Temptation

The silence of sleeping, the darkness of night, the sounds of a movie. A new friend, hormones dancing, complicated thoughts. All this creates a solution that brings about something that is not there but yet you start to believe that one look won't hurt. One touch won't lead you down that path, a brush here and there a peak. But you know these are all lies. That moment isn't quite right.

Unplanned Decisions

        A connection made on an unplanned decision
        A conversation that flowed without interruption
        unlikely pairing, in my mind I could not see
        A young beauty having something in common with me
        It's only been a quick minute 
        but if feel I'm getting deeper in it
        The start of the week didn't plan this 
        Now my feelings are flying in constant mess
        I look at her physical, studying it constantly
        Wondering, looking, and thinking how unready
        This unplanned decision has me into something
        something that I just cannot stop doing

Waiting

        I can feel every minute tick slowly by the second.
        Every thought pouring quickly, my heart beating rapidly,
        is it now? Is it now? Every sound creeping closer to that 
        moment. What will happen? What will I do? Will I pass out?
        She shouldn't really be here, I keep thinking. A sound here,
        a sound there. Is she coming? What will she say? How did I 
        find myself here in this moment. She's sleeping. Don't want
        to wake her. Will she wake her. What will she do when she
        sees her? The waiting is killing me.

        I can feel the moments slowly creeping till that time 
        of reckoning. What will she feel? What will she do? Every 
        second ticking slower than the last. Every sound, moving 
        slower. I...

Spark

Random events, strung together made for an interesting proposal. Thoughts began to form at a rapid pace, many moments in total, flashed before me. Flashed so quickly. Filling my cranial pathways in that creative place, finding many ways to display my poetic universe. Some might call it the big bang theory, but theoretically this is no theory but an instant memory reuniting with the fingers to place on some form of device that will capture the many thoughts that flow through the cranial membranes. All in one moment, ignited by a song, a text, a word, a touch.

Phone Stuck

I'm not sure what it is, I find myself searching for perfect texts words laid down, then erased, retexted, re-erased, why is it I can't communicate what I want when it comes to you? Keep trying and finally settling on something, pause wait for your response come back with something, even if I have to change the path of our conversation completely. I don't understand how you can mute me, not even in the same presence, some how, I feel your essence when I begin placing words causing me to check what I text and erase then replace just to question the importance of my text in your life. Again I try and I realize I can't find why, nor can I find what, so here I am with my phone stuck

I Will Not Apologize

I cannot apologize for something you just now starting to realize. That my great out weighs the things that use to frustrate your mental state. That my honesty was not just a fantasy but a reality. Just like you I expect not to deal with the bullshit and I will inspect the relationship to see if it's worth it. I can't apologize for something that you just realize that I just might be a prize. That my past state was a temporary fate and what was perceived should not have been believed. I can't emphasize how much that I won't apologize for something that you did not realize!

Alarm Clock

Good morning, just saw an illustration, of your physical being, stream lining through my neurological, metaphysical part of my mental. Such beauty laced with a certain grace, compounded by an intellectual movement of your lips. Amazement as I dreamed of you in a way that had me at awe of all that you had to offer. Seduction was your oral gifts, intelligence was your mental make up, and your stunning beauty displayed in the physical had me stuck. I only watched you in my dream, dreaming of a way to obtain you, I could not move, you suspended my movements. You forced me to gaze at your beauty as you spoke life into yourself. Your speech teased me, orgasmic to my ears, your intelligence pierced my being but I could not understand why I could not join you, it was like, like, you were getting off teasing me. I was angry and turned on all at the same time. Your voice music to my ears, your lyrics were poetic, in a long seductive format, your screaming of pleasure, awoke me to my alarm clock

Late Night

Late night listening to songs from my time, thinking about these next lines next to wondering about this girl who has been occupying my mind. Facebook scrolling, music playing, refraining from texting, only cause I have nothing worth while to be saying, poetry is my next avenue, need to create something new, something great, something that will open up the gate, but I'm just here listening to music with nothing to write on this late night.

Wyclef the Carnival, the album, playing in the background, the people of the trailer sleep, music tapping, the speakers displaying the beat. Then hit me the muse, the poetry, flowing through my blood line, a love song poetically written, smooth like, bobbing my head cause I finally feel it, write it then respect it, cause it's late night, and it's time to write.

Late Night, final stanza, nothing makes sense in this poetical version of my late night. However, it's not about this one, but the next one, and I'm feeling great, cause she's on my mind and the music is finally speaking to me. Calling up my old ways, creating my new ways, imagery displays, the mood that escapes in the most beautiful ways.

