The chef builds a house around
A sinkhole in the ground
Out of ashes rises concocted oceans
Fusions and potions
Flavors from the soul. splendid notions
All his aspirations and moneys abound
Spent in his desire to make a new sound
But little Betty Yelps her review
Her mirrored reflection on her knees in a pew
Her own sinkhole it spews
The chef closes his doors as she texts from her bed. The power we’ve gained with discrediting threads. Entitled from birth resurrecting the dead. “I just came for the comments” they tweeted and said. It’s a bible study and no one breaks the bread.
The internet lord and saviour
creme brulee on your screen it has no flavor
Boredom is a state of mind
I actually enjoy being bored
I also enjoy
Seeing. Touching. Feeling. Smelling. Tasting. Experiencing. Chills.
Writing. Talking learning. Texting.
Looking at you. mirrors. Thrills
Winds tickle my arm hairs. My tongue drowns in tea.
A bird entices my eardrum
My eyes blur changing what I see
Boredom is a cool man’s nature
Absent from the rush of shyiety
Devoid of angst_ Highiety
Given a sweet moment of peace
We have little time not ruled by others
Or the monies that they tease
Play it wisely but don’t tell me
Boredom is your disease
Humans doing and humans being
Hours. minutes. seconds
Elders. adult. babies
Tick the same tock
Until that clock
Runs out of batteries
I smothered it
Before my mother could
Before she did
Bring the ashes down to me
Support me. You have to support me
You’re the only word I breathe
I’m driving with my headlights off
In countries they’ve never seen
Before it can be ruined by the haters
I’ll burn it down …..
but you should see
Maybe the new moms and daughters
Can stroke the flowers. Plant the seeds
Tonight I’m in Vienna.
Not afraid of immigrants
Or vomit on the streets.
Men will be men without mothers around
I’ll try not to be the one to smother the sound
With my jaded eyes
Baby little leaves they die
Before the forest grows new trees
Watered by the tears
Of ones who are meant to bleed
As I pretend that I’m the sorry one
Hungry little boy. Hungry pathetic needs
I found in this old city
A youthful hope. Maybe it can breed
I’m just passing through
But there’s a seed inside of me
A man’s beard will turn grey
Sure he is tired
Stressed. Ignored. Overweight.
Tired and underpaid
A man’s desires change. Hesitate.
Not so much from the burdens
But from the notion he won’t be great
All lifes aspirations gone unnoticed
Another patch of grass on a grave
One day he will come to see,
what he has made is all he will be
He won’t have time to make world peace
Or even change reality
Succumbing to us, society
He too starts to dissolve into the sea
Our nondescript, bland parlor of nobody’s
Of backseat heroes and worker bees.
An opinionated zero a lurker with a wheeze
I hope this man made a family
Before he got caught up with the squeeze
Of lifes biggest hypocrisy.
To try to please
I was sipping on a cup of coffee
But it didn’t want to talk to me
So I took it to the movies
I was too obsessed with you
To pay attention to the screen
Even after the credits. I sat there wishing
You were right there next to me
Every tune I hear
Every time I turn on the TV
I imagine telling you about it
Like how you’d tell others about the things we did together, or things I said
I was sipping on a cup of tea.
1 sugar just a splash of cream
You used to listen to me
It’s not that I’m seeking vengeance
Not that I’m angry I was bullied in high school or by my older brother
It’s just that I dont trust. Because always sitting across from me, looking me in the eyes. Are men.