Skip to main content

New Beginnings

Here's to new beginnings/
Through the crimson/
Haze that soothed the trimmings/
Of a smoother living/
I'm moving swiftly/
Who could hit me/
Delusion grips these/
Stupid miscreants/
That choose to piss me/
Off with clueless slipping/
I won't lose my winnings/
No longer running in place/
Instead I hustle with grace/
Even if I stumble in faith/
For much of the day/
Nothing is safe when/
Trouble is sacred/
Punching the face is/
A loving display of/
Crumbling hatred/
My club is The Haven/
But I'm brushing the pavement/
With my love for the language/
That saved me from anguish/
Years ago when I sputtered and fainted/
When life punctured my safety/
Done with the aimless/
Nights in barstools/
Like the thought you/
Tried to harbor/
When time forgot you/
Your strife was all true/
But light dissolves fools/
That might alarm cruel/
Fate to spite a parched view/
I write to conquer/
My mic will arm you/
Try to start new/
And climb the scarred tomb/
Of your inner sanctum/
A sinner makes the/
Prison thank him/
For living anxious/
Simply gracious/
And dripping pain in/
The form of sweat/
Born in debt/
Existing thankless/
For tilling paydirt/
Just for change and/
I'm slipping payment/
Into the distant cradle/
You built to raise a/
Chilling fable/
Amidst simmering latent/
Filler slated/
To pierce a basement/
Hid in plain midst/
These insane mists/
Are warping minds/
Distorting lives/
And swarming my/
Cordial cries/
To hopeless lines/
Of shortened dire/
Souls that delight/
In forming sides/
I'm torn in size/
Splintered in half/
Picture a slap/
On the blistering back/
Of a rigorous wack/
Job hat doesn't dither in crap/
But lives for this knack/
God's given him that/
Leaves him itching to scrap/
Cause his lyrics/
Are pistols/
That leave him gifted and strapped/
Existing to rap/
Privy to lash/
Out with vengeance/
Slap a record/
On and stand with devilish/
Bastards repping/
A standard treachery/
Ask for reckless/
And bask in destined/
Clashes severing/
A nasty essence/
From the Master's bedroom/
Your dead soon/
And I meant to/
Respect you/
But the sense you/
Lack in measure/
Has left two/
Holes in that back of your head loose/
They beg to/
Not be passed, neglected/
But this bad impression/
Has infected/
My romantic senses/
So, clad and dressed in/
Black and pressing/
You, I laugh at your trembling/
Raise my hands and clench them/
My uncanny weapons/
Take drastic measures/
That have become natural methods/
Reach out on edges/
And grab my penance/

Popular posts from this blog

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years As my parole date looms and I prepare to muster out of the service that's cradled me the entirety of my adult life, I face the future with an uneasy trepidation coupled with my characteristic combative nature. I've heard every excuse, tempting me with bonuses and transparent promises regarding where I could live next, to tales of woe and agonizing regret, detailing the life of a miscreant that fleed from the Navy, expecting to flourish in the free world, no longer bound by the constraints of military life. Eager and cherry, they're invariably met with a crippling reality, sprinting head first into a shallow pool of filthy water barely concealing jagged, dangerous rocks and craters. I'll take my chances as I retake the reins of my life, though, even this far out, I know that my path will hardly be traditional, and will probably offend some traditionally and civically min

Outrunning The Reaper

Outrunning The Reaper The concept of aging intimidates me.  I wont say it scares me, because I feel that I've done the very best I can at retarding, delaying, and combatting it.  My training, which in the past prioritized hypertrophy and strength, misapplied in a hilariously misinformed fashion, has altered severely.  When I first got to Hawaii in 2017, I experimented with the idea of adopting EMOM (Every Minute On the Minute) training, a methodology I'd learned from studying Crossfit.  At that point I was doing 5 sets of Freestanding Handstand Pushups a day, with each set's repetitions decreasing incrimentally, following the Recon Ron Pullup Program.  It's available for free online, and a simple Google Image search will allow one to locate the entire workout.  I would sometimes do it twice a day, and before I stopped it, I was doing around 77 Handstand Pushups a session.  Back then I fancied myself a badass for completing such a "large" amount of volume in 1

Countertop

Haunting this countertop/ Wondering how could all/ This go bad and walk/ Away from us, the patterns caught/ On repetition in my life, absent thought/ A coward's plot/ To brandish false/ Hope and manage slots/ Left over from the branch that rots/ Away, the old adage copped/ As an excuse, wrath of God/ Plant your balk-/ -ing seeds and stand and walk/ Because you are my spectre/ And I'm stressing/ Out over the time left in/ Our dying ending/ The price mentioned/ Was too much, so I write, wept in/ Quiet, bet this/ Life's questions/ Won't answer why settling/ Down defied convention/ My best friend/ You'll soon fly, stretching/ Our hearts like vested/ Lives destined/ To find remnants/ Of each other in every girl or guy messed with/ And getting over you/ Is akin to choking booze/ Down and moping through/ My days, hopeless, nude/ Vulnerable, emotions bruised/ Soaked in blue/ Feelings, morose and gloom/ My heart poured into/ Every poem proof-/   -read at a bar, alone, enthus