Editing Suite Blues

Cut and Paste are double-edged swords

With one edge to the project and the other to my neck

Daring me to look anywhere but the task at hand

And yet, my captors prove to be my newest mentors

Illuminating my understanding to the truth in the palate

Tools never meant to teach and yet they are defiant

See i never thought i’d learn the value in editing

Until my scraps lay strewn on the cutting room floor

No one else cares enough to make sense of

the jigsaw pieces that once formed a larger picture

a grand schematic designed to make a master architect

mad he didn’t come up with it first, and yet

It’s funny how the best laid plans are the first to fail

Still, i try to drag and drop filters over my fallacies

Because I just need you to believe i’m fine for a few minutes

You don’t need to know the truth, just a teaser or a trailer

Anything to keep you entertained 

But nothing you won’t understand unless you choose to stay

I’m in the business of bullshit

I take nonsense and make profit for the purpose

Of keeping you in the dark long enough to get 

a sample of sunlight, since i’m unfit to share in daytime hours.

Hiding never seemed an attractive first reaction

But I can’t help my obsession with my imperfections

Far to insecure to think of letting you glimpse the product

in its rough draft, nah you’re only worth the final cut & premiere

Because i need you to believe i’m avid at this game

Even though i’m a novice still working with stock software.

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  • #poetry #poem #a poem a day #30/30 #30 day challenge #national poetry month #day 25 #day25 #my-poetry #my-thoughts #spilled ink #editing
  • 12 hours ago

A sinners pen…

Some prayers never need to be voiced.
Apparently Satan listens if I make my wishes aloud
And as always temptation comes at a price.
Even if it’s cheap, it never amounts to what patience obtains
Unfortunately I’ve never been the type to wait on a good thing and thus I keep coming up short
Happiness is a tall order, and nothing I do to catch a break seems to measure up.
Thus precious gems slip through fingers unable to sift through nonsense just to make my prospecting worth the effort.
I seem to settle for pyrite only because it’s easier to find and glimmers just as easily as the ore I long to obtain
Even if it ends up lacking the weight, density and ability to add value, looking good in my palms always seems non-problematic
Until it all crumbles to dust and ashes, blown away by the winds of change, gusts of strife always remind me of my error
But i can’t blame the devil for being attracted to sin when i knew better.
Can’t call God for help when I refuse to offer my best except when I’m in need of a blessing
Only one accountable for my action happens to match my description, yet some times the mirror makes me consider how much different I’ve become in ignoring those still small whispers.
This is not an apology.
Because sorry never made up for the transgression
I’ve got more shouldve and would’ves to match what i could’ve been but the fact remains
I’m solely responsible for the soul behind these sentences.
And I’ll continue to miss out on my inheritance
Because habits are hard to break even with plenty of incentives.

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  • #poem #poetry #religious #my-poetry #my-writing #my-thoughts #letter to god #30/30 #30 day challenge #a poem a day #regrets #so many regrets #day 21
  • 14 hours ago
  • 4

Letter To A Mirage

Never understood the picture of a bunny running after a carrot until tonight.
Couldn’t catch the allure behind trying to chase the unattainable until my heart turned jackrabbit.
Sprinting through meadows only known to my mind, as if my prize was ever meant to be tangible outside my skull
I guess I’ve always had a knack for wanting what I can’t have.
But the pity in puppy eyes are lost on female dogs tired of a flea bitten mongrels old tricks.
Lately I’m a stray just waiting to get put down because a happy home with family was never intended for my pedigree.
My loves been back and forth between the pound and random front porches, only occasionally obtaining temporary happiness just to end up tossed back through front doors never meant to open.
Funny how I darted into traffic hoping that the pavement i pursued would lead me closer to home but
I suppose my speed left me blind to the coupe creeping up behind

I was just a quick bump under another man’s tires only to

end up a lump of roadkill unrecognized

my last breath wasted on trying to cry

knowing damn well it was never worth it wishing I never tried.

You’ll never know the groans of boys tossed into yesterday’s garbage
Or men left a mess by maidens who will always be free of blemishes
I was taught that great rewards come to those who set a goal and never quit but after you in not sure how true that is.
I hate how juvenile I feel in indulging a dream never meant to manifest for men like I
And as I watch you walk hand in hand with the guy meant to catch the apple of my eye I wonder if God felt robbed when he watched the fruit of his labor consumed by those with nature’s not divine.
I was this close to calling you the Muse my poems called to but I suppose I have yet to define terms meant for more righteous tongues.
I just never imagined being able to miss something I never had.

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  • #30 day challenge #30/30 #a poem a day #a poem about love #spilled ink #my-poetry #my-thoughts #my-writing #Mirage #Muse #farewell #day24 #day 24
  • 15 hours ago
  • 3

Demi-god

I find myself 

trying to isolate the anchor

that secures my concept of manhood

and as i follow the chain into the depths

the rust and dents indicate one truth

It’s hard to separate masculinity from mistake

When every example of how to behave

Couldn’t operate with honor

Felt no need to follow a higher call

Would rather run amok than raise a standard

And thus it’s clear to me why my life

Seems to sit anxiously on shifting sands

As if anticipating fault lines to reveal their wrath

Once the pressure of trying to be different

Falls on my world and shakes it to it’s core.

I only know how to erupt.

My magma never learned how to create

And in all my pyroclastic fury

It would take a kiss from life giving waters

And the breath of heaven 

just to inspire life from all the death i carry inside

If I am in the image of God

I imagine that He’s holding back his hand

Knowing just how apocalyptic a flick of his wrist is

I’d guess he whispers for the sake of our ears

Knowing how easily he could shout eternal silence

And I’d say he keeps his face turned away

Just to keep his promise to never flood the earth

with bitter tears dammed up to deprive us of our

deserved damnation.

