nondescript

the milk has spoiled.
the ham is bad.
the bread is moldy.
the soda's flat.

the charge is deadened.
the screen is cracked.
the circuit's shorting.
the cord has snapped.

the button fell off.
the liner's ripped.
the fabric's fading.
the stitch is stripped.

the button's sticky.
the service died.
the flip ain't flipping.
the screen won't slide.

the lens is chipped off.
the bottom rusted.
the strap is strained brown.
the side's encrusted.

the letter's jumbled.
the crispness left.
the angle's crooked.
the color's bereft.

the point has dulled down.
the grip has slipped.
the use is gone now.
you're nondescript.

I'd Make Shakespeare Weep

I could write you a poem
Because I think I understand love.
I could sing you a song
To tell of things I’m not proud of.

I’d make Shakespeare weep
If I could capture your essence on paper.
I’d make Mozart cry out.
No music could ever be greater.

But I can’t really write well.
Hell, I can hardly read.
I don’t have the rhythm
I can’t seem to succeed.

I could give you a dozen flowers.
My heart scooped out of my chest.
I could tell of when I fell
In a note with all expressed.

But I haven’t got the money.
And I haven’t got the guts.
You would simply laugh at me.
It isn’t worth the fuss.

But then you walk right past me.
My breath is gone once more.
I don’t know that I’ll catch it.
I don’t want the cure.

You deserve a real man.
Not a boy like me.
You deserve your ever after.
I know that you’d agree.

But don’t I deserve love as well?
Aren’t I human too?
I’ll just wait for tomorrow.
Maybe then I’ll break through.

Ode to Pineapple

My sweet fruit,
You once were so kind.
Your very essence was
Heaven  aligned.


Your taste tickled my buds
And pleased my lips.
Your texture treated my tongue
Until your juice wouldn't drip.


Now you look with vengeance.
I hate your being.
Your gustation turned sour.
From you, I am fleeing.


Away from my family,
You tore me with malice.
I wish that I could believe
You maybe won't fail us.


But I know the truth,
I know your evil.
You poisoned my body,
And caused an upheaval.


I'll stay away from you,
If you let me be
I'd rather be healthy,
Than totally free.




I miss you, sweet fruit.

The Phone Call

Hey Babe,
I'm running late, I won't be home till seven.
I'll get dinner on my way.


Is everything ok?
You sound like you were crying?
What happened? Who did this?


I'm coming home right now.

The Fading Essence

His voice no longer captures people's thoughts.
They've forgotten the truth he once held.
His actions cease to captivate their minds.

The past has tainted the masses.

The significance of his essence is fading.
The sardonic pleasure falling from his lips will forever remind us that nobody is invincible.
Nobody can survive.


Her smile no longer sparks true happiness.
They've learnt that it was forced.
Her laughter is full of emptiness
That can no longer full people to hope.
The significance of her essence is fading.
The detachment from her body will forever haunt those that necessitated her foundation most desperately.
Nobody can survive.


His hands have lost the magic that once inspired.
They've figured out his tricks.
Eloquence no longer holds any influence.
Words are merely words. No more, maybe less.
The significance of his essence is fading
Ignorance was bliss for the few without it and the power to maintain the illusions.
Not even they can survive.


Wonder and mystique long forgotten how to impose appeal.
They've decided they'd rather grow up.
Equations and arbitrary limitations must be put forth.
Nothing can exist without rules.
The significance of their essence is fading.
The progression of arrogance has led to the fountain of youth that dried decades ago.
Who would want to survive?

Superficiality

Superficiality is catching like the flu.
There's no vaccine, no cure, no hope.
You're goin' to catch it too.


Superficiality is sweeping like a flood.
The past is dead. The present's hell.
The future's full of blood.


Superficiality is consuming all the truth.
The credit's gone. The meaning's bleak.
No innocence in youth.


Superficiality is corrupting from the core.
It starts too slow, no way to know;
No symptoms to look for.


Superficiality will one day surely die.
But only if people admit
They much prefer the lie.