sonnet 21
“today was the day i put down my pen…
always said i would when my words meant less…
and now that that’s known it’s time that i end…
using my brain to come up with this mess…
using my heart to express how i feel…
‘cause apparently it’s fuck what i say…
my words are ignored, even when i kneel…
so i’ve decided on another way…
i’m done with talking from down on my knees…
and begging for things outside of my reach…
i’m cursing metaphors and similes…
all other types of figurative speech…
fuck all that shit, my pen’s been retired…
no more thoughts; i’m no longer inspired…”
sonnet 22
“i think about her when it’s dark and cold…
and the fall wind blows at the window pane…
when i’m all alone with no one to hold…
solitude threatens to drive me insane…
the thought of another sleep without her…
knowing where she is isn’t in my bed…
my fear attempts to label me “doubter”…
on whether she’d rather be here instead…
i call out her name in the blackened night…
and it echoes against my bedroom wall…
shining stars appear as the only light…
illuminating my tears as they fall…
i die inside, outside of my own heart…
as an actor playing a lover’s part…”
sonnet 23
“i watch a goddess in a beaded gown…
grip marble rails as she descends each stair…
her eyes and her skin; a contrast in brown…
with more in strands highlighting darker hair…
dress’s so bright it's vibrantly alive…
red; it matches her passionate spirit…
i'm wanting; thus i’ll continually strive…
to do the things i can to be near it…
ring on one hand, bracelet off the other…
but diamonds on both prove the perfect touch…
moving forward, one step then another…
she’s a sight my eyes deem almost too much…
god’s own brushstroke on a painting of “fine”…
a beauty in scarlet; forever mine…”
sonnet 24
“this is me writing about love in rap…
well maybe not love, but the clichéd themes…
where thoughts of cash and boners overlap…
and life with strippers is a life of dreams…
what can be dumber than making it rain;
or someone willing to participate?
throwing away money so hard to gain…
i rather make women precipitate…
the panty’s wet because the pussy floods…
every time it’s a natural disaster…
and with my slightest touch her flower buds…
a green thumb and planting fingers master…
did that line refer to one that does dirt;
a gardener who’d rather make girls squirt?”
sonnet 25
““i love because i don’t know how not to…”
penned that line an eternity ago…
i often wonder if they’re still as true…
sometimes i feel i’ll never really know…
the problem’s my heart’s loves seem one-sided…
and it can’t turn off feelings that it felt…
so i spill my guts through thoughts confided…
hoping my words will make frozen hearts melt…
voltaire wrote that “hell is for loveless hearts”…
a loving one deserves a better fate…
hades isn’t where the suffering starts…
i’m tortured now, living in such a state…
i love because loving’s what makes up i…
surely i’ll know heaven before i die…”
sonnet 26
“sometimes i think that she’s waiting for me…
‘stead of moving on to another guy…
turn potential into what i should be…
and achieve a greatness before i die…
she longs for the riches, accolades, fame…
a future i’ve become a man of wealth…
where folks around the world’ll know my name…
and see me but dismiss i’m not myself…
at the side of a man of great repute…
when she’ll hold my hand, proud that she is there…
her barren tree had finally grown fruit…
apples, bananas; they’d be quite the pair…
sometimes i think she waits for that one day…
me being kinetic gets her to stay…”
sonnet 27
“she’s talking to me but my mind’s elsewhere…
well it’s there, just not on what she’s saying…
i wonder what'd happen if i were there…
and she understood i wasn’t playing…
times i tell her i love her it’s echoed…
like i’m expressing my thoughts in a cave…
she doesn’t really hear the words bestowed…
maybe she would if we planned a conclave…
where she actually sees me bare my soul…
as my feelings for her escape my lips…
“j’adore’s” deemed merely a phrase take a toll…
on even casual relationships…
could she see then the truth in what i speak?
saying "i love her"; in my heart, a peek…”
sonnet 28
“i’ve loved a woman a couple of times…
and a couple of times she loved me back…
sometimes for creating poetic rhymes…
sometimes for something i have others lack…
to some i had a face that attracted…
others probably intrigued by my brain…
those who found joy when we interacted…
a few for reasons that i deemed inane…
but when i loved it was with all my heart…
even when the words i used then failed me…
and couldn’t keep us from being apart…
the times trivial nothings derailed “we”…
i’ve loved and been loved, in life once or twice…
living without love is too harsh a price…”
sonnet 29
“the man behind these eyes, behind the pen…
captivates the readers with his phrasing…
his wordplay moves their imagination…
why an audience finds him amazing…
not normal; i suffer no illusions…
the thoughts in my head offer much insight…
my mind harbors grandeur in delusions…
what i write takes the dark out of the light…
what i write takes the love out of the hate…
dark and love; my brain and heart contradict…
they argue every time they conversate…
and end with my cerebrum getting dicked…
i’m a little crazy, my psyche’s pawn…
which means my words will echo when i’m gone…”
sonnet 30
““tick, tick, tick”; time counts down my life to nil…
the sands in my hourglass have decreased…
but i’m going to keep living until…
i no longer breathe because i’m deceased…
so as for living, the truth is in me…
act like this life’s the only one you get…
and since it won’t last indefinitely…
here is some advice i’ll never forget…
don’t behave like i have plenty of time…
didn’t tell one i loved her; walked away…
sure my heart wore a mask during the crime…
‘cause i robbed myself of passion that day…
learned lesson the hard way; an orange jumpsuit…
to say things now; death’s the ultimate mute…”
No comments:
Post a Comment