Bread Ties

It would be infinitely better if we could twist the obvious together,
Keep the bread safe you know?

A little of your metal, a little of my plastic,
The security,  safety and nostalgic.
Dodge the mold,  stifle the tragic.
Everything secure: wheat, white, pita, Cuban, rolls, Multigrain, and kaiser.
That’s God, us, money, transportation, luxury, food, hope and appetizers.

I prefer the twist tie over the plastic clip.
Like you prefer sandwiches with the crusts clipped.
I love wheat because fiber supports recovery from slips,
Because falls are all white when the impact hits.

We first need to get all the excess air out so we don’t become inflated with the ideas of others.
Right?
Wrong.
Bakeries smell better than bread shops,
Cakes, tarts, donuts and bear claws… muffins, cupcakes and cake pops.

So similarly we should look around and observe, then on the contrary sit on the shelf with loaves of similar yeast, dough, grain and packaging.
After all sourdoughs hate to see us frenching, sweet on each other like donuts and circling our cream like bagels that gets them all flaky like croissants.

It would be infinitely better if we could twist the obvious together,
Keep the bread safe you know?
Like bread ties…

****unedited picture source: Bread Ties ***

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Black in White

OK so…
Picture a neck and it’s attached to a rope
All the strands and fibers are the opposite of hope.
The knot is compassion, no matter how it seems because I threw my whole life at it and I’ll pay double to breathe.
Beams of pressure, relative to the mass of my weight under the stature of my stress.
Never thought I’d be aloft on a rope with Depression bouncing on my shoulders like a crazy 3 yr-old, thighs locked around my throat.
He gloats and the smell of a** at the back of my neck is revolting.
Tears fall out the pockets of my soul onto my cheeks.
Fear waves anxiously at me from a neighboring tree.
I kick, I kick, I swim…
Trying to displace enough air to lift my future out of this noose.
My hands go stiff, pre embalmed no more blood to claw at the hemp strands. They sink into my respiratory… my pulmonary, my spirituality and stop.

My tears subside and the viewing smiles lose their place in convulsions.
Pale faces, same faces that made aged faces sing amazing graces because of disgraces and segregated races boy I bet you wouldn’t wanna trade places!
This tree, almost companion less now knows me best and all of my carbon traces.
My pupils black and filled with death, face drained of light, left in fright, world once greens and reds and beautiful blues of all vertical shades and horizontal hues is only; white…

But it was born black?

***This is a direct response to the countless lives altered by the perpetuated hate of race or religion. #coexist ***

Templates

The most insidious thing I’ve faced is living in the presence of the people I have hurt;  is that then death to the people who have been hurt?
Witness the templates I’ve presented to you’re viewing pleasure.

Stable, ambitious, legendary…
Great husband,  better father,  stellar man. Pleasantries.

When the refined sugar had dissolved the plain clothed resolves
The selfishness bubbles over,
The inconsiderate actions of a self-centered soldier.
Laying in trench, entrenched in the bodies I’ve bagged as baggage.
The doors all revolve around me like dollars do around whores.
Bitter as biting into big ass radishes.
Reality is exactly what the challenge is.

So I lay templates out like sanctified hands,
Wasted years and overly procrastinated plans,
Every year is an unfortunate toast, a reminder that the last year was abandoned, never mind the ambition,  never mind my intent or my Perception’s position.
The truth is even a failure,  a war inside to face the facts like lack of devotion to one’s own pledged religion. 

I have officially ran out of templates

Wire taps

If there was a thing I could have, especially for a Christmas list… it’d be a wire tap on you.
I’d plant the microphone on your mind so I can hear what your thinking all the time and as elementary or infantile as it sounds, I’d need only blow wind across your head and be effortlessly blowing your mind. 

If there was a thing I could ask for on father’s day and you said “baby no price limit it’s yours”
I’d buy my ass a wire tap for your mind and eat your thought process H’orderves.
I’d be up on your fashion craves, the in style foundations,  shadows, nail polishes and lipstick shades.
Savory your weight loss plans and remedies, sampling your pedicures and favoring your pedigree.

