Can you hear me now?
Yes,
now that we have stopped talking.
Good.
Yes.
Things have never been so good.
Home » Posts tagged 'writer' (Page 90)
In the morning
before the sun
when the birds speak
and the city wakes,
after a good night
of drink,
the cure all — water
by my bedside,
I listen
to the sweet symphony
in my guts.
Rack focus
to what’s important.
Don’t get caught up
with all the blur
in between.
You’re the director,
the cinematographer,
the 1st and 2nd AC.
I’m no scientist
but I can work a camera.
For those still trying
to make a statement
no matter how bleak
the future may seem
do not forget Kazaam
in fact, it can be used
in many different ways,
like inspiration
to aspire to be anything but,
or contempt
to actually have something to say,
and just for kicks
to have a good laugh at the system,
nothing good ever came
from a cash grab, except
the idea, the certainty
that money isn’t everything,
that you can do far better
without a twenty-million dollar
Hollywood budget.
With
a little bit
of boob
and
a little bit
of butt
girls become women
and
boys become men
until
children
make them
children again.
Soak
your feet
for close to an hour
in hot water
then
peel back
the skin
flaking, like
skin does
dead
after soaking your foot
in hot water
close
to an hour,
then write that way.
black
white
brown
yellow
red
Just colors
until,
we make them more.
Some of us need kids,
or find God,
to straighten out our lives.
Empowerment comes
in many forms,
shapes, and rituals.
The world is full
of newly rich people,
though right now I am not one of them.
And your optimism
that chokes up my thought
is to blame.
Success can’t be found
on the discount rack,
when everyone is buying it.
You can believe
in anything you want, yes
but that doesn’t make it so.
Self help comes in many forms,
all of which are from within,
without a price tag.
Open your fucking eyes Tulip,
and figure it out…
It’s natural for the bough to bend before it breaks.
Take me with a grain of salt
then throw me over your shoulder.
It’s the only way I know,
self taught and still figuring it out.
Just a pinch is enough though.
Nobody wants high blood pressure.
Oh, but we’re all so practiced
in the art of innocence.
I hear you when you give thanks
but that doesn’t mean I believe you.
It doesn’t mean that I don’t too.
Nothing ever is that cut and dry.
Is it?
Now, this is the part
where you throw me over your shoulder.
Quietly
seated
at rest
with desire
though
still
desirous,
he knows
better
than to
chase
the wind.
No longer
a girl
not yet
a woman
she will
find
her way,
at rest
by the
phases
of
the moon.
Together
they
are bound
by
foolish
pride
in one another,
backstroking
in tune
to the
ever-changing
tide.