Tag Archives: mental

1434

Some days, the world closes in around me.

For minutes at a time, the earth shakes as though a thousand dormant volcanoes have erupted in unison.

I chase after my breaths like a 5-year-old with bubbles on a breezy afternoon.

I am deaf to the beat of my heart.

The sun orbits the earth before I come around to the understanding of my plight.

I am at war with my shadow.

Afraid of fading from view, I like stringing sentences like tennis rackets.

Mantras slip through my fingers like perfect ex’s.

Questioning supposed recklessness I break fast.

Peace is a stranger that refuses to converse.

I silence the alarm despite being raised by a nurse.

Always an episode instead of a series.

The script seems more powerful every time.

Maybe this is what I deserve.

Payback for the other side of me.

Maybe it’s the design for me

Anxiety.

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Filed under Just Living, Random Poetics

2/30 – Penny on the pavement

Too busy sipping tea to smell the roses.
Pockets full of pansies, posers
Too busy seeing red to be a Moses.
Ignoring the driftwood while singing Oceans.
Too busy, too focused to be open.
Neglect a catalyst of foreclosure.
Drowning, Emotion, Head up, No One. Head shot, Implosion,
Rest in peace? We don’t know that.

Nice memories, for sure, yeah.
Too busy being me to notice
That’s what it’ll be til it’s over, til it’s over
It is far from over….

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Filed under 30 day challenge, Society

Million Ways

Million Ways:

(Me)

Fighting on inches when moments would suffice
Head lies crawl through the epidermis
The sperm is energized like electrons
Neutrons spin in frenzied atomic glee
Singing I wish I could be free like the Legend of the John
Pimped out by spinning pulsars watching orderly stars exist
Why dost normality persist when fantasy is evolution
Champagne supernova is the solution
Get drunk on revolution
See banality is pollution yet everybody acts clean
Out of vented spleen windows are cleaned
They say you gotta die to live and I’m a suicide fiend
A homicidal maniac, a sniper of actuality
Breaking souls with a sentence, killing them with logical sanity
Remixing their incarnations with intonations of moon.
Saying there’s a million ways to die but I’d rather make the vultures swoon….
For Me

(Jodi)

I play hooky from he that is death
Outta breath
Living life in more seconds than time allows
Never picked the short stick,
But fate got a case of hate and I continue to raise my brow
Wonderin what he up to now
Attacks are coming
When, where, why and how
Knife stabs and low jabs
Swollen face for tryin ta face em…
Head on
So I headed on
Unconsciously warned
Scorned
For thinking I controlled life just cause I was born
Torn
Between the plots he plans
Tryin to get a grip
But he has a full house
So I gotta fold in my hand
Tryin to find an angle
But he 180’d my 90
Supa fast like whip lash
Premonitions thrown out with the trash
And he straightened out my hindsight and blinded out my future so I couldn’t see
Leavin me empty
Reached in my stash
Tried to pay death off but he wanted souls not cash
There’s a million ways to die…
I wish he’d just choose one…

(Me)

I stabbed her with visions of my past pain till she sang soprano
The modals of her yodels burst my banks
Blood money was the currency of thanks for her mirror
Jagged souls sang as they passed port to the fast lane
Concorde to the last gain, last cause, jungle wars
Stalking perception with no pause
Animal instincts on all fours I was used to wound licking
She said there’s a million ways to cook chicken
8 bullet barrels in a pistol with one trigger
6 letters make a nigger
Yet he needs four to live as she reached out in the dark
Saying I am Wrigley Field, I am Fenway Park
Step up to the home plate you can feed your flame in the dark
For even bats can see play or be played off the park
Her eyes pierced like a shot in the dark
All I heard was the swish before she swayed in an arc
She died giving rebirth to me
To love myself was her last respect

(Jodi)

Respect paid
Body laid
With a million ways he chose to torture me
Net caught my life before he set me free
Now I have nuttin left but respect for thee
Embracing the elevated view of the scene before me
He was the owner of a life that made living weak
Pain’d by those who’d never “circle and inner Y”…Pump peace
His hunger for death led an attention craving frenzy
Embodied John Gotti
Mafia controlled following bodies
Held the hand of the clan
Whispered a little hate and reeled ’em in
Train derailed music and gangs
Started an epidemic that’s killin men and can’t be contained
His gift is quite precise
Slashing unity with rigged dice
Political gambles and fights over raising oil’s price
With the world in his hand
He plucks away a few each day
You can choose the trick
Cause he’ll treat ya a million ways…
Choose One!