If there was a thing that I could get with that veteran’s day special at Best Buy,  I’d wire tap your spinal tap so I could feel your worries and pop your snaps.
Know when my words are laced in sarcasm,  take em back and cut them up play them back in 4k for you dressed and etched in Fantasia the Phantasm.
Wipe your tears before they mount, kiss every inch of those magnificent lips before they pucker… before they pout, before they frown,  in between our shouts, the in between inaudible is our mouths.

If I could exchange Thanksgiving feast for a selfish desire,  I’d trade up my PS4 for a tap and eBay the wire. I’d get into your Note 3 and text you kissy emojis when you need them most,  call your phone to say absolutely nothing, you know like to hear you breathe because that’s what counts the most.
I’d flip mines off when your thinking I wish he was noticing me.  The novice in me is missing all the things my wire tap would see.

And simply… whether, stretch, or plains or farms, or vast valleys and wide seas; I’d always have a piece of you right here with me.

Bad for you

The whole world with some kids in it and the double deck home, picket fence with the clothing line with sheets pinned to it, doctorate in something financially secure just to secure your sense of security… that’s just the superficial!
Officially she only wanted me but I came complete with baggage and frequent flyer weeks, selfish in the flesh and lacking the complete comprehension of loyal-T.

I’ve got tea bags and brains and she just deserves royal-T.
This is the part that writers call “soliloquy.”
It’s important to understand that it’s not impossible to wed, impregnate and confide in someone but still give so little… me.
Trying to find my God shovel to plant this seed worthy of being rooted in… HE.
Because without divine intervention like Jesus hands on the wheel this love is more like obituar-y!

I’m so bad for you like ruined your life and stressed the rags on you.
You just wanna smile,  I just wanna give time and possibly bless the tags on you.
Treat you with more respect than meat,  do more than grab on you.
Go gambit with our daughter,  gambling over who should have the bigger half of you!
Deliver speeches at the symposiums, key notes,  I can brag on you.

All about:
How the Lord made me from HIM and you from me then put you in front of my reach,
I got proverbs that grow something strong like you, preach!
Hope the natural flavors of love don’t fade with juice, peach.
Impeached the constant variable in attempt to make romance the constant constable.

But with all my good, great, greater than wishful intentions I seem to only bring bad for you.

#freedom

How long have I loathed to pen things that pop off pamphlets, notepads, Facebook walls and twitter feeds like stallion erections… [pause]
He used to be poet, he used to craft bars out of Dos Equis because he is anything but the ordinary selection.
He is confident in his skill, not so sure about freewill,  very mistaken about refills and highly susceptible to expression.
#freedom

Lean on It

If I ever needed something… shoulder to lean on it.
I been on it but life, it’s clever it’s demonic.
Rain just hits my window I’m crying I lean on it.
Lean until I fall through, like picture no screens on it.
Picture a man walking but there isn’t a scene on it.

No picture to rewind to, no dvr, tivo… no re-running.

Dreams might be deferred but I just can’t dream on it.
Not when my son’s mom blocks my shoulder so he can’t lean on it.
Young boy less than 10 like Similac with cream on it.
Promise the kid’s got the brains just needs the self esteem on it.
I had him less than 20 like a peach with fuzz for real on it.
Promise I lacked brains just needed the reality check with the “real” on it.
I used to have a vision but now I need high beams on it.
So used to a rocky road but never saw the fog and trees on it,
Forest fallen by the wayside and with the lumberjacks who leaned on it.

Now I am lost, fatigued and hopeless,
Lack of faith for fuel and driven with stress.
My game is off, my aim is a mess.
Too much pressure in responsibility, by similarity of “s”
Too selfish for Love when my words about her have been known to be blessed.
Confused and abused, in tune with failure; I know how to carve a new beginning and it involves detailers.
I can lean on this knife, while holding it over my gripes.
Lean until the blades cuts through the layers of life.
*exaggeration, deception, lies, hopes, embarrassment, insecurity and mediocrity.
I’ll lean now, all the way on it.
I did…

But the layers were too strong like couldn’t cut the seams on it.
Hidden seems like:
My wife and kids,  the ribs,  the hopes,  my Lord had too much steel on it.

