Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Too Much Sugah 'N Not Enuff Spice

I move too much
I flip flop
I fence
people done walked all over me in my own house and they don't pay rent
done happened one time too many and it ain't making any sense
the road less traveled by? How about the one that ends.

I flower
I sunshine

I am all together too nice
a little too much sugar
and not enough spice

a little too wrong when I wanna be right
a little too blind when I need to see the light
I'm too down to earth, and reserved when I need to take flight
a little too tame when I need a little fight

I'm a little less heroic but I wanna wear the cape
I'm tired of the heart I wanna be the spade
no more smiles of clovers and koolaid
I wanna rain on your parade
Category 17 Hurricane

I wanna be villain because the good guys never win
I wanna drop the piano off the cliff
hear the melodic crash
and then
listen to the keys breaking underneath the wind
I want to grin like the grinch and plot to do it all over again

I wanna shove my mind down your throat
and not just give you a piece of it
because i feel I've been  far too nice
I tell you too much brown sugar
and not enough spice

The Garden/Law of Notion

sit down and write a poem
if life and death depended on it I couldn't write a poem
not to save my life or the life of others
not to save my papa or mommykins
definitely not my brother

write a poem or die
write a poem or die
die if you don't write this poem

dwindling away i cannot force myself to write something
that does not adequately fit into this world yet

it needs time to breath and grow rib
it needs time to eve
it isn't times place to give
but rather the making of it
time that is

time is not an object but a measurement
writing isn't an object but a measurement
writing is a measurement
a measurement of how you analyze things places, and people around you

writing is a living breathing creature created out of the measurement of opportunity a tool used to measure time.

i should of paid more attention in math class because things make sense by what the laws say
but there not adding up
multiplied by my frustration
the situation divides me
i am writing but all the while i am still trying to figure out how.

i havent eved yet i'm still waiting on adam to wake up in my garden
and although its beautiful i too cannot see yet
so walking blindly it is the beginning
those first steps that truly shape an object
i am being formed
even if i am being still
something inside me as well as around me is still forming
and if you asked me today to save my life could I write you a poem
I would die today

putting words on paper does not make them great
but rather the construction of them
the manipulation
so that begs the question
are words inherently evil?