Humble Mouths

Raw Perspectives! Wordplay from active minds and humble mouths.

Archive for the tag “humble mouths”

Overcast

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Gray… greatest ceiling cover ever to shelter you, me, your brother,  mother and grandmothers.
Fathers is running farther,  anticipating the storming.
The precipitation atop the perspiration can remedy the burning…
Of lost love or love lost.

How many dictators and righteous men the same been gutted under the slate skies to even slates and battle plains?
Enough to pain.
I just know the sun is hidden,  this fact is proven.
Until I call Ruben, a service member serving in Cali until September.
He said it’s right as rain.
Disconnecting mobile minutes in lieu of that last cool
-breeze that blows before the thunderous pellets drip-drop.

Drop drip,
Drip drip,
Sons die like drops drip for throwing sets and claiming crip.
More lay in red pools dueling over stripes and culture chips,  for saying blood.

Gun on floor,  face on deck,  hog tied with pig legs prying weight on backs for carrying weight, the irony.
Rain falls and absolves whatever hate hasn’t dissolved,
Drains clog as it falls, First 48,
it won’t be solved.

Storm gauges everywhere will serve a purpose.
The bayous can’t hold this much pasta sauce, thicker than roux too.
As red as Texas is Houston feels so black.
I see cops and men that resemble their uniforms give dap.
Ponchos and gone-brellas kiting in the wind.

Overcast

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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 ***

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.

#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

Baggage

What makes my baggage any less than the next, man?
I’m curious like who started the culture of maid of honor and, the best man.
I always thought of myself as the, best man.
But it so appears that my most sacred fears have coined me as a, less man.
Yes man, and no matter how fresh I think my freshness can…

I can’t change that I came with this kid,
Or that this baby mama drama collectively is a package deal.
Hate is stuck to the ribs when family can’t love your love the way you love and seal.
The contradiction to concealer is all the tears it reveals,
Streaks down her soul when I know I need her.
Breaking down her soul like hands laid from a preacher.

Can’t absolve and enumerate my past life, there is no exclusion from the past life so fuck the illusion.
My only savior of adjustment worth the savour is the fast life and all its accelerated flavors; conclusion.

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.

Entry 1

How the fuck do I see you for you when all I’ve been taught about subliminal and direct is that your ass is 50 and your face is 30… percentages of respect.
Obviously you’ve been attending the same class because you’ve tummy tucked, face lifted, ass implanted and then decided to seek respect.
I thought it started with self???

Esteem (slot unchecked)

I’m not making it any easier am I?
When I compare you to them;
All the ones that frequent these procedures for a piece if any of social accep…. -tance.
Same goes for your perspective of me right?

I’m not a baller or a rapper so I’m definitely a trapper right?
Never mind the degree or the master’s I’m chasing, the training I’ve completed or the criticism I’m taking.
Because that’s what this education is “criticism.”
Well you’ll probably accept me for even less if I’ve managed to accrue enough funds to tattoo my neck, arms, legs, back, face and chest.
But then what’s left beneath the ink to see?
Definitely not me.

It would mean the world if my version of you started with conversation and conversions of hue before the sex and address changes.
I didn’t see your face before your ass or breast and you’re pretty so none of that might matter at best.
No wonder I’m barely 30 with these two and you. High debt accompanied by cholesterol and stress, no wonder we got a high ass death….

Ratio, don’t allow me to go racial because 80 percent of the time I did it to myself.
The other 20 percent was them and you.
Any other scenarios are indefinitely unimportant just like my ranking on the facial ladder.
You’re 5 times likelier to be hired over a man and this is the foundation of division… do the maths.

“Who do we think we are…”

John Legend sings, “Who do we think we are…?” Bellowing in another room.

And I fall into concern for self,
Considering all the notches on my belt.
Are these the stories that define my life?
Money I’ve blown, material I own, failing health.
Masking my emotions in a masquerade of career choices and stealth.

And does it all… All fall down?
Because putting it back together seems like a long shot now.
Roadblocks; where failure meets determination and fresh Kung Pao,
White wines and OJ for group toasts now.
Pro-whatever meetings and prayers to excel on the DOW.
It’s just a tiny piece of my soul for a huge fortune of gold, I’m doing better than Judas, but kisses plant equally cold.

The music is still blaring like a concert in the distance, “Who do we think we are…?” Says John Legend.
Clowns like Heath Ledger?
I’m all in the red with ambitions of swiping my name off the ledger.
In the sincerest attempts of becoming a #BOSS

Lost aspect of self, I’m a bigger man though my frame doesn’t agree,
Loss my way on the path to Jesus, traded that for African monarchy.
Bones buried before the bible knew ink,
Before historians knew slave master’s drove their religion into our drinks, and into our kids, then courtesy of whips, now courtesy of “the fix.”

“Who do we think we are?”

A people?

**** A piece inspired by John Legend ft. Rick Ross “Who do we think we are?”

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.

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