odd.

(hello. i wonder if people really read this thing. i normally just post and get out of the way. but i wd like to talk to you. about how some of my poems come about. i love music so the writing process is almost synonmous to how a musician creates a new song. i write and write until something special happens. i have tons of "unreleased" babble that no one will ever see. they say that trees produce a massive amount of seeds each day, but only a few of them actually birth a new tree. i guess this is what the writing process is to me. this poem is called odd. because it is. well the birth of it was. i was ironing my shirt and the words were just... well you know how you want to throw up and all the contents rush up to the brim of your mouth. well yeah, this is what this felt like. i am writing a 100 page poem called "something called free" which depicts love. (thats so muhfuggin cliche muhfugga) the travels. the destinations. the pitstops. the delays. the early arrival of. the departure of. told through a voice of a young man who is madly in love with a woman who he is convinced he will marry and have tons of babies with. he has only kissed her once. how does that young man feel when "the love of his life" aint really thinking like that? does he shake her? hypnotize her? drug her? haha. alls fair... but anyway, when i finish that, God willin, you all can read it someday. something called free!!! 3 people have read the beginning and 2 thought it was weird as fck. lol. anywho, this piece is an excerpt of "something called free". no real people were harmed in this production. thanks for reading, chidi)


...in the pursuit of perfection
i signed my will
and packaged it to sell to the highest bidder
but no one came to the auction.
it was just me and..
i stand on this soapbox
and read my decisions like edicts created
just before love became malleable
and learned to slip out of bare hands.
i was a
child who was afraid of such magic tricks
so i hid under her dress
and wiped my tears with her fabric
it was so warm there that i invented
reasons to stay hidden there.
i wrote my name like graffiti
inside her thighs
with sweet smelling
permanent ink
but somehow her skin learned the loop holes
and i have been paying for it
ever since.
grant me the right to
accept.
because something feels...
almost like...
this could be the end
dd.
d.

but i am stuck on the introduction
i wanna retell her name
and correct her when she says it wrong
tell her my goals so she knows i
have constructed a path.
but ill tell her im flexible
so she knows she can enter my world
with no shoes on.
i'll tell her i have swept away the glass under the carpet
and im ready to love her again...