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Shoutouts

A collection of poems written by The Real Adonis

This poem is dedicated to my friends that have the writing bug in them... Trillis Caldwell-Parks Tiffany K Jones and Beth Pearson:::: SPREAD YOUR WINGS !!!

You are the spark that ignites your flame
You are the fog that dramatizes your reign. The reason you have something to gain, Is the reason why you were brought upon existence, you were gone before you came. Look behind you while your lagging and you will see JUST the same. THE BUG IS IN YOU!!!... You are the Destiny you have been dreaming about waiting to be inspired; Ready to make a change!

najhee and Imani never met me at all
HERS-were just some birds that I observed last fall. Fighting one another for bread and butter as I recall. A beautiful winged thing with it no destination at all. I could see imani soaring over a precious water fall. Najhee poking for bits and scraps on the coast near the board walk. Fascinated with fighting, although I wish they'd stand tall; I've come to accept what once I wept... which will never change at all. A language unbroken by the most intelligent... Speaking un-heard maintaining relevance...Trusting my selfish thirst for entertainment and pause. A seed brain wise enough to keep its distance from being mauled. I was just some flesh who always fed them again. I would travel west they would just followed the wind. A commonality we had noone could comprehend, and "pSSst" was the name I gave them when they didn't hear my calls.

 Happiness is a drug with no infinite HIGH. A prince of small countries, A gas with no fumes. I can leap light years but I'm small on the moon. Larger than life as a bud that won't bloom. What's the since in light when I'm absent of gloom? All my life I've been searching for truth. Is life for lease? or have I discovered my groove, an innocence captured by the claws of its muse.

And then there was calm.
Nesting in the clouds of soon to come
aching in my bones the feeling of DONE.
the oracle of over and then the duration of doom A darkness slowly sets across the walls of my room. Waiting for destruction, anticipating dispair.
DEATH is even looking at me with an innocent stare.
This is the smoke clearing before I felt the bomb.
the eve of the storm.... and then there was calm

Given a little time YOU can get used to this/ Thinking back when it used to seem so useless...With a liite bit of space YOU can get comfortable/ back in the day it was just to close to home/ But with a litte opportunity YOU can see it through; It wasn't possible when options affected YOUR optical. Now YOUR better, stronger, wiser, And INCOMPARABLE. BUT DIT IT EVER CHANGE? ........
TIME ? SPACE? OPTIONS?.... YOU?

(It's always in you)

She is Imortal. She makes me happy in a death defiant way. Her eyes are a portal. My hemoglobin rises, with just what she has to say. She makes it hard for me to hardly be hard. I am melting in the hardest way. She is undescribable, and unsightly. She has never once spite me-ONCE I had to beg her to HONESTLY SAY, what NOT to say. She IS.... a vague reminisence. A uncertain prediction and DARK in the most vibrant way. She is NON exisitent

Until there was you I had NOT yet discovered compassion. QT coffee in the morning, LIFE-updates/ in-voluntary laughing. Before then I had no need to confide in a "friend"... after you I revealed who I was within. Inside jokes didn't exist, Long walks were ficticious. A non sexual, engagement of minds was what bliss is. I HAD NEVER....and from the opposite sex? You had me high off of a drug... and I awaited the NEXT. /// Chasing my tail going in circles when you left, I aint gon lie, at times-even, I wept. But time leaves us nothing but the memories kept. Is it better to have an lost then to NEVER?....(I'll say yes)

A mature couple; Size=240 pixels wide

She burdens me with her fear. A bitter sweet pain that I enforce. As I mark her neck with rememberance. leaving her with pearls and tears. Its a sweet calm before the storm, as I pound her with cheer. Planting seeds in her meadow as the silence dissapears. She showers me with rain from ear to ear, I hear thunderous claps as I prowl like a lion into the center of her lap. Taking away her conscienceness and leaving her no breath--A blisful way of nature performing an opposite death.

I once fell in love with a rubber, skinned, helium made soul. I watched as it drift off into the sky. I had just turned 8 years old, and for the first time, separated without a goodbye.

I thought my new love had gone through the worst, as I witnessed her physical state shatter and burst. And my peripheral said that the tender neon peelings were all that remained, with my tears of non closure, leaking out from the pain. With age I have over come the illusion of hurt. Watching flesh after flesh, go back in the dirt. And even now as I drown, making my way to the top. I worry for the fish when my Mer-man pops.
 

When in april the sweet showers.... BLOW, into drops of acid that pierce the ozone with a bitter sweet salt that appears like shards of glass, ripping flesh slow. And sleet Storms form clouds of snow. garbage swims along the sky line. and on the surface of muddy waters FISH FLOAT. Cancer drips through your faucet like a bottle of GLOW. sythian empires crush wildlife in order for steel to grow. Oxygen gets thinner, sunshine gets dimmer. Shore line's slimmer, and mother Earth suffers from an auto imune disease that causes her to eat her organs for dinner... And then erupts a scab in the form of Volcanoes, Covering "oil" wounds or blood sucking holes. destroying whats old and soiling whats new. She's here to stay, everything else is just the flu

 

I have never discovered what happiness is....
Often frowning and spectating at the laughter of kids. Creating Sand-castles, and wishing on stars were just myths. Stealing tree houses and making up lies, appeared more fit. Mischeif, like cat burnings, flat tires, and bad slips. Banana tail pipes, and pet poison after age six. Seventeen; broken marriages, skulls, laws and promises- The problem is I never discovered what happiness is...
Until I met a smile in the form of a solar eclipse. The sun set in my stomach, I went from hot to cold quick. One touch and she could make my whole atmosphere mist. The soft of a kiss and the warmth on my neck from her lips, made my compas shift, and my thermometer lost its grip. And I would HAVE done any UN HAPPY thing to protect this bliss. Demote to any measure to ensure my happiness. UNTIL she LEFT. I never discovered what happiness is...

 
I had to Murder "NO"...When I saw another ME today, face down in his coffee steam. Chasing the spring and saving the snow. Facing the the surface of what seemed to be at once a Fake reality. Chasing dreams through drops of tears and catching them through doubts and fears. in advertintly supporting systemic deprivaty. Embracing "cant" and loving "wont" addicted to "impossible" Another me, the Hate of HOPE. Another me afraid of jokes, Another me and blame eloped. So absent from ownership, during my vows I choked. So distant from chance; I left opportunity remote. Another me was lost in the clouds that float, in a sea of black....Today, I had to murder "NO".
 
When we finally meet, the EARTH will divide. my world on top of yours like when stars collide. When we connect with one another a galaxy will form. stars scattered in your universe. My SUN will be born. The second the two of us merge, will be so divine... But thats A distant place, and a moment, in time
 

There is a skin on the surface that can not be removed. A reckoning undone. The scab of abuse. A sad and lonely place that keeps happiness confused. A slave to emotions, addicted to a lit fuse. Often times my beauty mark becomes a friendly tattoo, with rainbows and butterflies, only in my solitude. But when the night fall hits and my fantasies un do. There is a skin on the surface, in the form of the truth.

 

Another obituary at birth blood rushes down my head introducing me to the color of dead. In a world where im guaranteed to be left behind should've stayed my behind in her behind. Now im shit covered with no spine. Left with a pistal and a dangerous mind/ so street for my kind like white lines. subjected to slavery to white lines or the white line. Standing in the front of the back waiting for the open to crack.

 

"There is no such thing as artist development"- Polystylez.

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