Virgin suicide

I was on that 144,000 fantasy
believing that the right woman would be saving it for me
but between 8th grade and 22,
I doubt if I met ONE female I was attracted to
who was also a virgin, my soul mate to be
they were all broken in, and sexually free
In my eyes, the best had already been messed with...
and I ended up thinking the virgin bride was a myth.

My faith shattered, what mattered was a carnal desire
that consumed and moved me to love playing with fire
I don't know why but I always had sex on my mind
every other second, like hiccups, my lust made me blind
I couldn’t see clothes or character
I was focused on the aesthetics of her shape and her form

I felt like a wolf with that look in his eye
making all the food nervous, even when I smiled
I couldn’t help myself, it was as if my stomach was growling
attuned to the prey on the streets I was prowling

And when I found a promising morsel to eat
I played with it first, felt its heart beat
and drunk off the rush of temptation I dared
I gave in and slipped in, and enjoyed it, teeth bared

But the magic I expected never showed up
there were no fireworks or explosions, nothing blew up
ts much as I took, I took nothing away
there was still something missing, for all that she gave

I was confused. She was pretty, her body fit mine
but when we weren’t having sex, she was a waste of my time
and the ones that came later, it was the same thing with them
it got boring and I realized I needed a friend

But finding a flower in the weeds of that phase of my life
was like looking for that perfect match to take as my wife
the interviews and trials were depressing at best
while I looked for a girlfriend, revising my tests

It got to the point that if it took me too long
to figure out if the girl was the right one for me or wrong
my interest would wear out, like a record with a groove
I’d keep playing the song, but it wouldn’t make me move

I learned the hard way all that glitters ain’t gold
some of those relationships took no time to get old
and some failed for reasons I cannot explain
they'd look different, sound different, or become a pain

I considered I was looking for something that didn’t exist
and projecting it on any pretty face with nice tits
I played mind and heart games to keep myself entertained
until karma caught up with me and my conscience complained

Still, happiness eluded me, though I was self-reformed
no store had my size, making me feel deformed
and when I got tired of walking around
barefoot on the uncomfortably cold, rocky ground
I stuffed my feet in some shoes made too small
gave me bunions, arch problems, and cramped both my soles

I still haven’t found that perfect love yet
but my vision’s not great, so there’s that, and that’s it.

©12.22.16 ebn

The sunshine's in my eyes

the sunshine's in my eyes
and i am colored in by love
a warm song bubbling up
from my depths
stretching the corners of my mouth
ever so gently
into a smile
jewels of thought glistening like morning dew
each sparkle, something of you
the effervescence of my entire life
stinging my nose
watering my eyes
as I laugh, crying
remembering and grateful
for having had the gift of sharing
the blessing of being, with you

e.12.22.16

Some pictures are worth a thousand words

Some pictures are worth a thousand words
While others leave us perplexed
And for the blind, music will do
The deaf who cannot see are vexed
Or blessed perhaps to know a thing
By how it feels, quite literally
Whose eyelashes and fine hairs sense life
Along with fingertips and toes and chi

And here I’m moved by words received
That the deaf cannot hear or believe
And provoked by looks the blind can’t see
Sometimes misled by how I feel

And focus on these foolish things
Rather than vistas and sunsets
And symphonies and words of love
As if I prefer to be upset

So from here on out, I’ll close my eyes
Except to see the beauty around me
And close my ears except to hear
The wondrous sounds that sing to me

Though what beauty can be appreciated
Without being exposed to some contrast
And what song can be heard as divine
Without listening to the wine of the past

Perhaps the pure heart needs nothing else
To enjoy each moment it lives
Discerning in everything the best
That graciously life gives

So whether blind, deaf, or both
I’ll cultivate my heart
To see and hear what makes worth while
The blessings of life’s art

©12.22.16 ebn

Nana

Like a busted balloon
I yelled every last tear of joy
Into God

The sunshine of my soul
Raked the sides of my face
And spilled out of my eyes
As I begged for her smile

Pulling at her dress
I knew where I came from
My whole world in her eyes
My purpose in her will
My life in her hands

e.12.17.2016

Iscariot

The day was still, the leaves didn't move
and the world gave me the cold shoulder
as we rode quietly in the back of a cab
to the clinic to cure love's hangover

With a stone in my stomach I opened the door
a gentleman, a madman, a fool
and delivered my lie with a heartbroken smile
to the white coats, the butchers, the tools

the glances, the silence, the clock in the hall
the moaning and groaning and scraping of walls
the trauma, the blanket, alone in a chair
the blood stain and steel; the thought left somewhere

the walk, and the hate, and the one I betrayed
the cold, and the loss, of a promise we named
on the cab ride back home, we arrived far apart
her loss, unfathomable; while I lost my heart

e.12.17.2016

Beneath the awkward rags

Beneath the awkward rags
That hang off the inner child
Like chains of convention
Fashionably disguised with labels
Magic spells
That not only fool the feeble minded
But us, too

Is a congested beauty
A soul with bloody fingernails
And a swollen heart
A child in a cave
Who only remembers the sun

And when they break
Through that cracked mask
Like the sweet song of a chick
Desperate to ruin their shell
Desperate to breathe

Their ugliness endears us
And our ugliness makes them beautiful

e.12.17.2016

Who cares about the dead

Who cares about the dead
Except for what they’ve left
A stain on the mind of the grieving

A sentimental color
That fades with time and weather
Hardly noticeable as we continue living

The phone is disconnected
No forwarding address
And their closet goes to goodwill or the trash

Their laughter gets forgotten
Their stories become rotten
And their memories are like faded photographs

Their faces lose their names
Their lives become the same
As the billions of others who passed away before

A droplet in the ocean
A grain upon a beach
A letter in a book not read anymore

Who cares about the dead but death
The living are preoccupied
With finding heaven here on earth
Before it’s their turn to die

e.12.17.2016