Long Five finger Poems

Everybody love to say they’re number one,
but it takes two
to make beautiful music, 
so we’re told
Pitch perfect
That one favorite song two lovers have,
it never gets old
After ninety nine repeats, 
it sounds one zero zero multiple...

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Hello again Conscious, my dear friend
hello again dear mirror, my wake up call
hello again myself, it's too early for this but it needs to be said
No one will understand my turmoil, decisions, incentives
my numbing drive...

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I’m sorry, not only for me,
But for putting people through stress in excess
I’m sorry, please set me free,
Lord, I need some progress and less distress
Buried alive, stuck in my space in time…
I’m sorry for everything...

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I never got why you always
Ate the red pink color out 
The Sherbet ice cream

It was like excavation
How you removed all the cherry
Without even affecting the other colors

Leaving the orange and the vanilla
Neatly for others
Who...

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Military boots grip the pavement,
hair in a Sarah Connor ponytail
Got her sunglasses on at midnight,
waiting patiently for the right ride
to stop
And swing open an invitation
to rest her road wary bones
From the bend of the elbow,
	to...

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Harvard, at night - You still sit on the lawn
with the weight of both structures alive in your arms
Rachmaninoff's tears turning black at your hips
The counting of friends on your five finger tips

Sawdust and poetry,...

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***Based off the song by Five Finger D**th Punch and dedicated to those boys/bullies at my 
school who think they can just beat me up because I have life problems and I am weak and...

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How can I poet slam them politrician liars,
let me count the ghetto ways
In the calendar of infinity,
there are how many days?
Forever and a clean smile,
I love doing this dirty job
Putting snake eyes down for the...

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I flop at truck stops
hid by other sleeping truckers.
I like the loneliness.
Amarillo, Detroit, Tacoma, Richmond,
places packed and stacked
with the bad and the good.
I scoot by paying no heed,
to features, just forms,
how bodies once glimpsed
sometimes return...

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Spin the bottle ...
give some unlucky lips a drunken kiss
Pin the tail on the donkey; 
though you didn’t miss 
on purpose you bosom grope insist,
when you stagger slipped
Tilt the bottle ...
pour liquid social stumbles into...

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Sharp as a whip, and not really drunk,
the drunken monk
has the sober monkey on his back.
A cylinder of mighty words
chained to a cylinder of craft and trickery,
behold the clever nunchucks,
I don’t follow the trickery, perhaps...

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(This is a fictional poem)

While we were shopping, you tried to steal a bracelet that was worth a lot.
But before you could get out of the store, you got caught.
They thought I was an accessory...

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