Nocturnal affairs

As the sun goes down and the light of day fades

Is when I hit the town for the night’s escepades

First thing’s first, I lay a fake bed

With blankets for my body and a pillow for my head

Then so slyly I get dressed

My heart pounding at the thought of my impending quest

The real question is how to leave the nest

It must be perfect, I can’t afford second best

Should I creep down the hall of the creaking floor

And slither outside past the squeaking door?

No, no, that path is too so-so

I will glide into night out my window

And pull it closed oh so slow

Then slide past the holly bush that every summer overgrows

You may say I’m quite something, sort of an expert

But I do this every night after im tucked in, like a dress shirt

And as soon as I’m out onto the street

I run, feeling the heartbeat of the concrete beneath my feet

Having problems in my head I try to delete

Because ignorance is bliss, oh so sweet

I aim to erase my troubles, struggles and stress

With a burn in my throat and a cough in my chest

And at last I am able to breathe

I can breathe the fresh air

Can’t you see? I can breathe

I inhale the feeling of sweet relief

Because at last, at last I can breathe

And with my lounges full of air

We paint the town red

Because now I don’t care

About dark thoughts in my head

And with caution to avoid criminal indictment

We scour the town for a bit of excitement

Because tonight I want to get crazy and funky

Like a supercharged, sugar-rushed, adrenaline junky

Because life is so full of boring-

Oh wow. Its already morning.

Back to our homes we all go

Slide past the holly bush that overgrows

And slip out of night through my window

And get undressed oh so slow

And then lay on my bed with a clear head

And enjoy my last breaths filled with relief

Because a whole day is a long time not to breathe

Poetry In Motion

Why do they say poetry in motion?

I think it’s quite the redundant notion

Because what could be more animated

Than the magical words you’ve created

Poetry can be real fast

Words I say already past

Poetry can be real slow

Like watching a stream as it flows

Poetry can be quite deep

These acid raindrops, into my heart the seep

Poetry can be quite light

A soaring balloon reaching great heights

Poetry can touch your soul

It reaches to grab you and as it takes hold

It moves you in ways you’ve never been shown

My words start to encode, your mind will explode

Into chunks everywhere like grass freshly mowed.

Poetry can be a symphony

Causing an inner-self apiphany

It can be the twinkle in your eye

The sparkle in the tears from which you cry

The changing of moral on which you rely

Poetry can give you wings. Let you fly

Up above the clouds- oh so high

But unlike Iccarus you will not fry

See, in poetry you cannot die…

Unless of course you wish to die

In which case poetry can happily oblige

So you can breathe your last breath, sigh your last sigh

Poetry reminds you that you’re not just ‘some guy’

You are you and you lead your own life

Through and through the pain and strife

Because your not just ‘some man’, you’re a poet

And god dang the world better know it

You may not be loved you may not be prized

But you will sure as heck be recognized

And let haters hate, ‘cause that’s what they’ll do

They’re just jealous of me and you

Because poetry is like a ball of clay

It changes shape with every word that I say

Poetry is all of these and more

It shivers your bones and rattles you core

Poetry can do lots, but most of all

It helps me break through the cell wall

To a great place of inspiration

Solid thought, unhindered contemplation

And all you need is a drop of pure imagination.

Style of Rhyme

I’ve been spittin’ rhymes since the Jurassic times

Life gave me lemons but I prefer limes

I’ve been spittin’ rhymes and fantastic lines

Am I the only one with a voice? Y’all are acting like mimes

I’ve been spittin’ rhymes since the time of dawn

Since the dawn of time, I’ve been spittin’ rhymes

So now I hear other poets writing without rhyming

And I think to myself, oh no! Oh blimey!

Such a catastrophe couldn’t have worse timing

Because I realize I can’t write without rhyming…

Ok let’s see if I can quit

But I don’t like this very much, it seems like every single word just doesn’t quite… fit

NOOOOOO!

It seems I just cannot do it

It seems there should be nothing to it!

Am I right or not, back me up on this one

It seems not rhyming should be more easily done

But I believe that words should have homophonic endings

If not it leaves the though hanging and pending

Words will dilapidate past such tense

Because not finishing thoughts doesn’t make that much               .

See what I mean?

Free verse is obscene!

In a fight, free-verse is lanky and lean

Rhyme is a mean, keen, fighting machine

Using rhyme you feel strong and stern

Your mind will churn with total lack of concern

Through the list of rhymes you will turn and turn

Until in your mind each rhyme will burn

And once you discern all but one will be sent to the urn

At last your brain can temporarily adjourn

So I urge you to try it just once, one time

And you will forever be hooked on the style of rhyme