Poetry to me is like a stoner to weed

Like a rose that grew from concrete, I find hope when I put pen to paper

Life has no eraser so whenever I write a line, I draw the line

Every time I spit people get into they pajamas because they know it's story time

Sorry I'm being vague, I mean I tell stories in my poetry

Words are deeper in meaning like you're hearing the story from Floetry

I'm a soul child who loves musiq

I go from listening to average poetry to listening to Drake

Acid comes off my words like the rapper

When it rains, their will be a chance that I'll be awake listening to Pimp A Butterfly

I'm just a mortal man who listens to J. Cole

How much does a dollar cost when you change your dream three times?

I see a thicke robin before me

Or is it my head playing games?

The after affects of those blurred lines...

Words.. are the window to the soul. 

I love how simple they can be, 

yet encrypt an immense population of savage syllables and concoct cleverly creative combinations of contractions and continuity. 

So listen to this next sentence as it bubbles up in my belly and travels up through my throat and escapes out of my esophagus. Over the silver of my quick tongue and out of these latitudinal lips that hunger to be heard. 

These same lips inscribe incendiary inscriptions- because i can light up entire crowds with just one word... 

BOOM! goes the dynamite! Listen to the witty word play as it lights a fire in your mind, blowing up your need to read like lighting C4 laced with napalm and nitroglycerine. 

Throwing great grammar like hand grenades. Artillery lined up with alliteration. Our biological dictionaries are in a perpetual play of a world war two word war game. 

This maniacal mixing pot of language is the reason why my mind's a Mary Magdoline of mad melodies and menage e trois, boiling and brewing. Pieces of the literation leaves a-lit-narration. Wonderful Rhythms of a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man flinging facetious fallacies

this is easy, like i graduated bakers school with the highest GPA- Grains Per Average_ and ill be making major bread, but it wont be sour-dough. Yes, highest in the class, ill be "Hon-or Roll."

I love words. And i want you know know the acronym of why i love words-

maybe its the wittiness of the word play. Oh! Or the omnipotent affects of onomatopoeia open doors just like the doctor, drilling rhetorical romanticism into your minds with sonic screwdrivers- the diction being he remnants of an unused mind. but this dalek wants to EXTERMINATE the ignorance of the unused mind. 

get it through your thick cranium that words can bring sick pleasure like superman shooting u with kryptonite and humans with meth and uranium. 

Hotter then the hottest cold, so bring a sleeveless jacket. please don't let language go more unread then the directions on a kool-aid packet. 

but you wouldn't know that. 

You wouldn't know how addictive the heroine in the story is- crack plot crack rocks boiling in your arm, mmm. this feeling is amazing

Language- is amazing. and as easy to read as watching a pollen stained bumble in the breeze- A-Bee-C?

I hope that wasnt as confusing as finding out that the letters between K and O were more than one letter- but thats L-M-N-tary.

We know almost every word; every symbol; every syllable.

but in a world that has something new to say every day, do you want to know what my favorite word is... 

Silence.

Those who don't learn history

Are doomed to repeat it

And we failed to realize

What just started

I'm talking about this

semi-declared

sorta kinda

not quite

war thing

Use those

Hash tags as

weapons of war

So get to trending!

Maybe we can finally get one over on  media...

Social Media

That one girl we all talk to

She never calls but chats with you every day

But she's not the woman we think she is

She's a trap queen

Literally

Her main export is people

And she caught a fresh batch of suckers

She used the old

Trojan horse trick

You know what I'm talking about

Right...?

You know how you let it right into your homes to like and share

How it draws you in with

Trending topics

Then Springs out at night

With stories that entwine you

In Arachne's world wide web

And slaughter your attention span

Every brain cell that resides in your

Troy of a mind

I think she called it

Facebook...

Narcissus, the narcissist

Should be a prime example

Of what happens when you get too drawn into the mainstream

You drown in it

But breathe easy

As soon as you get enough likes then you'll be saved

They'll throw out twitter handles

For you to grab

But

What if you can't?

Those black flag hash tags

That sail through your time line

Were just trying to get their message across

It was a warning

your free will was not enough characters

To keep it secure

Relax, friends

I can already hear your fingers yelling in all caps

Tweeting the day away

Twitter beef keeps you arguing behind glass prison bars

But don't fall for her tricks anymore

She wants to see those chickens

Clucking up the wrong tree-

Branches spread out to every corner of the globe

Because no one really understands

Privacy settings anymore

That's why MySpace is abandoned now

when you agitate it enough

It fights back.

