Humble Mouths

Raw Perspectives! Wordplay from active minds and humble mouths.

Archive for the category “Love”

Bread Ties

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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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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.

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.

The Miss

How do we miss each other so much?
I don’t mean like longing to see your significant other or a crush.
I mean, like passing our perspectives of each other right by, like a brush.
And close is never enough like enough can always use more.

I need more of you after you’re my wife and we’re already married type shit.
Heavy conversations like which God should we believe in after we’ve spent the beginning of this asking Jesus to forgive our sins type shit.
We grow, in the same household but sooooo differently type shit.
Like twins in segregation.
I miss your every move, your every mood misjudged, your steps over anticipated, your promises under anticipated, your kindness under appreciated, your embraces disassociated and this is all so lovely to the audience but to us it’s so damn complicated.

We the type that get the likes on Facebook but get the hate at home.
I’m the type to tell you all of this in a poem but can’t find the verbs to fuck nouns into making my mouth describe this accurately with adjectives.
That type of shit…

But how do wet become closer, magnets?
How do we kiss deeper, lips, tongues, baguettes?
How do we listen harder, death metal?
How do we hold hands longer, Timex?
How do we love more?

No examples is the true example, no one’s perfect is the grail to hail, relationship preamble, elderly couples are just a sample. 63 years in the mix and can’t remember if she prefers omelets over scrambled.

So the pieces we miss, we fill in like cavity fillings, it’s not a flush fit but at least hope gets to sit in.
Next to fluoride and missing you isn’t the same as it used to be… you expect me to hold you before you slip by and love you like you weren’t mines. Then remember things like are mines like you hate putting gas in the car.
I hate putting gas in this car too!
This one that drives hope, because I take us no where blaring the music like we’re going somewhere.

With the sincerest expectations we arrive at 334 Promise Street
Proclaiming that we’ll never bypass each other the way we used to as we weep.

Keep Me, Please…

Swooooshhhhhedddd me right off my feet,
Used to stand on my own now “Staircase to Heaven” is on repeat,
Guess I’m all into you like fillings for pastries,
Maybe we should go back to making…. bā-bies.
Baby I’ve only known you for like 6.
Enough years to add a ring, a home, a child, a proposal, some tears and smiles, joint accounts and new last names with the deserved prefix… Mrs.

You deserve FRS, Type S, S Class, SRT, GS; all acronyms for the best.
Best to do this right and do the whole ceremony with the dress.
Soon as we can afford it, get ready to snap it and refresh. Pin it on your desktop,
Plaster them on your walls,
“Memories don’t live like people do….” says Buju.
And I’m into working hard to make magic happen like voodoo.

2 strands of hair belonging to a rich man,
Pinch of fairy dust,
Legs of 6 money spiders…. etc.

So you or these kids never have to do,
Anything in life short of what you want to do.
The options have never been open so all I need is an option 2.
My life’s mission is taking a global position on being next to you.
Who knew, we’d see these days with the potential of taking this further?
I’ve admitted to being in love but I also am guilty of wanting to be in to you…. #hipthrustdeep
Everything I’ve thrown back couldn’t be for keeps, but I found you and everything I’ve become is only so you’ll keep; me.

So keep me please, begging was always cool if you listen to old school,
RnB, let’s redevelop romance like RND.
View it in super hi-def, Samsung; LG.
Wear it in sin like trading Tru Religion for LRG.
Add some wattage to our lifestyle, NRG.
Stand at the pinnacle of divorce plotting a coup, anarchy, hierarchy.
Anything in bloody murder for you to keep me, please…
I even wrote this on my knees, I’m lying but I thought about it and that’s at least worth points for me.
I love you.

Love IQ

What’s your romance SAT score?
Do you top the 5% of cuddlers, kissers, huggers; with chivalry unheard of before?
When you draft professional works of art from stray sheets of loose leaf does it reminisce Basqiat of love letters or the Chopin of oaths?
Do you boast after you’ve expanded you’re significant other’s coronary like bowls of overheated oats?

