I woke up this morning and I stopped missing you..
It was like the years of friendship disolved into a large puddle of mess our relationship was,
And flushed itself straight down the toilet.
I guess it started months before I said I love you.
Years before I couldn't stand you...
I have been missing some part of you since our souls seperated in heaven.
Although...certainty is only assured by fact your smile haunts me like a memory lost within the ripples of time...
Wrapped tightly around us so that you can feel the meaning rather than hear words which have been empty before.
But strangely, today...that longing lost the luster.
The last link in this chain bonding my love to yours.
Broke into a thousand pieces like cheap shattered glass.
Crystal doesn't come with the same impervious guarantee.
But I'm sure this is what you get for love on stand by.
So idle hearts broken from lost love tried to reattach the jagged halves to make whole.
Though the tape and super glue generally hold fast for short periods,
The permanance of malmatched love is preordained to fail.
So blinded, vision distorted by anger, hurt, and dispare,
I climbed into my own self loathing and mourned a very special friendship destroyed by loneliness.
An empty feeling of unwant that lead me to believe every moment which I existed was for your happiness.
For that...I was wrong.
But...somehow...someway...
I woke up this morning and I stopped missing you.
So where is up,
Why is down,
When is left,
And most importantly...
Who is right...if anyone?
Sunday, August 31, 2008
On With The Show!!!
Welcome to FuckMeTV.
It must be cable cause the hate crimes
Committed in real time are too deep for network television.
As if my life was some fiction based reality sitcom drama.
Where the slightest hint of a melody throws me back to some point where I was given a last kiss good night, smacked in the face with some reality which could only exist as part of some elaborate story dreamt up by the most creative of minds.
Characters of all kinds making their entrances,
Feigning genuine feeling through real thoughts
Scribed to page, red lined, and drafted twice.
Dry read in plain clothes while eating bagels made from rye bread,
Dress rehearsed and finally debuted to the world.
Stood the test of 16 seasons of up and downs
Yet I felt like I was still only a pilot with delusions of longevity.
Soaring in ratings but the plug was pulled cause the happy ending is too cliché and fictitious to ever really happen.
So we settle for the lives we fall into...
My black and white movie has been left without sound.
Devoid of dialogue, so the audience can feel the inflated responsibility of building their own pespective of a life that doesn't belong to anyone.
As for the her, she remains a Terry McMillan, Tyler Perry, Zane, Omar Tyree, Eric Jerome Dickie carbon copy destined to spiral towards todays cynical view of happiness.
Though....they say...that's showbiz!
It must be cable cause the hate crimes
Committed in real time are too deep for network television.
As if my life was some fiction based reality sitcom drama.
Where the slightest hint of a melody throws me back to some point where I was given a last kiss good night, smacked in the face with some reality which could only exist as part of some elaborate story dreamt up by the most creative of minds.
Characters of all kinds making their entrances,
Feigning genuine feeling through real thoughts
Scribed to page, red lined, and drafted twice.
Dry read in plain clothes while eating bagels made from rye bread,
Dress rehearsed and finally debuted to the world.
Stood the test of 16 seasons of up and downs
Yet I felt like I was still only a pilot with delusions of longevity.
Soaring in ratings but the plug was pulled cause the happy ending is too cliché and fictitious to ever really happen.
So we settle for the lives we fall into...
My black and white movie has been left without sound.
Devoid of dialogue, so the audience can feel the inflated responsibility of building their own pespective of a life that doesn't belong to anyone.
As for the her, she remains a Terry McMillan, Tyler Perry, Zane, Omar Tyree, Eric Jerome Dickie carbon copy destined to spiral towards todays cynical view of happiness.
Though....they say...that's showbiz!
Monday, August 11, 2008
Jazznevashykrystal
If self loathing was an artform, you would be Michelangelo, and my soul the roof of the Sistine Chapel.
My heart Van Gogh's ear,
And my life the semblence of David.
Picasso had a blue period, but no hue close
To that of the one I felt with you.
Not even the style of music held the pain.
Yes your name rings moving horns,
Falling and crashing melodies thickened by quickly paced drums.
But...my honeysuckle rose never bloomed in autumn.
And New York was lack luster for Moody's mood.
Longing for one night under Tunisian skies without feeling melancholy.
Somberly dancing the solamente uno
When el concion was made bailar junto.
So...
We won't say it will neva happen.
Won't say I'll neva stop loving you.
Neva say goodbye
Neva say goodnight
Neva close that door
Neva poor every ounce trust I have in this situation into the gutter.
Neva tell a woman how much she means to me
And neva tell her I love her.
