Tag: blogging

The First Time

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The first time we made love was when you walked into my classroom
your eyes danced and moved graciously inside mine like
dancers carefully twirling to the sound of their own heart beats
and
we were young-er
got lost in your mind and day dreamed about your beauty
could not wait to get to class the next day so that I may immerse myself in your intelligence
and like books I was open
(No wonder I like to read)
If loving you meant I couldn’t go beyond the pupils of your eyelids
I didn’t mind
cause
your lips spoke confidently and proud
so that I hung onto every word
swinging back and forth I was a kid at a playground
your beauty was biblical
from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet this was prophecy
thought the teacher was a waitress asked her if I could have another round of you
let’s be realistic
this thing was futuristic like foresight
every time you opened your mouth I took road trips into your memories
and for my blood racing I could not hide the joy
trying to catch my breath after falling into your smile
we were connected
too young to understand this love at first sight sensation I could have been dreaming
or maybe it was “Just my Imagination”
cause I was dancing
moon walking into complete relaxation
your last name should have been Jackson
cause you was a hit
and I could not lie
cause I ran home just to go to bed and wake up to the sun rise
cause it reminded me of you
you didn’t know it but my nose was so open I took notes
I was singing,
a sucka to every sound of the harmonious humility that escaped like convicts from your lips
I was convicted
cause I loved you too early…

Live Words

Anoint my imagination with the personification of sound
let it walk its way through my memories so we may build dreams as infinite as the sky
bless my brain with a physical manifestation of text
do not speak to me
or translate my feelings into emoticons
but metamorph into the vibration you wish to kiss upon the air
my brain knows nothing of the perception your voice wishes to thrust upon it
knows nothing of the influence illuminating from your lips like pulsing heartbeats
but can I feel you?
can I taste the odor of sadness or touch the lines of focus creeping upon your face
can I decipher the laughter sliding down the back of your throat
will your actions cover me in its hands and bring me into its bosom
or will I risk the sloppily handled trust you left laying next to the distorted frequencies coming out of your mouth
can I take this moment and bond with the authenticity of your words
do you live them
or will they melt away on the palates of your tongue
will they be sweet to the bones, bursting forth like conception but without birth
will we ever get to see the ripened ovaries of flowers with seeds
will we taste the pressure of fruit when it collides with living words
dance with the displacement of mechanical waves
and love
will we love?
or will your words fall barren against the crackling darkness of a cloudy heart
when I read your words can I hear them?
will you speak words

or will you live them?

What Inspires You?

Sunlight spilling over the edge of clouds

flowers clothed in fine silk

an assembly of family and friends

a kind word playing joy against the backdrop of your heart strings

or maybe just the way that words are sculpted by other writers, ever so elegantly contextualized

what in particular insists that you MUST write?

Genuine

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Loving you is not a game

It will not play psychology

With language

Will not toss rhetoric from walls

Or hang deception on emotional hooks

That dangle temptation like foolish tongues

Will touch neither your body

Or your mind

Without permission

instead

Sincerity is the loudest whisper you’ve ever heard

Laughter fills your belly to the brim

With boldness

And devotion lays its head

In your bosom

Deed will play on the strings of vulnerability

Because when it comes to true love

Defenseless is the only way to be

Open

Honest

Real

Genuine

The Blessings of Solitude

Yes, this….

Sometimes you definitely need to get to that quite place to get to that workflow. As Franz Kafka put it, “Writing is utter solitude, the descent of the cold abyss of oneself”, had to share:

“I can only wish that you trustingly and patiently allow that grand solitude to work in you….It will act as an anonymous influence, akin to how ancestral blood constantly moves and merges with our own and links with that of the individual, never to be unlinked.” – Rainer Maria Rilke