These are in my opinion my best works and were able to get me a ticket to perform in the National Poetry Slam that will be taking place in the Twin Cities of Minnesota during the first week of August. Super excited considering it's less than an hour away from my sister and niece's I haven't seen in 5 years.

Obviously love comments and if any of you have any constructive critisism I'm all for hearing it!

Do keep in mind this is performance poetry and much different than just regular read from the page poetry...



Forsaken

Talk is cheap-
and silence is golden,
but everyone is buying high and selling low
making a stock of thought only two cents,
and you paid to listen
When a picture's worth a thousand words
and you can't piece together that gadget with pictures alone

(2x) I want to paint a picture for you,
but I'm better behind the pen than the easel so I'll speak and you can draw conclusions and we will call this an audience participation piece

and hey...If you draw a blank that's participation enough

So I think we've all heard the story...

The wise man built his house upon the stone
and the foolish man upon the sand,
and God, well God built his in the clouds which leaves me reminding him-
More isn't always better
as The Beatles were one "s" short of Beatless
but larger than his son,
and it was from his house that the winds blew and the rain fell and destroyed his beloved creation
so
I'll bend these fingers over backwards
pushing forwards
screaming four words
muted to the silence of the violence that never becomes past tense

"Eloi Eloi Lama Sabacthtani"

I live in a country where the greatest powers lay at ports powdered with sand and arts are harder than the stone we placed there when Jesus said let him without sin cast the first one.
(the day rocks were replaced with bullets)
Yet isn't it ironic we're fighting heathens heaving stones
Crucifying them in cross hairs
...because...
it's more civilized?

And we still have the gawl to call them terrorists when war is the greatest terror and we wage more war than any first world country
Unable to pay wages to our own
Inflation deflating face value of our forefathers
There will be no saved face at the end of our massacres
and when we stand in sand stuck between a rock and Ramses' Heart
wondering how it all start
because surely this could not have been what was meant.

But
talk is cheap
and silence is golden
and everyone is buying high and selling low
making a stock of thought only two cents

and you paid to listen.






Bad Blood
Now I know I don't have no junkie bug but this

Bad blood, bad blood's got me itching
each thought itching
I know that wasn't me this blood's going bad
bad blood, this bad blood's got me itching
I know that wasn't me...
this blood's got me itching

I'm suprised I got this far following veins bursting from skin that wasn't meant to hold it
You can't put old wine in new wine skins and expect things to hold together
Now I don't know who started it but I have my assumptions
so I'll just sit here and see where your forked tongues aim and do my
process of elimination
but it might be hard to decide between a bunch of
Narks, liars, cheats, cheaters, thieves, who tie off or turn up
so they don't burn up
Some of them cleaned up and let god in their heart but Satan's in their veins
It's like a more realistic version of those shoulder perching emotional angels and demons

-Now I tend to believe our hearts start out beautiful and our minds logical
Intentions pure and actions honorable
Love strong and smiles large

But this-
Bad blood, bad blood gets us itching
each thought itching
I know it isn't us this blood starts going bad
bad blood, this bad blood gets us itching
I know this isn't us
this blood's got me itching

Now I can still say I'd never let a needle pierce my skin
or even pop a morphine based pill
But I have my scar tissue and I get my itches
and,
I know where I was and I recollect most of where I've been
I know where I'm going and I know no one's close enough to know what I mean
I know if they asked I'd give them a Samson Delilah type lie
so I'd feel like I got something off my chest and they'd feel that much closer to me
but in the end, though we both had the best of intentions, who'd we be kidding

My veins running with

Bad blood, bad blood that's got me itching
each thought itching
I know that wasn't me this blood's going bad
bad blood, this bad blood's got me itching
I know that wasn't me...
this blood's got me itching

I counted the pages so I know I've read enough books to understand foreshadowing well enough to know which ways to not even look at
but I've seen too much in a different light and want nothing more than to retreat to the darkness
Sepperate dissapate dissapear and make my self less seen 'round here
Recalculate and evaluate consider losses and gains
Get myself off other brains and just on my own
Grow out my hair like Bob Dylan said other wise I'll get tangles in my circuits
And I know I just couldn't deal with that right now
But in the mean time someone get a god damned paramedic this blood's going fucking bad

Awww, no responses?


Just wrote this one today...




I thought I'd pay me a visit
Unsure if I'd run into you
Only hoping I could figure what I hoped for
then finally
Fire shot from fringed fingers
Electric interrogation of intention
as white smoke made it's way past resin-ated yelling yellow glass
Diving belly first into the dark till it pried my eyes open
and in that instant I was made certain
Made certain I'd no interest in running
into the arms of wisdom white engulfing slave skin
squeezing purple within the gaps of flip book maps
I saw myself seeing myself
almost shunned myself
the quickly picked myself before I blew away
scared of losing a page unwritten
and even more so a page written
so I sat
knees up to my chest
face heading west
being torn
by pulls of dimensions born
between what's real and what's more real
I can't bear to have your dead leaf smile here
I can't be bent back into place with
shuttering pages pinching your face to another place
telling me in silence with curled lips I can't come
as you turn
turn and walk from wence you once came
to a place I'm still attempting to attain
come back to me
I don't love you, I think I might hate you
It's just coincidence I'm tripping every time I see you
I'm not falling
but my mouth waters when I want you and I'm withering in spite of it
Swollowing spit to sustain sanity
I said I want you
You squeeze the bravery from my veins
and drain the life source from my beat
I'd say I tremble but I can't recall
all I know is I've never stood in your prescence
You treat me as if I'm sickly
and if that's not it
then you treat me as if you wish me sickly
I'm not your patient
and i don't have enough patience to be made well
and I have less trust than you have time
unable to know how much of either, either of us have
I'm begining to think things might be perfect this way
Perfectly imperfect to anyone that shares the eyes of me
Perfect in the present piecing the past to possibility
maybe we could discuss it over ciggarettes and coffee
maybe you'll give me more than kayak curls
and plato particled predictions
to paint myself into boxes I never intended to enter
just please pull me outta this one.



Salvia hallucination inspired

They are structured like songs, although who says poetry has to have any particular structure?

Good work

Glad you enjoyed, thankyou

That first one was baller. It's so easy to relate to. I don't want to sound like a grammar nazi, but you say "gawl" in there, and I think you are thinking of "gall" as in impudence, or the like.

Good luck in Minnesota!

I love your play on words. good job

Very cool man. I love your style. It reminds me of fragments of thought that end up entwined in print. There's a very natural feel to it all.

Thank you all very kindly