My God has bigger shoulders than mines,  enough to lean on if…

I ever needed something

Gracing the Groom

I should thank the heavens for you!
So I have and so I will… continue.
I should bankroll the Reverend for you,
We deserve an excuse to abuse the power of matrimony until the sacrifices go over the balcony.
Throwbacks in these Sacony like jumping over the balcony.

Didn’t we use to have close combat conversations inside our comforter bunkers?
Can’t we do that again? Can’t we share chores to calypso and old skool reggae again?

I should thank the angels for you!
So I have and so I will… continue.
I should bribe the deacon and choir to sing love to us too.
Ask God for Moses’ rod to hold me upright, I’ll need every speck of strength laying these hands on you.

Didn’t we use to trade you picking my ingrown hairs for me giving you massages?
Can’t we do that again? Can’t we play UNO and Dominoes again?

I should thank Jesus for you!
So I have and so I will… continue.
It was written in Mark “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”
With ambush, or deceit, or lies, or with hate.
I never knew that “one” applied to us too.
It was also written in Ephesians to “Be completely humble and gentle; Be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace.”

Didn’t we use to hangout together?
Can’t we do that again? Can’t we drive to Corpus again?

I should thank you for being you!
So if I haven’t enough I will do it more… and continue.
My bride, you’ve graced the groom,
It’s nearing the time we deserve the traditional “jump the broom.”
Blonde highlight and orange dress to room,
Our evenings now pale in comparison to 2010-2011 like string beans to kale.
My aura on you has faded your glow from omnipresent, to a flickering fail.
If you could live me all over where would you want to score today on the zero to ten scale?
I’ve got some better days for you, we just need to pack, commute, board, and sail.
I’m grateful and thankful to have you.

Arm’s Length

We met out of reach, two people transiting the information highway.
Focused on each other in attempt of passing by.
Curiosity pleaded the “hi” and “hellos” after confirming with both your and my feminine fellow that you were and I was simply okay.
A ritual common for social networks.

Fast forward to the point at which love becomes a net worth and kisses makes the neck work,
I mean hugs and “I love yous” made the smile reflex hurt.
Cheeks shouldn’t be held to high for so long.
But then I covered reality with a blanket of chivalry, misguidance doesn’t know romance.
All along, I was playing strings for you to dance to the same annoying tunes I hated.
Goddess you are and I applied you to a situation degrading.
Delegated nothing but diluted love and meat shavings.
When you do deserve all of that carnivorous fantasy I write about, gloat about, words that pick you up and throw hope about.

You’re in need of a shoulder, a hug, a comforter dressed as an embrace, an ear with taste, a friend, a “so much more”…
I’ve been neither, but a provider;
Of space, waste displaced, contorted faces and bogus slates.
Flipped that foundation over and founded a new but it was too late for you.
You were already beyond arm’s length.

Tile High

Ever felt like you were standing on the proverbial “mountain top?”
I have…

Felt like I had it all or was on my way to getting it.
Bittersweet notes played in the wind, whenever I entered the room I felt the losing minds hate because all I did was win.
That was the motivational call and I was answering it.
Semi-deep people are less entertaining than shallow minds, grinning in the marsh pits talking shit, on borrowed time.
Bittersweet melodies play out the loudspeakers, whenever I grace the stage I felt people lose their minds because all I did was rim.

Aren’t you, overdue for some full fled… f…. intercourse off the course of these regular minds, mind track.
Adapt or dismount, life offers no trials just error and it is the be it all discount.
Attack opportunity with gracious tact.
All I ever wanted was to be cleverly mounted on that mother fu….. obscenity deleted, mountaintop.
Free of humanity and the presentation of humanity’s slop.
Cropping people out of my life and Photoshopping new ones into it, template locked.
I owed you nothing less than cops killing young boys and nothing more than racial dimensions.
Peak was never obtainable because after the journey up, I’ll journey back down, less I die up there with no change.
I’ve got no place where the oxygen thins and there are lifeless things… there is no change up there.