She was the woman to make physical abuse acceptable to pass time...

Get it

She started the phrase "kik me later"

Social Media psychologically profiles you the longer you know her

She gets to know who you really are

uses this information

To change herself

Then she uses her knowledge against you

To create your personalized nightmare

She uses you more than you use her

And she has a full arsenal

So when she pulls her piece out

She says

"this tech is the pinicle of your existence "

Backspace, because we don't want to go over the limit

So she turns it to the side

Points it at you

And says

"this TECH is the pinicle of your existence"

And you took it to heart

Remember this is a flame war

Comments are the new artillery

And all we have to do is lay down our ammunition

This is a war we can stop with

One click of a button

Get out of those Facebook pages

And put your face in actual book pages

Don't drown in this social experiment

Emerge out of this finger lock she has on us

Because media's goals

Is to make us less social

I once knew a love so pure,

that you could only find it in kindergarten

A place where castles reached high above the sandbox

And our only homework

Was to think about what we wanted to be when we grew up.

Those were the days we used to go out to play for recess

And There

a princess

Constructing her own Kingdom

And I wanted to be apart of it

So I thought about going over to talk to her

I took a deep breathe to clear my mind

She made me feel Squishy

Like play dough

The only thing to wash this feeling away was a stiff shot

of Apple juice

she was a musician

tuning my nerves to walk up to her

My mind

An orchestra of thoughts on how she could be the Mrs. to my Mr. Potato head

We were going to build each other up

Piece by piece

Hands sweating, I gave her my last cookie...

Because her smile was sweet enough for me

When I walked up

I thought I said

"Hi, my name is...

Your playmate for the next eighty years"... But what I actually heard was

Dun dun

Dun dun

Dun dun

I was determined to get her to like me.

When she played with Barbie dolls,

I grabbed a G. I. Joe and told her

"I am willing to fight for you "

She was the only girl I ever shared my crayons with... 

And I had the sixty-four box with the sharpener in the back.

If you had that, you were set

Coloring passionate pictures of holding hands

But I must've had the wrong coloring book

Because she started coloring passionate pictures

With another boy

I mean come on!

He had the 128 pack of crayons

colors I never even heard of...

What the heck is a fuscia?!

My head

a mosh pit

Of crayons flung in anger

And one of those colors

Read heartbreak

Perhaps you misheard the title of my poem.

It's not about my

kindergarten krushes but

how

kindergarten

krushes

She was a deceptive-con artist

Stole my all spark of a heart

And left me in a war of

Grubby little hands that couldn't hold a care in the world

but still crush you

I remember

Kids played hot potato with things other than your heart

Like

I tried to give her the world

But I never seemed to have enough green play dough

I remember

when they asked me

"what I wanted to be when I grew up"

Now I can tell you

I want to be the little kindergartener who falls in love again for the first time

Heart foreign of the concept

broken

Because one day

I'm going to fall in love again

And were going to create a new kingdom

In this new sandbox

So ill wait

Because I'm saving this last

Heart shaped cookie

Just for her

He pushes -

So I pull.

He runs -

I chase after him.

He ducks for cover -

I'm exposed - an easy target.

I'm getting frustrated -

He looks back.

I say "Fuck this."

He says "Wait!"

I pivot on heel and stomp away.

He says "Where are you going?"

I'm pushing -

He pulls.

I'm running -

So he gives chase.

Until he says "Fuck this."

Then it's my turn again.

And again.

Why do we do this?

Oh right,

We both have faulty hearts and

Defective thought processes.

We wear our distrust like a crown,

And never give our all.

That piece we hold back -

That piece we hide, hoarding it selfishly -

Thinking it protects us from the other -

It protects nothing.

It only ensures we'll never fully love.

One of us will give up for good,

Or die trying.

Hello my sweet angel

Did you make it home safe?

Or was the road bumpy?

