A Song to Myself 

Today I wrote a song to myself 

Nobody else was invited

These walls shield my thoughts

These thought I can only keep for so long
Today I did away with you from my mind

I can only drink your wine too much

Before my pain, my hurt, these feelings

Become revellers at my wake
Today the sun did not come out to play

It was the first day all over again

I walk the wilderness alone

All I have for company is my shadow
This is a song to myself 

Dark and bleak, so it seems

I hear Rama crying for her lost son

How was it to know it was me all along.

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Horny

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I’m so horny
But thank God you’re here.
Our favorite song is playing
Marvin Gaye wanting us to get it on,
You look so good
You’re like ice cream in my hands
I’ve loved you since I started knowing myself,
That sounds corny,  I know,
You were there when she left
When my computer crashed
And I couldn’t watch porn no more.
I think of you in the shower
Even at work
And now that I’m alone
I reach for you under my pants . . .
I’m so horny for your love.

Walking Past Marcus Garvey Park (May, ’13)

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I remember the day I walked past Marcus Garvey Park

It was the latter part of winter 2013,

A day just like this,

Me hunched in my jacket, braving the cold wind

Lonesome in a foreign country

No one besides you by my side

Asking me what are we going to do:

The landlord didn’t want to hear from us anymore,

We were a week from being destitute and lost

It was too soon to blow and return home

So, what was I going to do?

I asked you the same too

But you turned away from me

Sullen and lost to your thoughts

As was I, with no tears to cry

I tried to keep our hopes alive—

We’d tried, you and I—against all expectations

Though we failed, but there’s honor in failure, right?

You didn’t answer,

Maybe you didn’t want to, no matter how hard

I begged you to speak

You simply kept on walking

As I did too, with you.

 

 

Living, New York City

2013-01-08 22.05.14Why can’t there be summer in January?

Why don’t flowers bloom in Autumn?

A bird flew through my window, said you’re looking for me;

Lovers stroll in the park

The moon hangs in your eyes.

There goes Woody Allen winning the top prize

In the Woody Allen look-alike contest,

I heard a cab driver mutter that he’s God’s lonely man

Angels weep beyond the clouds:

Look, honey, see their tears fall:

It’s raining over on 51st Avenue.

September comes, and they’re waving flags

Abe, George, and Bob Marley sit on Rushmore

Arguing about the Yankees

They said a law was passed,

But how come you and I still aren’t free?

Rest now, my child

Don’t be afraid of the night,

This isn’t Watts, ’69.

No, this isn’t Watts, ’69.

 

November / Something Bitter Sweet

Wallpaper_by_windsock_at_exis_dot_netIt’s the new month of November. I woke up this morning feeling pretty Bitter Sweet . . . much like the title song composed by the group The Verve. I put their album in my turntable and listened to every track, and it made me feel rather good with myself all over again. So I figured why not put down words to mirror every title track in that lovely album. So here are my thoughts for the first day of November below:

 Life is such a Bitter Sweet Symphony

A Sonnet that grows in the abandoned garden

Of my mind. The Rolling People, they came for me at night

Times they tried infecting me with their religion

Too late did they realize that The Drugs Don’t Work.

I stayed up all morning Catching the Butterfly

That populates my garden,

This Neon Wilderness that knows no Space and Time

Weeping Willow they blossom in the heart of a Lucky Man;

One Day, I know I’ll meet him again. But This Time,

Who knows when he’ll come back.

Today, right now, it feels like a Velvet Morning:

A woman beckons you to Come on, return to bed

Come back to me into this Deep Freeze.

Let us be one again

Like Adam did with Eve

Back in my garden.