Cause if you are neva to say neva, I've already done it to the power of 8.
No escape...being your confidant and best friend
Cancels out my own love and leaves no room for grievance.
I bottle our strained existance and exit stage right.
Head held high...
Cause although you shine like silver pieces
The divinity of my own self worth cannot be purchased with minted metal.
I love that I loved you.
I learned that I wanted you.
And realized I never really needed you.
My heart Van Gogh's ear,
And my life the semblence of David.
Picasso had a blue period, but no hue close
To that of the one I felt with you.
Not even the style of music held the pain.
Yes your name rings moving horns,
Falling and crashing melodies thickened by quickly paced drums.
But...my honeysuckle rose never bloomed in autumn.
And New York was lack luster for Moody's mood.
Longing for one night under Tunisian skies without feeling melancholy.
Somberly dancing the solamente uno
When el concion was made bailar junto.
So...
We won't say it will neva happen.
Won't say I'll neva stop loving you.
Neva say goodbye
Neva say goodnight
Neva close that door
Neva poor every ounce trust I have in this situation into the gutter.
Neva tell a woman how much she means to me
And neva tell her I love her.
Cause if you are neva to say neva, I've already done it to the power of 8.
No escape...being your confidant and best friend
Cancels out my own love and leaves no room for grievance.
I bottle our strained existance and exit stage right.
Head held high...
Cause although you shine like silver pieces
The divinity of my own self worth cannot be purchased with minted metal.
I love that I loved you.
I learned that I wanted you.
And realized I never really needed you.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Ink Scarred Tissue
I told you I was a sucker for love,
Heart on sleeve,
Transposed to the sole of your shoe
Wrapped around my own clavical,
And buried with me.
Suicide by noose made from strained heart strings.
I'm just the yesterday of tomorrow,
The shadow of a withered distant future
Trying to understand why I'm scared of myself.
In the company of aparitions,
More apathetic and vivrant than th liveliest of those still walking.
Zombies robbing the world of the living of its perfection by fucking up their own temples.
Sacrilage with false idols of liquor and chemical stimulants.
Symbolism is symbiotic with sins.
I am Madusas eyes with cheap contacts
Trying to understand Gill Scotts depiction of the Wright Brothers plight.
Contact!
The life after life
Past the signs leading to Peter's gate
Or Satans plate.
Trapped at the fork
Trying to force out the stainless steel prongs
And climb higher through the food chain.
I'm left brain logic with insane third party intuition.
The mission statement from West African tribes to the Carribean from the slave ship.
Embedded from dirt road to pavement.
Adjacent to ghetto like my end result is a prerequisite.
Recognized by government as natural selection
Stuck at the intersection of faith and belief
Like an athiest who saw God surviving a fatal accident.
I stand at the threshold of forever not crossing cause i'm too scared of the seconds following
"I Love You"
To move forward past everything that follows.
Where nothing even matters but you,
Where I want you like Erykah wanted Dilla when she wrote telephone.
"Telephone...it's Myk Dya-. I'm spittin words to guide you home. Hope it won't be too long....No it won't be to long."
I told Peter you were coming, the spot on the guestlist is secure...
So I'll be waiting with Langston, Billie, Ralph, James, Etta, and Duke.
Thanking them for the blueprint
Apologizing for the smudges
And stenciling a new tatoo of love
Hoping this time they won't turn it into a T-shirt,
Where the brand name is embedded into the bottom of your footwear,
Or securely fastened around my throat.
Double jeapordy of the heart...
I won't serve time for this crime...
Criminal minded but mindful that criminals were once innocent.
So in a sense...my wrong akin to right like
Days akin to night might stop....
Cause I lack the common sense to go on.
Heart on sleeve,
Transposed to the sole of your shoe
Wrapped around my own clavical,
And buried with me.
Suicide by noose made from strained heart strings.
I'm just the yesterday of tomorrow,
The shadow of a withered distant future
Trying to understand why I'm scared of myself.
In the company of aparitions,
More apathetic and vivrant than th liveliest of those still walking.
Zombies robbing the world of the living of its perfection by fucking up their own temples.
Sacrilage with false idols of liquor and chemical stimulants.
Symbolism is symbiotic with sins.
I am Madusas eyes with cheap contacts
Trying to understand Gill Scotts depiction of the Wright Brothers plight.
Contact!
The life after life
Past the signs leading to Peter's gate
Or Satans plate.
Trapped at the fork
Trying to force out the stainless steel prongs
And climb higher through the food chain.
I'm left brain logic with insane third party intuition.
