Completing the Under_Score
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I write this poem

Dedicated to me

Not the me that you see today

Not the me behind this mic on this stage

But the me behind these years

The me that physically stood just a little bit lower than this height

But mentally, internally sat low and looked lower

Never quite understanding that his height was just a little bit lower than the angels

He was self-imprisoned

Holding the key for freedom in one hand

Pulling the cell door closed with the other

This poem is dedicated to me

the me that felt like he lost even before the birth of the thought to stitch the towel being thrown in

the me that had no chance of winning because

he counted himself out the same time he signed up

with the same stroke of the pen

he wrote his own name in and confidently crossed it out

this poem is dedicated to him

to me

(Found this scribbled down while cleaning up…)

So somebody said I’m a sick poet
Nah
I used to be a sick poet
diagnosed with an undying disease of being bombarded with internal dialog
one of them multi-voice having patients
split personalities
all living on the inside fighting
collectively made up their minds refusing to be quiet
unashamedly and disrespectfully determined to be violent
never was i able to muzzle em up and keep em silent
i used to be a sick poet
bound by the schizophrenic systematic symptoms
found in your average run of the mill mental nut case
both left and right arms restricted in an ever-vulnerable stance
both top and bottom lips forced in the closed position
all systems NO
like me default settings had been lodged at “Just Be Still”
not like the good biblical be still and know
but the be still that mom used to say

i wish i could pry open my brain
get inside the left and the right side
to see exactly what’s on the mainframe
because i feel like i’m going insane at times
i know that i’m goin mental
overcomplicating things that should be really simple
contemplating in ways that jeopardize my future
tearing open wounds that have been closed covered and sutured
see i would tell myself the truth
but sometimes i don’t really know what it is
i would tell myself the truth
but the truth is that i’m confused
disobeying the rules and choosing the wrong muse
because i like to do things the hard way
long story short
hi i’m eazy
and I’m an addict
addicted to making things difficult

why won’t you rebel
you choose to blend and not run
death wins when you sit

i see potential
you only see kinetic
stop, rest, breathe, go forth

moving and losing
making noise destroying toys
crushed legos, lost peace

i saw a boat ride up on the shore
no doubt
its course was set
coming buy to pick up all who weren’t afraid to get wet
willing to take the necessary steps
to be found
ready to set sail with all willing to become unbound
but i found out that everybody wasn’t pressed to be free
i found out that everybody wasn’t pressed to be free
but more pressed with being the fresh dressed impressive cool kid at the party
minds focused on the flesh instead of making the mind more godly
sad to see
but its the reality
the boat was there with an unlimited capacity
but they let it leave them
lost in the comfortable world

I want to get lost in your acoustic guitar
there is nothing more peaceful
than the free flowing waves
generated by each gust of wind sent forth
from your heart through your hands
each chord you play
reminds me of the way God reached into the world
and made humanity
with each melody
you recreate me
i am your pinocchio
trapped on the strings that you control
we are attached forever and i don’t want to be cut loose
you are my soul
sister.

I keep looking in tomorrow’s direction
hoping to catch the sunrise by surprise
thinking that
if I get ahead of the blinding light
I can grab her shadow
and never let her leave me.
Never let her fade away again.

I refuse to let this be the death of me
But I swear it feels like its taking the best of me
Stealing the breath from me
Forcing me to be trapped in my bodily desires
Making it hard to see the truth from the liar
I want the fire
But I’m burning with the wrong fuel these days
See there’s supposed to be flames
Setting the bones ablaze to run with
To run for
To run to Christ
But the flame has been twisted
Still hot
Nothing holy
What happened to the control in me?
Should be the one in charge
But I’m really just the machine
Being run to the wishes of the user
Body, mind and heart being abused for the sake of a small dose of excitement
If only I could convince my mind that the few moments of bliss
Are really beautiful moments meant for wifey
Tossed in the garbage
No pretty way to say it
Just pretty sad to see it.

(Inspired by my fellow wordsmith SpitFire)

I used to worship in the temple
see i thought that was the way it was supposed to be
getting dressed up in my finest
spending extra time ironing out the wrinkles of my sort-of-clean outfit
gots to look my best
gots to look my best
not be my best
because what looks like my best is just mess disguised as blessed
yes unfortunately that’s the reality

i had to wake up
no more worship in the temple for me
because it was no longer the house that God made
it became a fabricated complicated imitated version of what was created to give God praise
diluted into being a thing instead of a being

now i choose to worship WITH the temple
with this building that was chosen for me
brick traded for bone
mortar traded for blood
this temple is alive like the living foreman behind it

11 Word Stories

I thought about calling you but I lost your heart’s number

Seventy times seven seems excessive and my simple senses just can’t.

You couldn’t buy me if you tried to. So don’t try.

For some reason, you transport your love inside a closed fist.

No faith in the aircraft, operator, or skies? Sure, push abort.

My stomach grumbles the most when emptiness meets memories and expectations.

The life lesson learned made the love lost worth the living.

I’m waiting for the sunrise. Keep your flashlights and glow sticks.

I’m sorry to break the news, but you don’t have haters.

I saw her walking away but she saw her future ahead.

Making the crowd jump is cool.  Making it change is better.