Killing – Poetry

I don’t know where I was going with this…it kind of just came out some time ago…

Killing

She just sits, staring, sighing, silent, alone

No one to help her get over the fact that she’s quietly dying at home,

Shit – she is the real reason that I’m writing this poem.

Blank faces, contemplating, never smiling, forced but not appreciated the way she takes care of another woman’s child and,

The pain that spews from his mouth is anything but mild and,

Wishes taking her back to when she was child again,

Wanting to genuinely smile but then,

Present situations violently hit her membrane,

Wanting to keep her cool but past instances temps to drive her insane,

Her cool was never too cool more like an Iraqi’s bomb,

Explosive attitudes ticking,

She calms, and thinks about her mom,

Trials and tribulations that took place in and out her home,

No one here for her defense or to tell them that they’re wrong,

Voice of a songbird she doesn’t even sing a song,

It’s more like she cries it,

Pushing and packing them boxes with bloodshot eyelids,

She told herself she would always push through the odds when,

They ever met her,

So stealing and raping her cheddar she said to them, “that’s ok, one day I promise, I’ll do better,”

But those noisy nights have never seen cheeks any wetter.

Damaged Sticker – Poetry

Bullets are sprayed in the air
and I’m shot down
my smiles now are now replaced with frowns
my heart has been shot
feels like I’ve been stabbed in the back
a massive heart attack
has left me feeling like
one side of my body can’t sustain
as though I’m only half paralyzed with pain
because the other half has to maintain
that crippling facade that my
soldier soul can continue on
walking  strong
all the while my armor is ripped
from all the silent tears that drip
drop down onto the new badge
that replaced the one that use to flicker in the light
my new damaged sticker is in plain sight.

I’m the person that you put back on the shelf
the contorted version of yourself,
the one that no one else sees
the person with heavy insecurities
the one who can’t be found
the one chained and bound
to the sound of pure silence…

Didn’t Queen sing “another one bites the dust”
and yet, I feel like the one left in the dirt
with the blood of my mangled body on my shirt
the blood from cuts so deep
they won’t seem to heal,
body so cold, it can no longer feel
still crying even though I’m all cried out
trying to find a river to ease this drought
all the while you all see me and start to snicker
pointing and laughing at my damaged sticker.

Drinking More Sorrow Than Cola – Poetry (Performance)

 

 

 


One of my favorite original pieces that I’ve always wanted to perform, but never had the courage to. 

I recorded the audio (forgive me, it’s not the best audio ever)  and created a video with the words so that you may follow along. I hope that you’re able to hear everything and I guess, feel the embodiment of the time I was going through when I wrote this. 


 Hope you enjoy!