Listening To The Right Music

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Listening to the right music
Will transform your soul to proper dimensions
Learning from those who have gone before you
Charging forth long into the fray against discretion
The latitude of the beat filtered through your mind
Exposing truth from down deep within your perception

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I Cannot Help But Stare

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I cannot help but stare
Pure hatred in those eyes
A lifetime of judgement
Whispering a torrent of lies
I don’t want to believe them
I’m tired of this rejection
I’ve been beaten & battered
I no longer need my reflection

Drinking Rum On A Dead Woman’s Chest

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Drinking rum on a dead woman’s chest

Callin’ me a bloody castaway

Pinkerton’s got me pinned down

Her love will never last past today

Flirting with the cigarette girl

Danced on my heart, now I’m pierced

I aim to stand tall, down to the last drop

Her beauty was deliberate & fierce

Always looking for something between

Usually a billfold, other times the sheets

She wanted the last of the big time spenders

Not often won, though seldom beat

College Magnetic Poetry Vol. 1

I eat her peach, like it was a screaming bed
Rob lathered her pink butt, like I said
She urges me to lick the bare breasts, or no head
They want the mist under the dress, and she is red
I cry, but think those rose petals are like a knife
My woman moans as we fall with spring through life
Smell sweet honey like a purple forest o’ eggs
He sees my finger smear next to the smooth hot leg
Watching two girls waxin’ & milkin’ without you
The gorgeous goddess needs his languid tongue to be true
Deliriously drunk & a repulsive moment recalls an ugly day
I felt the beauty whispering lust, wanting to play
Sweat leaves my apparatus juicy and shiny, always beating it away
Frantic spray floods the luscious garden from behind
Trying to swim beneath a language o’ an elaborate mind
Winter crushes drool over lovely eyes
On top, producing no sleep as we lie
Together, eternity is an essential chain
Manipulating me through bitter rain
Mothers can ask to stop, but still get to blow
I pound your fluff and then must go
Getting shot in some hair is easy when you are not above
Shadows o’ their enormous size is what you vision and love

Circa 1998

*Author’s Note: I feel I should explain this mess. It was written in college on a buddy’s fridge with the non-x-rated magnetic poetry. It is horribly juvenile and I love it all the more for that reason.

Walking Behind Parochial School Brats

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Walking behind parochial school brats
Outward appearances nice & neat
Discarded to their own system
Twisted hearts with a distorted beat
You can’t abandon a soul
& expect righteousness to supervise
You hope for marching citizens
But you end up with the Lord of the Flies

It’s Sheer Physics, Really

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It’s sheer physics, really
The fact that I would love you
The aesthetics & poetics
My heart could only beat this true
It’s not a surprise, really
I’m fascinated with your quintessence
Devotion & adoration
You’ve caused this tumescence

I’m Working On A Deliberate Sound

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I’m working on a deliberate sound

Tracking a feeling I’ve never found

Filtering & distilling a final abstract

Like passion was some sort of artifact

They’re still searching for their good luck

Let us dance holes in our old school Chucks

No need to worry about their errant thoughts

Let me strip naked – for I’m kinda hot

The beat down to your toes

Secrets of my soul, I’ll cautiously expose

Patron Saint Of Drunks & Losers 


Patron saint of drunks & losers

Patrick forever look over me

Protect me from any harm

Whether I walk the land or sail the sea

Falling through each day a shell of a man

Visions of a woman out on a distant shore

My lifeless body contains a broken heart

Where love & blood beat no more

Questioning all those past decisions

I stand challenging the fair winds to blow

Somehow my soul needs to make it back

To discover that woman I used to know

Word By Structured Word

  

Word by structured word
Searching for concrete textuality
She dropped her handkerchief coyly
Never again to forget her sexuality
Her head thrown back in a laugh
What makes her heart quicken its beat
I’m pacing – racking my distracted brain
Inspired to write, I hasten to take a seat