on me
When I last saw him in Dakota in 1846 he bloodied my nose.
I got away on his horse

Fell to the way side
Posters over dry land.
He searched for me
I moved like a vagabond, running from the ripper
I was a ghost
I thought I had escaped the hunters grip
It scoured taverns, speakeasies and bath houses looking for me
I was clumbsy
Running from the hunter
I was set up
Ambushed by love
Betrayed
It caught me off guard
It hip checked me
We tussled
Dragged me by my hair
Like a fuckin’ cave man
To the tavern
While the towns people watched in horror
Some laughed and held the wanted posters up
Pointing fingers
Again
It bloodied my nose
I chuckled
Then stumbled back
I spit
Spit my death in his face
And I laughed
Wickedly
And it shot me!
And I bled
And I bled out

He took a shot of that dirty whisky
Hand on gun

Tilted his hat

Looked around
And said…
Pay me


The hunter

Words

Perizzites 🕷 lay babies in my brain
Forcing poetic germs 🦠from these mythological veins
I write ✍🏾and put my random thoughts in mind carved frames 🤯🤯🤯
And I bask in my glory playing this poetic game 🤺🤺
My passion has no mercy 🙏🏿
It has no senseless shame
I’m sworn to secrecy 🤫🤫🤫
I have no poetic gain

I savior every image because I don’t want to waste it
🗣Running 🏃🏾‍♀️🏃🏾‍♀️from the Antichrist because I know he will hate it 😡
Using this poetry to soothe my poetic nerves 🛀🛀🛀
The truth is I’m lost without these poetic verbs

My garden 🍍🍇🍒🍓🍄🥕🍎🥦🥬is where I plant these poetic seeds
For all who roam my pastures to meditate and read 📚📚📚📚
It gets hard for me to breathe trying to fulfill this poetic plead
I take refuge in these words this is my authentic bread

My roots 🍂 are firmly planted far beyond my poet’s tree!🌴

🗣🗣So I scribe and plant poetic seeds!
I’m addicted to these words!
This is my pathetic need! 😲😲

And if I don’t write ✍🏾✍🏾✍🏾✍🏾

I fear my brain will not remain

Tryna’ master the art of

🗣Poetry!

🗣Memory!

🗣Write!

🗣Retain!

🗣Words!

Grief

Grief | Inklings and Wonderings

Chimes

Like life

Ringing through ripples and worlds

Tears made brick

The thought that thinks

I have memories sleeping in the cracks of my walls

And faces urging me to acknowledge them

From beyond these grief filled halls

Swells enter corners of my pillow

So I listen…

For the universe

To tell me

I am not alone

Motivated by: (https://dversepoets.com). 

THANK YOU FOR THE INSPIRATION http://shackledandcrowned.wordpress.com/2013/04/12/friendship/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNoiZAFNYn4

https://soundcloud.com/mentalnotes-1/a-thousand-miles-of-highway

Trójkowy Ekspres - David Bowie & Iman by Bruce Weber, 1995. | Facebook

We were like a thousand miles of highway

With never ending transitions

A tunnel

A pathway

To everywhere

I know we’ve been in la-la land

Somewhere far away on our journey to love

Random tokens of affection straddle my shoulder

And trickle down my spine

And I know he sees my silhouette dancing slowly for the moon

And yesterday he made love to me from across the room

And it was beautiful

Like all the times before

And it was nothing fancy but so much more

We were like a thousand miles of highway

Riding somewhere pass the end of the earth

Falling

We were…

We were…

We were falling in love

We played footsies from across the room

And he smelled me

Because I was his perfume

And no amount of turmoil could penetrate our portal

We were only mere mortals

But we were in love

When he touched me I felt his protection

This was not about sex

But so much more

We were exempt from

Economics

Social acceptability

Or prejudice

He was my white

And I was his black

And there were no “Grey Areas”

We were in a magic place

We were…

On a thousand miles of highway

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