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Monthly Archives: May 2014

It’s too late

May 14, 2014
Creative Writing, Musical Fantasy, Poetry
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I thought I had found the girl of my dreams
Perhaps it’s not as bad as it seems
But I waited too long, and now I’m singin’ this song
’cause she’s found another, and now it’s too late for me.

I thought my acts were gallant, waiting so long
I thought she had a man in her life
Oh lord, how sorely I was wrong.
I waited too long, and now I’m singin’ this song.

Because she was always looking, while I
Awaited a booking, at a table for two.
This man, she had, was just a friend.
And now I’m tardy, never invited her to the party
Because I was too busy playing the fool.

My Attempt at the Blues

May 8, 2014
Creative Writing, Musical Fantasy, Poetry
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She makes your body weak
But your heart it goes on singin’
Yeah your love for her
It’s all tongue in cheek
’cause it’s you she ain’t lovin’
And you can’t keep it from shovin’
Your soul down in a heap .
—-
Yeah she’s got a hold of ya, baby
And she ain’t even tried to reap
Yeah I could have told ya, baby
That you can’t look her in the eye
Now you’re grinding and grinning
Cause that love is like sinning
Andyou ain’t gonna retreat.
—-
Yeah you’d take the devil’s hand
If it meant she’d love you, man
But she loves another
So go home and sleep
Yeah I said she loves another
Boy take a hint, and get out
While you still got some teeth
—-
’cause This girls got a right hook
And man, it drives so damn deep
That if she squared you in the jaw
For weeks your ass would weap
Cause she’d drive that love down
Down your throat with a clean sweep
—-
So take my advice, boy now
Just go home and sleep
Yeah just take these two pennies
And try to make end’s meet

My Heart

May 7, 2014
Creative Writing, Poetry
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MyHeart

My heart sits beyond recognition

It has been mangled and tangled

Ripped, and shredded,

Molded back into form,

then torn apart, thrown asunder.

 

It has loved, it has despised.

It has been victim to lover’s lies

It has bled from wounds

Foolish love, eagerly supplies.

Yet it still beats, in shambles.

 

Is God trying to tell me something?

In its mangled form, is there wisdom?

Must I suffer from past transgressions

Before I can escape its suppression?

Have I not paid my dues?

 

If so, please know, I’ve tried.

Surely He knows what I’ve done

He knows of my sins,

He knows I’ve realigned, though

Is it not enough to derive

 

A forgiveness from his bosom?

Is it not enough to bare these pains?

Have I much longer to suffer,

before He shows me the way?

I am a lost sheep, take me home again.

 

Luna’s Revolution

May 6, 2014
Creative Writing, Poetry
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She has the key
Her monoliths align
In perfect harmony
It belittles humanity.
Careening through a vacuum
Desolate , lifeless, yet
No being comes close
To her punctual cues.
No human whim can match
Her chaotic perfection
When the red moon displays
Her supremacy in motion.
While we struggle to accept
Each other in totality
We struggle with
Our feeble mortality.
She brings a glimpse
Of what great powers
Are capable of when they
Submit to her will
That man should not
Believe himself to be
Greater than her plot
Of human mastery.
For she locks us in trance
As she emits a lunar dance
To look in each other’s eyes
And see an eternal prize

Selfish Men

May 1, 2014
Creative Writing, Poetry
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She was always an object to the men in her life

They would say she is beautiful, breath taking, their go-to line

They never truly appreciate what dwells inside her

The mind of a scholar, the heart of gold, the wit sharp as a dagger

She bares a treasure far greater than physical beauty

Yet she possesses Aphrodite’s essence in entirety

Still so much more lay beneath her ivory skin

So much more stowed behind her saint-like grin.

That what selfish-men worship as her exterior is but a vessel.

No matter how finely ornamented, or perfumed it may be

The truth lives deep inside, far from selfish men’s reach.

And if God may strike the next selfish-man blind, he may at last witness

Her words of wisdom caress his heart in a pure bliss.

For his vision no longer betrays, and she, loved as a whole

Not for the objects a selfish man too often beholds.