Transmutation

          When you're younger you don't recognize the difference
          It comes so quick and you look back at the distance
          Just natures way of growing, compounding the years
          Then time suddenly slows, while keeping the same pace
          And change flows, not quickly, the opposite of a race
          You know something is happening, you hear jeers
          Your on mind a constant chatter, search for quiet
          Cut everything off, no resistance don't even fight it
          As these vices begin to fade, receive information
          You find peace in solitude, realize your purpose
          Go into your cocoon, come out, feel your confidence
          Growth? Evolution? Transformation or transmutation

Took Place

I wasn't allowed to catch my feeling at the moment the transition took place. There was this battle this argument about what took place. Yet I wasn't involved, I knew it was coming but this time, I tried to see what took place. What caused this disruption? Was it something I said? Should I have not revealed something. As I'm writing, the replay shows that I spoke to the wrong person. This has to be the reason. It's that feeling that came that I can't explain. It's I knew I was going to this eruption. Or is it that I really just didn't want to go to work? So I create this fantasy that I'm going bizerk? Is this form of manipulation still in me? Was that episode of feeling rage some excuse to play hooky? Is any emotion that I based in reality? This doesn't even feel real, yet I'm writing something tangible. Something I'll be able read at a later date. The fact all this is happening suggest that I maybe ill. I know this is something everything inside of me will battle. Yes, I'm fine. The question is why did all this take place?

I write

I write, fantasy is where I live. Reality escapes me so I write. The many inside of me give me the reason to remain free. I write to tell my story in so many different creative ways. My poetry speak of my emotional pathways. My Novellas paint the picture my mind creates these delusions. My short stories tells chapters of my many lives.

Prison and Freedom

They call it childhood trauma. An entire show, mental drama. A coping mechanism that helps keep one safe. If this is the case then do I have faith? Am I not me, my mental capacity won't allow me to have faith that God got me. Is it a simple way to just give in to my dark desires? I am a spiritual being but just as there is calmness there is fires. Fires that rage uncontrollably through out my soul and the only way to escape is to leave it altogether and let it burn until all things are cleansed through an outlet of undesirable meanings. They call it childhood trauma, yet I don't feel like my actions keep me safe. I believe the opposite and this is why I question my faith. My reality is twisted and I spend an entire time in some world that is unrecognizable to the people around me. In fact most people can't even visit it and even more people don't even know it exists. I see a therapist but he only sees what I allow him to see. I've been operating under the notion that I indeed do suffer from childhood trauma. The truth is that this can't really be the case. I existed way before the craziness of my childhood had any chance to shape me. And because of this, I know that my faith is the way I am able to move through this world. In fact, my faith is my prison and my freedom.

Timing

        Is it possible I didn't meet you because I was 20 and you was 16
        Is it possible I didn't meet you yet because I was evil and mean
        Is it possible I didn't meet you because I was immature and unready
        Is it possible that I needed to experience how bad things can be
        Not sure why you were just a fantasy a woman that did not exist
        Exist in my time, my world, was it really that I wasn't ready 
        Maybe so, maybe it wasn't my time and you weren't revealed to me
        I couldn't have you because I didn't understand how to treat women properly
        I needed to be blessed with a daughter to change my whole outlook
        I needed to have certain woman in my life to appreciate what it took
        My soul spent my whole life searching for you while I went through my experiences
        Every day was spent learning how to be with you and fulling your fantasies

My Own Company

        Never thought I be here with you, now I don't know what to do
        history repeats itself, it starts out slow but it's nothing new
        I try and try even after I say I would never try again
        What type of woman, what type of man how is this possible and
        why do I think I can be that man that can face these emotions
        when I'm proven over and over again I can't handle the commotion
        Now I'm sitting listening to sad music wondering how I'll break free
        how can I disappear and not be bothered by anybody 
        I don't wanna be here where people can see me
        I just want go and surround myself with silence 
        Never to speak of this ill fated trip
        and enjoy my own company.

If I Could Speak

If I could speak I would tell you how scared I am. If I could speak I would tell you how much I don't believe in the impossible. If I could speak I would tell you to leave me alone. The truth is I cannot speak. I cannot talk, I cannot have a honest conversation without feeling the frustration of the intended party. What's worse then that I don't understand what it all means. What I know is that people get angry with me all the time. Maybe not early but eventually. I wish I wasn't this way. I wish I could be normal and live a normal life. A life without comprehension of any kind of strife. I wish I could speak and be free of everything that comes with speaking but I cannot speak without this fear and therefore all I can do is wish. Except in order to wish you have to speak and this is the one thing I cannot do.

Doesn't Really Matter

All I can think of is that it doesn't really matter. So the thing to do is to say fuck it forever. This my specialty though, I don't have to know, but I do know that it has to be a woman because my niggas don't care.

The Evil One

The world shows there are no true colors. Jealousy is the epitome of the world that we live in. I almost feel like I am better off being the evil one.

Stuck in the Past

I just want to write something beautiful, something classic. Listening to music hoping that it spark something nostalgic. But my writing is reading or looking a bit lethargic. Sitting hear with songs on repeat is awfully tragic. Maybe I shouldn't be looking backwards but I'm stuck in the past. How can I come to the present

Impossible

Strictly writing bullshit just to write poetry. Mission impossible, eyes heavy, up 24 hours straight, no deadline, still words dry up into spit. Typing slowly but consistantly no time to wait. Produce this line, then the next.

Scripted Imagery

Where imagination is scripted through imagery