Adrian “Poetic7” McKenzie/Joanna OrJustplain Jodi Collaboration © 2011 All Rights Reserved

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E.P.

Listen as you Read along

I’m just …

Trying to find my narrative

My parity

Many moments of clarity

Are given like money to charity

Falling on deaf ears to get lost in time

We all have to speak our minds

But do we ever act on its design

I’m

Writing epic verses

Building roads with purposes

Muddied and dusty virtues

Litter my journey

Its

Beyond the gates of my nature

My nomenclature

Out of the comfort zone I deserve to gain or lose status

I’ll be blessed to have haters

But if they don’t exist I can’t breathe

Roots, branches, or leaves

Dishonesty tortures and grieves

Eroding trust and belief

Rather live in a barren dessert than in a mansion with forty thieves

See

Honesty and deceit breed inquisition

They say life is a game so play your position

Hate is a cancer, get some remission

Repentance

I can break souls with a sentence

Lips do what the pen does

When shallow minds seek to bend us

Promised the hallow stupendous

End us

If you don’t get the picture increase your dimensions

Stroll down memory lane

Use experience as your frame

Nail aims like the last bullet of a sniper

Philosophies people hype up

Psyche up

Read and get your psyche up cos the game got tighter

Live your own epic verse

We were all born writers

Of legacy

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Filed under Just Living

scribble

Waking up each day to a grave cacophony
My Lazarus complex got me in check for how its got to be
I’m sick of playing money games when I aint gained the monopoly
Working life reducing shifts feeling like I’m a slave to poverty
Aint losing my head yet they challenge me follicly
Love is a losing game so hear my soliloquy

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Filed under Just Living, Random Poetics

Rebirth Control

My inspiration for my 7th of 30 poems comes from a Facebook status on the 16th of December posted by a talented musician friend of mine known as “Silverchet”. Follow @silverchet on twitter.

“I Dont Wanna Hear How 2010 is Gonna Be “Your Year”, Or How 2010 is A “Time for Change”, I Been Hearing That Year After Year, So Quit Procrastonating and do what you Gotta do…….I speak to myself as I do you all”

16 December at 18:19 ·

 

Rebirth control

At the end of every year we engage in a ritual of giving and receiving presents, to some we give our presence, to others we scribe from a sample of our essence.

Taking time to recharge, a new year will it bring a new start, a new chapter new lessons?

Will we have counted our blessings, paused for reflection, spotted our contradictions and created new traditions?

Halted attrition of self ignition

Or will we simply continue unpause the game from the X box

Continue where we left off

Revive the consternation instead of tidying our desktop

Let our system hang and our heads drop

Beheaded because we’re big headed

Talk about change yet we’re dreadlocked

Locked in dread because change means the whole head

We’ve got to brain wash and condition in order to sew fruition

We talk about chasing the dream not the competition

Every new year is a new you year until problems hit then, those resolutions…

Those Resolutions

Those revelations that made you make statements

How you knew they were pain staking but resolute enough

Yeah … those solutions, improvements…those resolutions that had so you so focussed you had me thinking change was embedded in your follicles

Only for 6 months later change is soluble like aspirin

Did you think change was a sprint?

Did you think  change would be a Usain of the bolt type change

Sweep you off your feet and leave you with no time to breathe type change

Where is the new you I say?

It takes pain to move pain because something has to die before you come back to life

Pre mortem dissection, microscopic detection for signs of regression

Grown folk need a soul session not a 1 month campaign at every month 11

Yelling to the world from midnight of the 31st I begin my resurrection

Obama’s slogan for election

I am who I choose to be and when I start’s change in me it is for my refreshment

It’s a present to my presence, my essence, my gain

Drink to a year of pain to locate the step up, celebrate finding it, then put up, shut up or full on step up.

Wake up, Get Up for the shooting range, take your best shot at life and work towards your main aim

For when your breath is short and your soul’s screaming to get away

You better be elected, there’ll be no more campaign, no more rebirth

Your life’s been your day to prove your worth

But how will you handle your 31st?

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Filed under Random Poetics