Into the Lake(True Story)
Pots filled with raindrops, the roof
leaked a lot, things really started to
pour in, but regardless to what was
we didn't have the means to leave
Asthma showed its face, invading
my lungs, holding up my air space,
yet my good grace did what she
could to save me
She held me close, but the pain just
wouldn't let go, every time a breath
got shorter I faded farther away, like
I was off to my comportment in space
Voice flat as a tear on a line completing
its last free fall, I'd lay in her motherly
carriage almost down to my last
consummate
Wheezing, chest heaving and all,
I didn't die th... |
Inkings of Me(III)
Who am I without a voice?
Never will I be him, him who seems
hoarse arguing back and forth of his
words being nonsense cause they can’t
march to his step.
For I like to lead by example and if
no one can keep up then I’m fine
with just being the lone man left.
There will be no one to cloud my
forward vision, or Trump my mission
to becoming a true greater good.
I am a man that sleeps awake,
flirting with insomnia because she
likes me to, but to no concern, I am
good.
She will let me know when I can rest,
assured that I’ve been heard even
if they don’t seem to listen.
She isn’t hard of hearing my spirit's
retention, my immense he... |
Inkings of Me(II)
Hmm, I was once told that I wouldn’t
be able to prevail because I think
too slow, but guess what; they were so
short of my soul.
See, they didn’t know I belonged to
the stars and that to my disposal
there was my universe in its whole.
Instilled with the truth of, ‘I can do all
things through him’, I pitied them as
they didn’t know the joy that I knew.
They didn’t know the flight I ensued,
often leaving my gravitational footing
to travel days past the moon so that I,
myself, and me were always in tune.
I don’t keep mind to the chaotic cues,
as I am an art that doesn’t need to
be beautified through outside love.
But, to be clear it is taken when given,
and then in return you’d get the same
respects with plenty hugs.
For my ambition is like a dru... |
A Son of Jupiter (Higher Mind)
As a man, I’d rather use my own
dime to scratch my tickets,
better yet I’d rather just scratch the
itch of making it the harder way
I’m digging the nails from each
picket counting my progress in inches,
feeling the sweat course down the
lines on my hard chested domain
For there is no rhyme, but fairly all
reason Ioving me beyond my means,
seeking to reach the outer limits of my
inspiring mind if it follows me to rest
And may I be born again with the same
mindset of achieving it with esteem,
as there are no limits to a wise King
prompt to stay pinnacle on his quest
—JG |
Neptune
Most nights I couldn’t find peace,
I wondered if it was the PTSD, or if
this Neptune had just lost his dream.
Was it stuck in the cosmos unable
to reach the confines of a mind
too crowded of dismay and grief?
I almost believed, but my soul
only deepened to keep me whole
just as the shadow beside me.
Just as my soldiers in arm’s reach,
camouflaged, but never hiding
from chaos, or presumed defeat.
Like Jupiter once told me, “Keep your
head from your feet, and your head
above your heart, just be.”
Today it is received, not to mention
poetry increasing my spirituality
— a reverie to my muse.
How pleasant is she for keeping me
so heavenly attuned, my celestial
ooh, I can’t see you but I do feel... |
Mí Ethereal Ubiety
I am a holder of your mystery
like Olokun,
a diver into your emotional
conglomerates like a Pisces.
Do tell me your Zodiac ID.
For I am respectful, and gentle,
a deep connection to your
mental and physical utters,
bold like my ancestral mother,
gold that won’t always luster.
I am a hard lover, like sacrificing
my sights for the stars to still
remain vital where ever you are.
And no I’m not perfect, as I may be as
maimed as the moon, forever scared.
You are close but come closer;
my skin needs to feel your
celestial breath fall on me,
while I speak on in hopes that you
... |
Tattered Fruit (Free Style)
Tattered fruit,
black and blue,
abused,
rediculed
Tatter the fruit;
shame on you
for the same monsoon,
you’ve been a fool
You’ve been a bull,
un-beneficial,
pitiful,
and unequivocal,
to what she needs,
what she dreams,
you’re just a failure to see,
and an absence to lead.
Let her find her King
—JG |
Weather or Not
My mind is flacking,
thoughts heavy on my shoulder.
The weight is bearing,
and my posture is leaning over.
I'm bent on the meaning of this,
teetering trying to stay straight.
I haven't been right since you left,
and you weren't wrong not to stay.
You deserved better, not my cloud
hanging over your pleasant weather.
Not my angst that came with it,
taking the flight from your feather.
—JG
|
Menace to Society
Meet the eyes of a monster,
chained,
sponsored by the state
meant to be painted pretty.
Sitting colored like the sun,
days soon to be numbered
like his new ensemble,
guilty before proven innocent.
Meet the eyes of a monster,
unashamed, who pays homage
to being dishonest
because the devil is his truth.
Sitting colored like embers,
a blazing fire beneath the cold stare
with malice against the cleared air,
guilty of demeaning you too.
—JG
|
Faded Bouquet
Screams with no voice,
mousey,
hiding out inside of a dark space.
Skittish with no comfort,
kittenish, pupils wide
pulling her necklace.
Meanwhile he’s still reckless,
a bandit, coon eyed,
not welcomed in their place.
Flourishing with no grace,
withering, a faded bouquet
without a vow to replicate.
—JG
|
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