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c verse matsu symphony poem

these days that information you run across

and how it trots into your thoughts

sorrow to expending doom

all highlighted in the world wide news

displayed in hi resolution

when it kind of shuts off the imagination

and i stop wondering

just filling in

my future reel film shots

with - honestly not a lot

but dark scenes

doubtful thoughts like in a strange dream

it’s as though my mind had become a factory

manufacturing nothing but pop hits out of key

dreary and dark

dulling the moment and extinguish the emerald spark

that usually pulses in my chest

the chamber that is loaded of excitement resting in the nest

to launch forward and fly

as my imagination is dryer than desert dry

and sometimes i can’t get out of that trap

and then i start looking back in regret

and start remembering what i did forget

until i realize it’s time to shock bolt my mind

like after college i couldn’t find my bumper shine

so i went to poetry mountain

where i could do some reflicting

and shuffling

dancing to a wide view

that cleared at the attic into

a place where the sunlight peaks in

shines a melody of an artist expression

that spark pugs my imagination

into a rolling rain

where i unite with my creature friends

to open up the freeway again

exchanging that information

that is full of expressive nutrition

to allow the inward sight

to open its cannons and take in the ammunition to catapult me into flight

back to when i was just chillin

on the corner and i was willin

to slit a verse into the wind

as homegirl listened in

and the music did begin

to crank its amplifiers

above the traffic static wires

as she joined in

a harmony composed by wind

that said to begin again

after the clearing of the attic

to bending the city night static

into harmonic bars

on the avenue cruising beneath the stars

with a eight flow map of kicking beat bars

that are foundation

to the flight of the animation

in the verse

not cages invading your words

so when you eat something rotten

like all that youtube you be eatin

take a walk in that poetic grove

until the street traffic has cleared and the stars flow

than kick a rhyme into the wind so you know

all is rest back to the river flow

in this noisy city of drama

this internet highway of noisy data

sirens blaring on your cellular phone

as music was meant to sing lullabies from this poets bones

as i spread the color over the damp rainy morning

look into the sky without worry or warning

pull my hoody over my sky dome

finish this verse

about when i will head home

past the naysayers

to the ones confused in prayer

to my kaleidoscope strut

i walk just to say what’s up

not the sky

it’s a dialogue between you and i

give me some of your flavor in the language lullaby

tell me where your headed

and how you become

i’ll share with you a passage

of how my day begun

i saw the sunrise in the beauty of a blackbirds eyes

i hanged with a willow tree

sang to it every last words of my poetry

and then pushed the eyeliner row boat into the sea

had a change being sung to me

in a way never before

as i opened the boarding door

and welcomed her aboard

as she dashed into the chamber chains

and i went to dance in the rain

like i’ve always done

before the rising of the sun

when i shade in my silhouette

into the shadow that is illuminating my cherry chest

where sweetness remains

even after the gutters flooded of ceremonial rain

think as the morning fog

magenta carmine sand rusty wheel of a clog

spinning into the tunnel of the waves

it was a delightful beginning of my day

here’s some scrap paper i painted into a memory

i smeared the edges so it appears pleasantly

like a kite in the winter sky

flying not stretched to what went bye bye

because the wind sang a lullaby so sweet

it came floating gently up the stream

to a brook i used to stop by

on the way from period five

middle school when i was a crane

didn’t learned much but lifted the sugar cane

our if my backpack

shared with the tool shed mouses and roadhouse cats

then i would hoard my skateboard pirate ship

take a seward chanty from its original script

and compose a salty symphony

spicy and full of flavor

a melody

to celebrate and savor

as it is swallowed in your listening

digested into your way of living

a remedy

of spirit poem and song

chanted and cheered into the way all rolls along

in the movement of the mighty river

the veins that remember the day the sky cried

and how all was grey and dried

and information had been spilled

upon the foundation i did build

when i was singing in the back of the class

told to be quiet as i laughed

got thrown home

as i picked up my rippling rhino trombone

blew a symphony melody

that got me in good company

enjoying creating art

connecting fabulously to and from the heart

and soothing the steam rising into the joyous evening

where i be streaming

and shouting out joy

that i am on vacation and employed

because i am right right now dancing

loving what i do

exchanging art with you

centered around what i expressed from inside me

to the way i’ve always wanted socializing to be

not the side car bumper

yelling at the traffic bummer

waiting in long check out lines

mumbling drama to kill the time

as i shout out

can’t we all just get along

as i know only if we relate through poem and song

those original exchange of words

that go deeper than the daily gossip dirt

to the fresh costs of paint

the original colors we all got

which is worth a lot

amongst the traffic information headlines

the non-direct exchange of bummed out times

to the kicking of the creature locomotive

where i be giving it back to all in the way i spoke this

like a rally cry

to get up stand up and stretch those wings

get ready to fly

let go of the garbled talk

and let’s rock

as i take the paint brush and stoke the fire

let the river roll through on guitar amplifiers

lay down a funkafied verse

into the newscasters words

and blast over the loud speaker

creating together is our worth

the sum of this poem

as i be knowing

it will continue on

in motion in exchange

in song

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1 комментарий

Joe Rey
Joe Rey
31 янв. 2022 г.

Brilliant and Beautiful Word-smithing indeed IPC! Glad you are here to share Your art as a POPOLOGIST® With Us!

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