Now

There was a time
when people read.

Now the shelves are full of
for-idiot help-books,
management, and health books.

Where have we left our poetry?
On 2 half-assed racks in the back corner.
Its looks somewhat like hell'n winter,
infernos and frosts, with little n between.

See,
we like mixing our fossil records,
on turntables with pistol grips.
Scratch that, flip the script.
Repeat: loop to infinity.

Most only skim pictures,
and even then, to them,
words are only symbols:
and unrepresentative of empirical reality.

Science may define gravity,
but seems to lack answers
as to its origin-
therein lies the stanza:
divinely inspired.

On a higher plane,
unafraid of being different,
flying the coop.
I survived the shark pool.

Who's tryna shoot up
a magic 8ball?

Draw.

Stop wasting away on lines of nonsense.
Read the autobiographies
of timeless,
prophets-
ghandi,
jesus, martin,
mohammed,malcolm,
buddha, scholars of truth:
Agents of the common-conscious.

Study hard,and then study harder,
because some tests aren't worth failing.

One finds freedom in the wild,
not off next exits,
or misdirected searches,
but persistent trial.
And error.

Acquitted on video evidence:
play it back,
I am not turning tricks on your eyes,
I'm just fucking with your mind.

Come over in the night.

Walk through fire,
you'll sleep well
on beds of coal.
Your heart is convulsing,
better-check your pulse.

May these words
put it all on the line.
We are all intertwined,
and equally strainuous.

Thank you for your time.

Dear Diary,

It is easy to love guns
when you've never had to use one.

Bruise from the blue steel:
these black mornings
proceed a-wake through fields
of unmarked graves.

Every day is like a funeral-
being strong,
then falling to your knees
when everyone is gone.

Everyone is gone.

I'm falling.

I pray that God
can reconcile my wrongs-
most people aren't as forgiving
as they let on.

Forgive me, for my
stigmatic palms are the remnants
of a sacrificial offering
of holding-on-too-long.

The nine's piercing cries
emanate from the lake-bottom.
"Dry your tears,
nobody hears them anyway."

Nobody knows my deepest secrets,
I've locked them away with monsters
in a stomach full of swallowed pride
and keys- to never see the dawn again.

Dreamers die young,
or fall victim to nightmares.

Fall-victim.

I've been fighting
for a lifetime:
far too long to remember,
or want to.

How I long for a full nights sleep,
for a genuine conviction of optimism,
but my dreams all died slow.

Rest in, piece.

Blue color worker

These are men,
nothing more, no-thing less.
Flesh and bone, hand-blown
by the breath of the wind.

Catch the drift.

Money is only valuable
when you have nothing to begin with.
We got head starts on addictions,
prisons, and dead ended routes.

It has taught us how to live
with faded lipstick on our cheeks
and purple hearts.

The world is a stage
we play our parts,
if only for an instant.

They say play your heart out,
I coughed it onto my palm,
and started boxing with the beat,
strumming my aorta to the song
of rhythmic feet.

We will dance,
until the sun don't shine
on our burnt backs
and calloused hands.

To the beat, we keep.

Listen'in.

Toro

We danced, in the faces of each other's imminent demises. The passion in your pupil, framed by your crimson iris, entices me nearer. Today, I will take you down. Come running to me; I am unwavering in my stance. I will stand firm, by your side.

Circumnavigating our own little word in seconds split between, you and I.

Time slows for our feet; crowds clap to the beat, of our enraptured moments. The heat goes unnoticed. I know your rage- I play into it's deafening anguish. Unrequited pursuit brought you to me, and then around to your senses. I traced the outline of your spine with the tips of my fingers. I'm wearing you down with infernal persistence. You will feel the fire pierce your shoulder blades, into your heart.

I am a gentle killer- this wont hurt; trust me.

One last charge: you lowered your head, as if to bow to the crown destiny bestows upon thee, now. Turning away, I drove the blade down smoothly, through the muscle mass, in the spot only I know how to touch. You stumbled off, alone, for the last time. The blindfold eased the bitterness of defeat.

Staggering- you fell into my arms, bleeding.

I nuzzled your muzzle and nudged you with my shoulder, as if to tell you it was safe to let go. There is no sense in holding on much longer. Finally, I felt your neck loosen as your breathing slowed. Surrender. Your soul is awaiting its fate.

Patience draws you closer, breath by breath, as silence enfolds you.

You cannot even say you love me, but I know. Your eyes give you away. They shine the brightest when I quench their flames. You won't be felled. I will make you mine, and put you out of your pain, out of the goodness of my heart- for yours.

-Matador