In the maths, is it imperative to square confusion with algorithms and does sex require obtuse angles to make the clitoris do like testicles and go firm and then dangle?
Right before orgasm does the vaginal walls go pi and then full circumference?
Is the radius of the penis as important as it’s momentum or mass?

I ask… then,
How much in tune are you with her tune? His favorite fragrance for your skin butters and perfumes?
Her sexiest undies, his most intimate words, her most profound secrets???

What’s the lat. and long. of big, huge, deep passion?

Contend to fixate my attention at your historical beginnings.
I want to divulge in your highs and winnings,
Capture your essence of there and fabricate them in your gutter lows and mediocre moment’s very trimmings.

All for the geography of you or even the history.
Mystery of love is still a mystery.
So soliloquys get in line for grammatical entrance.
The sentence slays communication and the obsession crafting timeless thoughts into the end dance.

You please my presence, so I present my intelligence acquiescence/ generations of feverish perversions pervert the mind/
Blind me with your caring persona and all its fluorescent; light.
My love IQ of you is border line failure and that’s not right.
Not because I’m uninterested but because your character is so vast.

Rewrite Love

image

You still want those letters I used to close with unparalleled love, the stuff 2Pac called “Unconditional.”
I don’t write you like I used to, the concept of romance has become quite conditional.
Fuck all those poetry cliches about roses, chocolates and long ass words that contain more syllables than metaphysical.
I wanna woo you again, tun up the pum pum with phrases and reaffirm your belief in love something spiritual.

So, I’m writing to you on some “dear love of my life” type shit,
Using bold face fonts to express intensity when I type shit.
I’m going to underline every promise and oath I make in this poetical decree.
So you can reread it as a reminder to remind yourself that “he loves me.

We spend our whole lives looking for someone worthy enough to spend our meaningless lives with, in the craziest pursuit to make it mean anything.
A journey unlike any of the experiences we encounter, unable to rewrite or retry many things.
Awakening along the path to find that in time we were never worthy of loving until we loved ourselves and our history.

I only wanna learn to love you and uncover my lineage.
Be the highlight of your meaningless journey, it would truly be an honor.
I watch you sleep and ponder the fantasy of how beautiful it would be if we couldn’t really age.
Because the preconception of losing you is a burden, a horror, mortal trauma, rape to a slave.

Dear July Love,

I hope our ancestors were right about resurrection and pyramid burials weren’t all in vain. They say slaves didn’t tote those ton blocks, a community constructed those grails. I wanna rewrite our California love, and tell a version that draws more tears than the Montague-Capulet story. I wanna immortalized our matrimony on oak sleeves.

With love,
Your Pharaoh

*** Photo credits due to: UNL http://newsroom.unl.edu/releases/2013/03/22/UNL’s+Jewell+co-edits+first+book+to+reveal+Willa+Cather’s+private+letters

… To Learn, Care

Wiser the man that realizes the plan of the wo-man….
I do then, refuse to believe it’s huge to accuse all men of being mules.
But then why; am I and every guy less in tune with the tunes of our common muse?

“I’m just tryna figure her out…”

And when I do, I hope she still cares about,
The way we exchange change when love is on the drought.
Biblical men say abundance of the heart controls the whole mouth.
So I say I love her 50-11 times but mommy never showed me how to love her like a shrine.
Daddy never showed me how to nurture my creative mind,
But the wife expects me to woo her like she’s fine wine; let her breathe like the reds and make toasts to her like the whites.
When I say breathe I mean exhale and when I say toast I mean impale. (You get the respectable and sexual connotations on every relations’ holy grail.)

But I should note;
I haven’t cared for her like I’ve learned.
To busy being selfish when the prize on the shelf is being burned.
It’s quite complicated un-learning, re-yearning the same barriers we’ve overturned.
Screaming regrets like overtures just to arrive at my initial conclusion.. I haven’t cared for her like I’ve been learning or like I can learn.
So wiser is the man that realizes the plan… of the woman trying to teach me how to care; for her.

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