poetic dissonance

a platform to edit my riddled streams of consciousness

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rubbish experimenting with sound

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i always kak up when i go to use the mic, i’ll always sound better in my head and that’s kinda ok

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House fire

warning signs posted at every peak,

were not enough to be discreet.

tip toes down; balletic as her.

ten toes down; his poetic blur.

his pent up thoughts

from attic’s floor

burns through the door

with no remorse.

he sent and sought,

an addict saw,

burns from before

to reap rewards.

His mind was in delicate balance with the wind; fueling the midnight oil. Foundations of gold were the seed to his mounted home, yet, all was not well. Against the ages, growth fluctuated with emotional decay. Feelings receded as did his pride. A true test of time was his roots embedded in golden soil, alas his green growth was unbridled by the weather.

He sent his soul into a meditative state to seek meaning from turmoil, and this is what became of ‘it’.

The past laid waste upon his footing. He trekked through open doors with moon-lit eyes, piercing like the apple to his eye. Like a drunk to a dame, a moth to a flame, he shot in the dark. At the back of his mind, his soul felt ablaze as his heart was akin with wildfire. He made haste through the burning house as soot tinged his nostrils. The walls were baron and aflame. Lost love echoed amidst the smog, beckoning retreat. He pushed through, for the reward was rich. Maybe a last glimpse at his treasured past would cease his suffering. Chasing a feeling was all he knew. He petaled up the stairs with grace as his feet charred black. His ego was addicted to the high, yet his body was foiling under the heat.

…

rebirth

…

The high was bright and divine under moon light.

The house collapsed as he soared down with the grace of a phoenix.

cliche

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bushido

hi i’m spencer here to dispense some sense in ya.

sensibly i’m paranoid of sensei’s expensiveness.

the price of nobility strikes an eye at the villainy,

with a slice of agility fighting nights to a tyranny.

the moon had me lit under star light’s suitability.

born in the dark, with an angel’s benchmark.

sworn to embark, how flint and steel sparks.

pushing all my limits until i hit the finish.

no winners only grinners until the bitter end.

i’m feeling frenzied again, shivin a pen to amend.

made amends with the dark, with the writing and a spark.

midnight oil for the snake’s aggressive coil,

said i’m royal to the rage and turmoil,

said i’m loyal for the age of tomorrow.

burn that bitch, in the ground, in the soil.

swear my heart froze over, when she bloomed like roses.

in the car got colder, pricked a chick on her shoulder.

in thorny times, i know that, mornings rise all over.

today i rise, for the morning never lies.

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sonic repercussion of hopeful heartache circa 2017. electric guitar was sounding fine.

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Blind Fist

scars: a blackout, broken story

they fade with age yet last an adage. the red is first to birth a thirst. glass doesn’t take assault lightly, ask my right hand. i saw through the glass, with a blind fist.

one lonesome night home i folded with knuckles of fury. it was late yet i grew restless into breathless intoxication.

glass stained my light as i broke into fight. no rush exceeded the bleeding, no rush to stop the.. peace and calmness.. was this what i had been searching for? an honest release? better yet, defeat?

the glass saw through me that night, truth be told.

the call from/to death was too close to heart.

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Wipers

her cheeks radiated with joy like flowers in bloom. her smile shone across the room with swift grace. she strode with the confidence of peaking sunflowers.

she’d bite her lip as if biding time. beneath her shine, her heart forebode soulful song. she’d smile to herself to know all’s fine because she loved herself: sunshine.

she loved her growing self and bettered health. her past wrung out was water on the windshield; wipe away the wet and leave to set. unforgettable and yet, clearer now.

her love was like a long drive til’ noon settles.

her voice echoed like reverberations on a train ride; keeping you just lively enough to make it home safe on time. the last time they spoke didn’t end on a high note. he’d be lucky to face the next day with a smile.

he was a traffic jam in torrential rain. he wished he could wipe it all away, but even the heater fogged up the glass, so he sat waiting for the sun to shine.