The mission statement from West African tribes to the Carribean from the slave ship.
Embedded from dirt road to pavement.
Adjacent to ghetto like my end result is a prerequisite.
Recognized by government as natural selection
Stuck at the intersection of faith and belief
Like an athiest who saw God surviving a fatal accident.
I stand at the threshold of forever not crossing cause i'm too scared of the seconds following
"I Love You"
To move forward past everything that follows.
Where nothing even matters but you,
Where I want you like Erykah wanted Dilla when she wrote telephone.
"Telephone...it's Myk Dya-. I'm spittin words to guide you home. Hope it won't be too long....No it won't be to long."
I told Peter you were coming, the spot on the guestlist is secure...
So I'll be waiting with Langston, Billie, Ralph, James, Etta, and Duke.
Thanking them for the blueprint
Apologizing for the smudges
And stenciling a new tatoo of love
Hoping this time they won't turn it into a T-shirt,
Where the brand name is embedded into the bottom of your footwear,
Or securely fastened around my throat.
Double jeapordy of the heart...
I won't serve time for this crime...
Criminal minded but mindful that criminals were once innocent.
So in a sense...my wrong akin to right like
Days akin to night might stop....
Cause I lack the common sense to go on.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
The Nightengale Sings
A nightengale perched atop the tallest and oldest tree in the Garden of Eden,
She then sang the most beautiful song her heart ever mustered and said,
"Fuck it! From now on I'ma cherp free verse
Till the earth spins reverse on axis.
And the people sing...
Nightengale...sing us a song,
Sing us your fears,
Sing us your tears,
Nightengale...sing us a love song!"
But there are no more love songs.
There is no love...
The nightengale watched love die when Adam bit into that fucking apple.
There has been no love since that day
Only cheap mascarade mask version we manifest
To appease our sense of longing for a feeling long deceased .
We charge the nightengale as a hieratic but praise Issaac Newton as a scholar?
They both charge us with the truth...it's your perspective which blinds you.
Blocks all of reality out so you only see what your astigmatic two eyes allow.
The nightengale chooses another path because we've left her no options..
Choosing an alternative path to express the her pain
Cause watching the most important feeling in the world wither away never to return
Has drove her mad!
How depressing it would be to see something foolishly satired and unwittingly depicted as love.
While you wine on like a scratched up Keith Sweat record...
"nightengale....sing us a song,
Sing us your fears,
Sing us your tears,
Nightengale....sing us a love song...
One last love song...
For our poor ears."
No nightengale!
No more love songs...the time for that has passed!
Keep spittin' this new found truth...
Keep living this lifestyle which maybe difficult for some to understand...
Your revolution will not be in vain!
Soon...they will forget the love song...
And maybe...just maybe once that happens,
Love can once again be reborn...
Be genuine....
Be pure...
And find you perched on the highest branch
In the tallest tree in the Garden of Eden,
Where you're smiling because you've changed the world...
And she finally understands and loves you the way you've loved her since time began.
She then sang the most beautiful song her heart ever mustered and said,
"Fuck it! From now on I'ma cherp free verse
Till the earth spins reverse on axis.
And the people sing...
Nightengale...sing us a song,
Sing us your fears,
Sing us your tears,
Nightengale...sing us a love song!"
But there are no more love songs.
There is no love...
The nightengale watched love die when Adam bit into that fucking apple.
There has been no love since that day
Only cheap mascarade mask version we manifest
To appease our sense of longing for a feeling long deceased .
We charge the nightengale as a hieratic but praise Issaac Newton as a scholar?
They both charge us with the truth...it's your perspective which blinds you.
Blocks all of reality out so you only see what your astigmatic two eyes allow.
The nightengale chooses another path because we've left her no options..
Choosing an alternative path to express the her pain
Cause watching the most important feeling in the world wither away never to return
Has drove her mad!
How depressing it would be to see something foolishly satired and unwittingly depicted as love.
While you wine on like a scratched up Keith Sweat record...
"nightengale....sing us a song,
Sing us your fears,
Sing us your tears,
Nightengale....sing us a love song...
One last love song...
For our poor ears."
No nightengale!
No more love songs...the time for that has passed!
Keep spittin' this new found truth...
Keep living this lifestyle which maybe difficult for some to understand...
Your revolution will not be in vain!
Soon...they will forget the love song...
And maybe...just maybe once that happens,
Love can once again be reborn...
Be genuine....
Be pure...
And find you perched on the highest branch
In the tallest tree in the Garden of Eden,
Where you're smiling because you've changed the world...
And she finally understands and loves you the way you've loved her since time began.
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