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No Regrets/No Sweat

Surfing the Waves Life Sprayed Out the Hose

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I know it has been awhile since I last posted a note on my blog, but college is merciless! Although, I will be resuming posting updates, I just wanted to make a quick announcement that I’m very proud of. The announcement is that some of my poems have been published in a book called “Making Waves”!! I am very honored and excited to have the opportunity to have my writings published! I’d like to thank my publisher, Swyers Publishing, my family and friends who have supported me, and last but not least GOD. I could not pick up a pencil without His Love and omnipotent Hand in my life. If you’d like a copy of the book it is available to be ordered from Barnes & Noble (click on the photo), Amazon or Swyers Publishing website.

Thanks for all the support!!


A colorful musician
Wanna tell it all
color is in position
Painted on the wall

Blind folded from fear
Truth clear as ice
I’ve traveled far and wide
You are my paradise

Indecisive to sit or move
Remedy to my addicition
Swivel and face me
Break my strobe light conviction

Kiss between my flicker
Too dizzy for reasoning
Put us in a pot of luck
Our love needs seasoning

Banging on a wall
Sun shines over the blinds
Light pierces your heart
Can’t get you outta my minds


oil and water?

Image by Hilarywho via Flickr

Maybe if the spoon was made of gold,
just maybe, things might mix and become
something rich & appealing. But, I chose silver, I
chose silver to agitate the contents in, what was, a red bowl.
If love was water and the antgonist of it was oil,
would they come together? Can purity and slippery
notions work together as bread and wine? Bread and wine
are essential to the contentment of souls, alike the blood beneath skin.
But, even a drunkard couldn’t see how the bottle in his left hand
and the cross in his right can combine in harmony. I continued to
stir, I persisted to see if the two would become one,
my guests were waiting. My wife advanced from the living room into the kitchen
where I was hastily at work. “Dear, our guests are….slow down
before the China becomes ruin!” Oh, how I wish she knew; I accelerated my
revolutions recklessly. I wanted to witness rebellion and law atone. If they
refused, then so be it, the bowl will shatter and my hands
would feel the red horrific revelation. The epiphany of the hatred for
unification oil and water shared. They knew more than I that my action
was the birth of war. Kindling in the deep an amalgamation so
destructive, in process, that it would cause me to go mad with failure.
But, I continued to scratch the bowl with the metal’s revolutions.
My guests were waiting. They were expecting a refreshment, both sacred and
rebellious in nature, that would go down easy. I was told it would never be perfect, but
I pressed to test that theory. Maybe, at the right speed, at the right time, in the right
air, in the right Light, on the right day, at the right kitchen, with the right money,
with the right clothes, with the right spoon, at the right angle, with the right music,
with the right words, at the right height, with white lies, I could prove them wrong.
I failed. Indeed, the red world of the two sides shattered into oblivion. My hand trembled
in the blood of my foolishness. I stood in the embarassement of my crass objective to combine
oil and water. I cleaned the wastes of the war I orchestrated and sat with displeasure.
I concluded it was better to just give my guests water, for safety’s sake. For I did not
want to know the vague outcome of consuming my concoction or sin alone.

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The road behind is long and lost,
covered in glass and petals.
There were moments both good and horrid,
There were notions both clear and vague.
But, still we kept the bush burning,
Till death of no breath with soot in our lungs.
Even as we perished slowly, the bush still burned.
And even as the black came, our eyes were still open.

A change of setting for you and I,
Though expired, again we were-revived.
Again, for another play we acted in.
“Let live” we said to the flame as our performance continued.
You danced hither and fro for the crowd,
I flew along the line of the hero.
But when you tripped, my cape vanished.
And when you fell, my power was banished.
We fell together, you into my arms,
Cherished our last breath, you in my arms.

Now, I await here at my desk in Paris for you to be revived.
Sadly, I’m alone, waiting patiently for you to be revived.
I’ve blown into the flame to keep it live for when you are revived.
I’m writing to you now, to read when you are revived.
It is a memorabilia of a discovery I made, after I was revived.
The discovery that it wasn’t our bodies, but our love that was revived.
I’m certain you’ll understand, when you are revived…

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Meek my shirt is to the wind,

swaying me here and then.

Coiled around a finger,

disguise the pain that lingers.

Turn to the right,

the blade burns with a bite.

Shuffle to the left,

search for comfort on my left.

One hundredth time in my mind,

the pain is real enough to find.

I’ll admit I’m submissive,

only because I’m permissive.

Pains and aches can be gone with the sea,

but ride a wave back from the sea.

It could slap my sixth string,

quickly, seductively, only to sting.

It crawls on me like a woman,

steals my comfort like a woman.

Unlike a woman, they won’t run away.

Unlike a woman, they will stay on any day.

Shoulder pains on my sleeve,

won’t be gone till I freeze.

Meek my shirt is to the wind,

swaying me here and then.

Coiled around a finger,

disguise the pain that lingers.

 


Mittens frozen in this cold town,

But I’m on my way to believing.

Melted down to hear that sound,

beneath me that spells what I’m achieving.

Blue lines flow out of one little cloud,

Lines or stripes that I’ve earned respectively.

Sewn by angels to tame the lion from being proud,

Pray for a ballad to pose we learn perpetually.

 

I recall a time I paced slowly through this city,

looking at my hand seeing a small one in mine.

She asked me, “Do you think that I’m pretty?”

I said, “As I, your father, you will do just fine.”

“Is fine enough for this city?” was her follow,

she was early on, bless her for not understanding.

I answered, “Be fine enough to leave this city like the swallows,”

“See the beauty within you, and soar out to outstanding.”

 

Early on, when children knew the universe,

silver was diamond and diamond was divine.

Early on, when age was the only curse,

blindness became light, adolescence reached to refine.

We sing, we dance, we come to believe,

into another day where these things strip us naked.

Coats of sin, blasphemy, sorrow we once wore and received,

we’re stripped down to His beauty we once thought was jaded.

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Hiatus

Hiatus till I can find another year

Hiatus, I quit

Hiatus till I can find my own year

Hiatus, I quit, I’m done

Hiatus till I can find a brighter year

Hiatus, I quit, I’m done, now to learn

Hiatus till I can find another year

Hiatus, I quit, I’m done, now to learn from gold

Hiatus till I can find my own year.