I speak in tutored rhyme schemes
of a world etched in wild dreams
deep red hue as ample phrase
from my voice that worldly maze
Lyric torrent’s golden twang
versed in magic tone I sang
pouring heaven on a page
laced with bright notes to assuage
This is the best description that I could give myself
I'm always that person who sticks my neck out to help
I would listen to the problems of someone that I love
I would try to solve the problem if talking wasn't enough
Im not anyone's friend I'm more of an outlet
I never seem to recognize this from the outset
I've never appeared like the person in need
They never take the time to ask and to see
There are times when I sit back and question my value
Wondering if I'm a friend or someone being used
I often wonder what causes a person to choose me
In comparison to others what would my value be
If they see me as they see everyone else
A dusty book alone on a cluttered shelf
Or do they value my friendship like its gold
Instead of someone they can come to drop their load
Being an electric outlet doesn't seem fair
I appear disposable because I'm always there
You think people think twice once they unplug from the socket
Not when they have a charged battery in their pocket
I’ve been sitting here so long,
My butts getting numb,
So I jump right up
And stick out my thumb.
He comes rolling down the street,
With the only smell of mention,
The noxious fumes; olfactory tension.
Now I’m not trying to make excuses.
But I Really needed to get to,
Lower Catoosas.
This dude with odiferous outlet
Was a goin’ my way.
If you think that was dumb,
Just listen to this:
It was a super-charged Edsel
With slicks on the rear,
It had the characteristic stench of,
Cheap, stinkin’ beer.
When I jumped in the car
He shot me the Bird,
And laid on me
These immortal words,
“Far in man…
Like what’s going off?”
I was stunned awhile
Had to catch my breath,
He looked at me with
A grin like death.
The smell was real,
The driver was not.
Like a bobble-head doll
On the dash installed.
I regained my feet,
Away from the freak,
“Thanks, but I’d rather walk”.
Pencil strokes and midnight tokes
My mind is in a daze and my heart is broke
Pages penned in the wee hours of the morning
Getting lost in art is a form of mourning
My brain shuts off and everything is quiet
Without an outlet these emotions riot
It may not look like much in the moment
But these memories are mine and I own it
Processing comes in many forms
And through the process a passion was born
The desire to create relatable pieces
To pave the way to peace and realization
Words wander onto paper
as the pen sits between my fingers
My mind creates when it feels destroyed
It soothes my senses when i feel annoyed
The art of creation manifests different vibrations
A way to relate to others and share my aspirations
Through pages of poetry and works of art
I’ve worked through some of the hardest emotions and mended my heart
Learn to sing a song is simple
To sing a good song is difficult
But it's for an outlet of emotions
Regardless to happiness or sadness
Difficult to speak to oneself
But easier to sing a song
If you're happy sing it
If you're sad shout it
It just flows out like a stream
Your heart should hear it
Your loved ones should feel it
Your Almighty God should know it
No professionalism though
No excellency though
No audience though
But you know
You're not totally alone
In this world
Bravely fought in experiment
curious pain brings forth a scent
it smells red like pain
it feels right as rain
so another and another flood the gates
is it that face that you hate?
sudden like a snap
resonates another smack
more force makes curiousity
an immovable object with such verocity
a little less is never enough
you cant even say you have it rough
so when it gets old and white is red
then dont worry your little head
no bruise will call
on your assistance against this wall
so will you reach for the slice
the scraping vice
that rends flesh like fish in sea
glittering and shimmering among your plea
oh may this end but no
you want it so
you do dont you though
this isnt sorrow
its pain that starts the wheels
no matter how your voice squeals
drowned out in the fog
of your mind
Seemingly nowhere to go
no outlet
dismissed from all sources
just there, as if no one care
out and about
just in a survival mode
doing what's best
making it each day
throughout the day and night
on bended knees, you pray
not a soul in sight
no outlet
finally, you are free
free to be the person that was called
back in the world of life
re-taken in the makings
a survival mode dismissed
living now, along with a wide list
of expectations and goals
owning businesses
life unfolds.
The two black and white mini-twins seemed surprised beyond surprised.
Their mouths were open like codfish in the middle of a yell.
These babies were stacked on top of each other when they caught my eye.
Black-eyed babies, with elongated mouths showing a startle that fell.
“Don’t touch that!” My mommy screamed at me, as I began to reach
Now I was startled, just trying to comfort them, to take away their blue.
“They are dangerous!” she and my grandmother in unison shrieked.
They are twin-minis, I thought, having no fear at all, being two.
I'm so excited,
A place to write
Be myself, dedicated
A life so bright
So much to say
so little time
Ill go threw out the day
Rhyming in the meantime
But as for now I'll end with that
The start of a new beginning
My heart will chat
My soul will be singing
long and winding road
without Him you go nowhere
dangerous, dark road
I have grown thus far in life knowing many forms of outlet for my depression
I have seen many outcomes arise and fall into what I refer to as "feeling regression"
Writing is the only outlet that truly allows feelings to leave your inner soul
You can write in a vast variety of forms yet one makes me feel whole
I write the inner most feelings of not only myself also including those around me
I have seen all walks of life first hand and found where I truly want to be
I have longed for inner peace inner acceptance of whom I truly have become
I am now a father, a stepfather a man and my Mothers son
And yet the only way I can share these feelings with no form of regret
Is in the form of unstructured poetry it is my only true outlet
boys come with bare feet
to the water just to wade
and take it all in....
why pretend
having fun no sin
you can bet
to make life set
YOU NEED A
OUTLET
we all need this
this you must git
get out nodoudt
stump dance and run
have some
OUTLET FUN
What way
Would I run
There is no way
There is no away
Is there a way
It is a far way
From where I am now
Faraway from where
Faraway from here
Faraway from her
Is where I would run
It would follow
Watch me fall low
Don’t act though
Don’t take action
Just take all I’ve got
I’ll just take the fall
I’ll just take the hit
Hit me hard and true
The truth is stone
Stone me broken blue
Leave me broke and blue
Just leave
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