Sunday, February 14, 2016

Valentine the cliché



O Valentine
O Valentine
How thou become so cliché?
So full of consumerism
Thy men and women become bored with one another
No celebrating or showering of gifts
A marriage so dull like paint peeling off walls
Yet thy woman, thy man, believe they love

O what is love thou Valentine?
If not poetry articulated from thy tongue
If not serenaded by a group of doves
If not a dozen roses freshly cut
What is love?
Thy green folded leaf?
Thy morning tree upon thou sleeps?
Thou shall never feel the pulse of thy heart beat

O Valentine
O Valentine
Thy woman, thy man, believe in not
Morte, morte
Thy man’s influence is not in thou
Did thou not put gifts under thy tree?
Did thou not parade thy streets in sheets?
Then why thou not profess thy  love?

O Valentine
O Valentine
Thy just another ordinary day
Make love, make not
Thy man, thy woman, just in rut
But thou good men shall profess thy love
Not to thou, but to the world
So thou shall know on this day
Thy heart is mine and no one can compete
With my love

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Incurable Mind



The clock strikes eight and I can feel your hate press down on my mind like two drills drilling on the side of my head going deep into my skull. You can try to drill me the info that I’ve done you wrong but I’ve got an incurable mind. You can try to change me and cure my mind, send me to bed at eight but while you sleep I’ll stay awake, drifting away. It’s already nine, I should be asleep but I got an incurable mind. Down the slide of the devil’s throat I go where he tells me a penny for my thoughts, I say no sir I already got too many dimes, a quarter to one and already I’m lost in your subconscious mind. 


You call out to me in your sleep but I’m already on another dream swimming in a sea of ink, trying to figure out what monsters are sinking deep. The sky is baby blue and the land is a curvy terrain but it’s like paradise for my incurable mind. I think I see turkeys in the sky and I don’t think that’s not a good sign for you since you’re a heavy chain smoker. I think I’m quitting you like cold turkey because I’ve got an incurable mind. But just when I think I’m done the smoke turns into the devil and he says you got to ride this ride.  I say I don’t know sir I’ve already wasted enough time but he said I’m already lost on my dime because I’ve got an incurable mind.

Black is the sky and black is this ride that’s wickedly fast that it makes me nauseous inside. Down I go down the devil’s slide, twisting and turning, steeply pitfall, a rush of blood, head fall, and I’m falling upside down in a volcano. I think I’m burning, no I’m just in your mind and the devil wants to play a game but I say sir I’ve got to get home. He says a penny for your thoughts before I go but I’ve got too many thoughts; they circle around me like pesky flies that won’t leave me alone. I think I’m seeing a haze, no it’s a drilling in my brain because I’m drifting away, I’ve got an incurable mind.