Moon Sherbert: Poetry for the Dyslexic
Mixed Tape
Found my love in a mixed tape and hotel floor.
In a bar on the corner of Hudson with tears in my eyes.
Found my love underground on an independent label, on a subway car, on a slide hiding from the police.
Found him in crystal tears, next to a bar stool, wiping my eyes with a cocktail napkin.
Met my match in a Super 8.
Chewing spoons in his black neon for a five hour drive.
Saw his soul on the side of the Belt Parkway, going East, stuck in traffic, flat tire, and cloudy skies.
Discovered passion in Italian ice on a parking lot curb, late at night.
Found my love in a mixed tape and hotel floor.
Razor Blades and Rock Candy
Slit my wrists to the sound of crashing cars
to the hope of no tommorow
Found my beauty in the color red, in your poem about New Years Eve.
Had a dream i was uptown on 6th bathing in a fountain of urine and disease.
Taming a lion with three heads.
I cant escape. I cant breathe.
Control, Alt, Delete
Control, Alt, Delete
Control, Alt, Delete.
Panty Queen
Front seat friction, his kisses strong yet sweet.
Electronic applesauce sliding down my throat, my breast.
Fingers reading brail acrosss erect nipples.
Tonight is Amber, Ruby, Crimson love.
I can feel him fierce with in me, swimming in my belly.
He is cancer - break me down, take me down, let me in on your evil.
Get me off between two street lights and a place called home.
No more skipping stones.
This is real life lust - no movie scene.
I'm your panty queen.
Take me down.
NO ART
I'm no art
No large Odalisque
No ceramic figure
No boneless feet
No Titanium white
or Cobalt blue
No canvas princess
I'm no art.
Wax Lips
Theres a storm creeping in...on the rise
crawl through me with butterflies
Plastic words I'll take the blame
This useless spit is all my shame
Because I'm the one with wax lips
I'm the tongue that always slips.
Breaking the Language Barrier
I want to talk about poetry, art and the possibilities of a Jesus Christ.
I want you to understand symbolism, allusions, and conversational creationism
I want to play devils advocate on your subjectivism, be intrigued by your ideas, open you to mine.
I want to know your favorite color and reason to live.
Heal your chakras of apathy, argue the color black.
Share a daisy, a moment, the punishment of mortal confusion.
I wish you could understand these things, or at least be open so that we could get through them together.
No such thing as a lullaby
is this dead i ask myself
when two in the morning i am by myself not able to breathe.
and the night wont call me softly to its sky
I've heard profanity more sweet than this crashing silence.
and demons dance on my eyes and regret it fills my heart
maybe his words are the only beauty to which my soul claims grace
but grace enough i would swallow the thorns that rest upon my head
if only to claim the best of the worst in any situation.
Shame And Mortality Are The Only Things I Have To Offer
No Jesus Christ, just the love of my life
Adam gave Eve his rib.
You gave me your heart; and like Eve I gave you my sin.
That forever you shall be self conscious of the thought in your head.
And as for I the eternal damnation of mistrust.
Eve was a selfish greed filled bitch, and I fear the same.