If God is the only example of manhood i can grasp

Then i’m sad to say i can guess at understanding

How much heavier the weight attached to this path is.

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  • #poetry #poem #my-poetry #my-thoughts #30/30 #a poem a day #spilled ink #day22 #day 22 #national poetry month #30 day challenge
  • 1 day ago
  • 3

4/23 - Regrets & Doubt

I want my rage back.

The fire I held like a torch in my younger days

The heat that kept me warm against 

Cold shoulders attached to frigid hearts

Because happiness lacks the intensity

Needed to break through icy winds

Contentment is too relaxed to defend

While the world seems to stay on the attack

and love is far too forgiving of anything

far too understanding of every sin committed

far too accepting of any mistake admitted

to be effective in preventing the touch of pain

Give me back my hate.

That feeling I reserved for everyone until

proven remotely innocent.

Give me back my pride.

The ability to harden my will against

the very appearance of weakness and uncertainty

Because I’m not built for the life i’ve been living.

I’m not as good as i’ve tried to be

My love comes with expectation

My happiness comes at my own expense

My forgiveness never forgets and is half-assed

I’m all excuse with little execution and 

I wonder if everyone can see my inconsistencies

If they can pinpoint my flaws 

Isolate my shortcomings

and use those against me.

I know I would.

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  • #poetry #my-poetry #my-thoughts #spilled ink #heartbreak #30/30 #30 day challenge #national poetry month #a poem a day #day 23 #day23
  • 1 day ago
  • 2
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  • 2 days ago
  • 2
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  • #oualumni #lefam #ans
  • 3 days ago
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  • #deadeye #deadwatermerch #goodmorning
  • 3 days ago
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  • 3 days ago
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  • #nerdish #happy420 #sonicthehedgehog #ootd #happyeaster
  • 3 days ago
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  • #nsq #ootd
  • 5 days ago
  • 3

4/18 - The Cut.

People ask my where my hair went
And I’ve always got a different response
To answer varying inquiries as to how Samson lost the symbol of his strength
Well you see, I’ve had my share of Philistines
Delilahs danced their digits through my locks and dreaded thoughts of me sharing secrets with any other siren
Even while they placed pawns in position to play predator
Hunting prey to please Queens who couldn’t handle the King keeping them in Check
I once wore a crown but abdicated my throne once the stakes in this game rose
I never planned to pay a toll because gold could never outweigh what I built out of my blood sweat and saltwater tears
And yet my soul wasn’t enough to satisfy the appetite of sharks disguised as mermaids
So rather then offer my still beating heart I sacrificed my glory for a chance to start over.
Instead of giving my past authority over my present I separated myself from the pair in favor of my future
And what’s funny about it all is how much I resemble a kid I thought lost to the long forgotten days of innocence.
I resurrected what reminds me of the better days as if acting as incentive to never again give myself carelessly
To women more concerned with ignoring their own brokenness than attempting to let two lives heal in tandem.
See a long-haired Adonis once wrecked a temple and took out every one of his demons at the cost of his breath and I took my cue fro m the cloud of dust lingering over the debris.
There’s no point in letting the heavens send me to an early grave for the sake of someone else’s sunrise.
I’m not fond of making the sky fall but if I had to choose between
shattering the pillars holding the heavens weight from harming their limited concepts of me
Or simply playing along as if I’m only the sum of my looks I’d select the part where I severed ties to a life I no longer Identify with.

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  • #poetry #poem #my-poetry #my-thoughts #national poetry month #a poem a day #30 day challenge #30/30 #day 18 #day18
  • 5 days ago
  • 3
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  • 6 days ago
  • 3

Hurt Locker

I’m a soldier that’s lost the need for a medic.
True, I once came crawling into your tent with a collection of wounds
And you managed to sew and salvage the battered portions of my damaged flesh
Breathed love and affection into my scars and bullet holes until my form returned to health
But as much as I value your ability to nurse weakness into strength with momentum
Id be too tempted to never venture away from where it’s safe if I stay within arms reach avoiding the harm I escaped from
See I can’t grow in rehab. I’m not a potted plant that could retire as easily as trees in a greenhouse.
Im in need of a forest,
unafraid of brush fire and not even an axe could hold me back from the freedom i once ran from
Lions only die in cages separate from their pride and I’d much prefer to end up a pelt over the shoulder of a predator than to embrace death without a fight involved.
My honor is worth more to me than the concept of comfort.
I’d do my bloodline disservice to settle for convenience over capturing the dangerous and complicated.
So I’m sorry but I can’t call on you the next time the front lines bring me to the edge of flatlines
I can’t rely on you to extract shrapnel from grenades I laid on.
I won’t ask you to act like I don’t go looking for land mines just to make sure that the next man to march behind me doesn’t lose life or limb.
I’m still waiting on September to end and d-day to bring me an armistice but I can’t promise that when my ship comes into port
And I’m taking in the fanfare afforded young boys sent off to become men in this seemingly endless war
That you’ll be the woman in uniform I’ve been sleeping in trenches behind enemy lines just to see at my tours end.
You just aren’t the girl I’m looking for.

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  • #poetry #poem #my-poetry #my-writing #30/30 #30 day challenge #a poem #a poem a day #national poetry month #day 17 #day17 #spilled ink #for an old flame
  • 1 week ago
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