Jazzy

I was watching a stupid commercial this morning. Something involving going to school and making dresses and it reminded me of this old ass thing I wrote for a class in 2006 or so. It was a creative writing class and I wrote it to the changes in the song. We had to do a read aloud and it went over really well. I remember it being terrifying though. I had played guitar for people before but I’d never read anything I’d written in a public setting. In a way it kind of broke the ice on me being afraid of putting anything artistic forward. I’m still working on that but I’m getting there. It’s not that I’m shy either, introverted but not timid.

I started the song and then started reading…if you do it right it works with the transitions in the song though.

Victimized reality ties

breeds the sympathized,

as reality dies the insides of faith complies

with flies derived from unconscious reprise

the stupidity where you set your eyes

and Nothing deny’s

how your thoughts comprise

of dowries, cowardice and stale goodbyes.

The mind retakes what once forsaked

to heal the break on pitys sake.

In absense of drapes

to hide soiled plates

you reinvent stakes

when its easier to live with fakes

than to see what fate makes.

 

And all I see is sun cutting just under your brow,

summer hat, dark dress shaved short,

skin vibrant, smooth, and hot

lips so red, eyes sunk deep,

watching me with passions dred.

Barefoot and unhooked,

every stride firm, intention sultry-perfect,

unblinking wet-thinking im sinking through drinking your body feeling

what mingling of tinglings you wish to inflect,

time reaching the peaking of no need to reflect.

To what course may there be remorse?

The force of your source bending back the ice,

forget beating the dead horse, my mind is now

the future present is how,

I might enter this temple if only to bow.

Crossed and lost by this point frost is tossed

excuses, abuses forgotten and bled

you are mine and i am yours, lets make love instead

 

 

Looking back I laugh at myself for trying a beat poet style in a creative writing class but I still like it. Thinking about it made me feel better about writing today. Remembering how hard something was for me back then and how easy that is for me now puts my worries in their place, which is away from my brain.