an enchanting deadly colorful pathway

let me lead you down this dilapidated road;
a path where onlookers will gawk in awe;
stare with impunity;
gaze in amazement;
fixated on the beauty;
fascinated by the mystery.

irises begin melting like a Dali;
blues, browns, greens, begin coating
the floor, now moonlighting as a canvas.

your fire is creating a masterpiece,
doused with death and bewilderment,
underlined by sexual deviancy,
captured with unadulterated hedonism.

hold my hand; walk with me;
let’s scorch the admiration of others;
saturate our world with their sins;
it’s all ours; come, follow me.

-JDR- a.k.a. ‘former co-King of heaven’

strands of synchronization

she was French American
American French;
either way, she spoke both languages.

she was a synchronized swimmer.
she was a French Playboy model.
she was a first-class spinner,
fitted with a spectacular throttle.

i was enamored; giddy; anxious; 99% blinded.
her touch calmed my chronic muscle spasms,
while simultaneously causing a different spasm.
splash…double take…triple take…rubbing my eyes.

yup, she was French alright…
i just couldn’t take those hairy armpits.
damn the 1%!

turn the cheek, piety, poor

“I won’t turn the other cheek.
I want you to see the bruise you created.
I won’t turn the other cheek.
I want you to see the bones you cannot break.
I won’t turn the other cheek.
I want you to know that i cannot be broken.
I won’t turn the other cheek.
I want you to understand that you are a person…just like me.”

“Jesus said that the meek shall inherit the earth.
I see the meek getting earth jammed down their throats.”

“i’d rather die a poor man with a clean conscious,
than a rich man without one.”



our lives can be defined in chapters, some call them seasons;
they’ll end abruptly; last too long; both for various reasons.

people we’d soon forget about may define these moments;
some left us too early; we’ll mourn over those moments.

self-evaluate as often as necessary;
other’s evaluating you is unnecessary.

not sure why I torture myself by putting this cologne on
the scent,
reminds me of every intimate,
moment with you, my bad bish.

T.urn the page.
put the book down.
stop editing.
start anew.
B.egin creating.

i should stop preaching these words all in my head.
i should start living these words all in my head.
problem is,
your scent is all in my bed, and thus, i’ll be forever
stuck in my head … while laying in this bed.

my ode to you, my true

after all this time,
i’m still shedding tears in your name;
crying all the same;
it’s truly a shame.

i wake up every morning with doubt.
i fall asleep every night in doubt.
what’s this all about…
all about?

i have to stay strong,
but only for so long;
no, i need to stay strong,
so i can finish this song.

why did you fall in love with me,
couldn’t you see you didn’t belong with me?
that, i was a junkie …
and crazy,
and that’s all i let you see.

i see why you left me;
who can blame you?
i’m a beast
when I take a sip,
then a bump.
fuck, don’t worry;
i wouldn’t let you get back with me.