For the love of the rhyme.
It started in November 2016. I had been writing ever since I could remember but the poems started flooding my pages, after moving to New York in early 2013. I suppose it’s true what they say, suffering and pain makes for great material for poetry. I have been working on some new material recently, some of it very raw some of it more groomed and precise, and all of it deeply personal. I’m inspired by poetry that comes from a troubled mind and heart. I’m enthralled by poetry that dives into the deeply profound, erotic and painful of life. I love irony. I’ts the perfect glue to the mundane and the banal. So here are some of my recent explorations in verse:
#2 Pencil on a train to Queens:
Hustlers and peddlers of goods.
Bull shit artists with a flair for the delicately.
Masters of the insane.
But you got nothing to show.
I know I’m a good girl
But this is systemic fraudulence and in poor taste.
Life is not waiting around for you to decide what’s right.
You have to ride the train like the rest of us fools.
we have the tools to do greater than scoff at injustice
just because it makes a funny meme.
we’ve lost touch with reality it seems.
How real does the pain get?
Let’s take a bet.
Your life and your pain remain
an awful memory
an broken legacy
People screaming, oh you’re too PC.
What does it take for me to care?
Calling basic humanity a certain insanity
is what’s plagued us all our lives.
And yet Basic humanity is a rarity in these troubled times.
The tides come and go
our mere existence is erased by the distance of time.
No wonder your love is anemic.
Your abuse systemic
Your lies complete.
I drink my whiskey neat.
There is no time for diluted flavors.
Do me a favor and pass the lime.
It’s almost time.
The End Game
Sometimes I lay down and wonder
what it would be like to be your wife...
I’m thinking thank the universal beings and celestial forces
you are as far away from me
You did me a favor
With your razor sharp wit.
I must admit, I thought you were hot shit.
But then the reality hit SMACK DAB in the center of your fantasy
God is in the details they say and you’re just murky
I gave you consent over my body,
not my mind.
You played that one of a kind
The lie folded into half truths and lead me to assume
that you loved me.
It was all above me like a noose.
I get goosebumps.
I think of the shit I would have done to lower myself to your level
It’s undeniable how unreliable
The pussy is compared to the gut.
And in you strut,
like a homing device for my weakness my vice.
You slice with precision like a surgeon
my heart is a cavernous hole.
But then you underestimate my soul.
And here I am Whole.
Compete without distinction or defeat.
I spit at your feet.
Don’t deplete my space
I have erased you from my memory.
click — delete
complete without distinction or defeat.