I miss you on this big green earth

You were an inspiration and the reason for me living

Despite all the killing that happened you still breathed life into others

You taught me how to love one another and to spread peace to every sister and brother

You were an angel like no other

To me you were like a father

The day you brought out the gun and pulled out the trigger

I succumb to my depression and fell in love with the liquor

You made me question myself

I felt lost when you left

At first I was mad being here by myself

But you taught me to do better

My sweet angel

Freddy I'm living the life that you taught me

So thank you for everything my sweet angel

whiteout soft snow

i feel cold

graze passed me

into my house.

i am panicked-

oh my gosh

look what you

just did grandpa,

you ruined my

house with snowballs.

It's Austin, Texas time with this guy who is - no lie - a bit of a hybrid between Hemingway and King. Among other archetypes. And suddenly the great typewriter in his mind sings, receiving a signal of certain insight and significance concerning just how we might wield the e-might of all who write and, inspired, conspire against the greedy desires that hardwire the incumbent economic matrix for writers. Shit...and readers. 

You better believe this. 

Anyway he thus needs this moment to own Prose and present its presence to silly-old-me amidst beer, whiskey, and chicken wings in the motherfucking Omni. 

I know. 

Mental and physical literary omnideliciousness insistently ensued allowing our intuitions an opportunity at apparently abolishing an atrociously abysmal arrogance emblematic of our inherited era, id est almost all authors' anguish, et al.

Two years and three days later, I proved here that A is no Prose hater.

Cheers!

What is this thing called life?

Is it a virtual reality?

Is it a facade that someone who we consider God conjured up?

Or is it a power higher than God?

According to Google: life is the condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change preceding death.

Death.. Death.. Death..

Such a beautiful word for an ugly outcome in this thing we call life.

Why is it that life is only meaningful when we live it how we make it?

Why is that meaning meaningless when someone's life's always taken?

Why is it that we're told to go do something and do it like we're the actual reality of the sims?

How can we live a good live if we're always living in sin?

How can you live in this thing called life?

Nowadays love spreads so loosely when love should be sacred

You tell a girl you love her and now she's in the bed naked giving it all away to a boy who doesn't pay her attention

"But hey, he loves me" she'd always say

Sorry honey but true love is one that won't betray

You waiting on your period but theirs an unexpected delay and now the man you had intercourse with doesn't "love" you in any way

But hey that's what you deal with in this thing called life

You have people that sit up and complain about the world but won't go vote

And then when the countries in shambles you sit and point fingers at everyone but yourself

But you should be putting all the blame on yourself

Cause your vote could've mattered

Now our ancestors who've been abused and battered are rolling in their graves and racists are filled with laughter cause we can't even solve a simple congressional problem

Or are we the problem?

Those are questions you have to ponder on in this thing called life

We're so wrapped up in the negativity that we forget to spread positive vibes

I want a peaceful world where we shouldn't have to fear for our lives

Or cry over someone who committed suicide over something you did

Told them not to do something but you're out here doing it

Gosh what a hypocrite

Spreading fake tears over something you could've prevented

You realized that their sufferings something you could've ended

But this phenomenon that we call life is just too much to handle

Well it sure is better than standing alone at their grave lighting candles

If this is what we call life than I want out

People go missing from life like coins in the couch

These young females are told to life live before a life grows and now they're the ones missing their period like typos

This isn't the life I want

I want to spread the peace but don't know where to start

If my voice alone doesn't reach your heart

Then I hope by poetry could at least create a spark

In the end, I just hope you can get though this thing called life

Frosty the Snowman was a tormented blood driven soul

with a big sharp knife and a button nose

and two eyes that belonged to my friend Cole

Frosty the Snowman

Is a nightmare they say

He was made of snow but the devil knows

How he came to life one day

There must've been some witchcraft

In that old rusty knife they found

For when he placed it in his hand

He began to destroy the town

Frosty the Snowman 

Was as evil as he could be

And the children say he could kill all day

Even going after you and me

Slashety slash slash

Slashety slash slash

Hid from Frosty, Go

Slashety slash slash

Slashety slash slash

Before he gets you, oh

Frosty the Snowman

Knew it was going to rain holy water that day

So he said, "Time to die and make some human pie,

Before I burn away"

Down to the village

With a chainsaw in his hand

Killing here and there, all around the square,

Sayin', "I'll catch you, yes I can."

He dragged their bodies down to the streets of that town,

Right by the traffic cop

And he only paused a moment

Then he slit his throat before he could say, "Stop!"

Frosty the Snowman

Had to hurry on his way

But he waved goodbye. Sayin' "You better cry. I'll be back for you one day."