JAY IS DRAMATIC

Ugh

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 15:01:00 +0000

Have all these spam comments and I dont know how to delete them..this sucks..I bumped up security though...I hate spammers...

Life to Poetry

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 21:55:00 +0000

I stared at her
and with 5 minutes to say goodbye
I looked at her eyes and
said I love with you with tears
With 4 minutes left
I caressed her cheek
and created art when we touched
3 minutes left
whispered a poem in her ear
27 words
129 syllablles
2 people
1 heart
2 minutes left
Made her smile
the smile you only see
at weddings
birthdays
and now
1 minute left
and so I stood there
quiet
hoping I could stop time
no time left
clock strikes zero

that was the day she died in my arms....

So....

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 18:16:00 +0000

I definitely have been slacking....

yea....

carry on...

Therapy

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 14:32:00 +0000

I need to find me..so I'll just keep writing...you guys let me know when I start making sense again....

spilling on the streets
as if hearts were paintbrushes
michaelangelo of sexuality
canvassed under dreams
of what pleasure smells like
blinded, by the glow of distrust
abused children
orphaned by success
unfinished poems
completed chapters
the color of pain

Journey

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 14:24:00 +0000

It has been 1 month, 2 weeks, 6 days...

but I never left...

subconscious thoughts
unconscious emotion
devotion
to what some call..Now
you can spend your whole life
walking away
until the day
you walk into yourself
I am
A dreamer
A believer
an artist
A heartbreaker
for many these r all different
for me
they were born as twins
for a dreamer
must believe
that through heartbreak
there lies art
and an artist
must dream
seeing heartbreak
and taking from it belief
I believe
that my broken hearts
and the hearts Ive broken
are all art
encompassed by a dream
driven by my journey
to one day walk into myself

Writing....

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Tue, 19 May 2009 02:22:00 +0000

I fuck with words
and make baby poetry
that grows into the elders
that pass on the knowledge
you thirst for

I write books
with no covers
so that you
have to read
the pages
to judge me

I finger paint
with my soul
creating rainbows
that make the blind
need sunglasses

I write backwards
myself express to
so that society
understands me

And I'm alive
to create the change
I've just created
in your life

...your just not ready yet

1080pPlasmaHDDVDBluRayLIFE

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Thu, 14 May 2009 19:24:00 +0000

Blinded by screens in life
hoping for that remote control
doing 1080 360's
you'll never understand me
because my life has a
high definition
a depiction
of greatness
record my thoughts
rewind my life
and let the sound
surround you
this...
is real
press play.

Contemplation

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 06 May 2009 03:29:00 +0000

I attempted to write poetry today
I sat there endlessly
but no words came to mind
finally I gave up
realizing
The time
was poetry
in itself

You would have liked him (Draft)

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 15:58:00 +0000

Pour more drinks
Stay late..I have something to tell you

I, am a statistic
actually..many statistics
born and raised as a child
of the ones that gave birth to
the ones that gave birth to me
I grew up..the grandchild
Mother alienated from the world
due to cocktails of alcohol and sexual frustration
I...was just a victim
At a very young age
I decided that statistics
would be fought with questions
So I asked
I asked questions to try to define..
who I was....

Tell me about my father
at age 6...
"He was Irish, great with cars
you would have liked him"

at 10...
"he was in the war..a veteran
you would have liked him"

at 12...
"I don't recall exactly...but
you would have liked him"

See, it seemed that my father was
a changing variable
but no matter who I asked in my family
the constant was.. that.. I ...would have liked him

but, I take a step back
and ask myself how I could like
someone who never took the time to like me
A man, no more familiar to me
then the man across from me on the train
(Dad...is that you?....)

I often rehearsed first meetings
as if I..as a child..had something to prove
I read books about cars and war
convincing myself that by doing so
I could say "I...am... just like my father"
I grew up hating my mother
convinced that she...
was the reason I never met him
When asked if it bothered me
I would shrug and move on
cause at a very young age
I..put a wall up
and this wall was graffitied
with the heartache, pain and confusion
that he gave me
it was built of nameless bricks
stuck together with lies
and I often envy those children
who had dads
who walked on them at a early age
cause my dad...
beat them to the punch
doesnt know my name
doesnt know my eyes r green
doesnt know the excitement I get
when I put pen to paper
creating stories
in worlds
that didnt exist until I made them
doesnt know that
I am a talented
I am smart
doesnt know
that at 17 I put blade to wrist
hoping that the trail of blood
would lead to answers
doesnt know that I survived that attempt
only to try 2 more times
doesnt know that I survived
doesnt know that
I graduated high school
breezed through college
and about to get my masters
never taught me about the heartache
girls could bring

never said hello
never held me after being born
never did shit....

and though I thank my grandfather
for taking on this role
and never making me feel alone in this world
Dad..it was your job...
your job to clear up the confusion
close the gaps
and destroy the statistic
but you didnt
and I kept asking....

so at 18..I asked
"Well, we all think maybe your mom was raped...
you wouldnt have liked him"

See at 18 I asked and suddenly
I was old enough to know the truth
That at age 16 my mom bar-tended
and was first introduced to the
catalyst that would destroy her life
and severely cripple mine

at 16 she she skipped school
and gave up on life
and started a downward spiral
at 16...she fought confusion
and lost
at 16...she.... may have been raped
by her boss...at the bar...
and as I sat there now seeing
that the answers only made me more of
a statistic
I thought about him
the man I spent my whole life
hoping to impress
hating..loving...
missing without knowing
reaching out to...
the man..that I often wondered
If I resembled
I thought about him...
and
that night..in the bar...
telling my mother...

Pour more drinks
Stay late..I have something to tell you

"You would have liked him...."

I Hate you....

Luvequity

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 06:42:00 +0000

The only way you would make cents
is if the truth were dollars
I stand here waiting for change
suffering from loves recession
2 more tear drops
to create a depression
so I stand here on that bread line
hoping you give me more then a portion
even as I ration your rational
I find myself hungry for more
with every gain I see a loss
with every loss I see the future
is it a fools investment
or just a long term struggle
all I know is that without you
my assets are negative
trying to produce a future
trying to create love
but seem to lack the capital
I could hedge my bets
but all I want I want is this
us.....now
A penny for your thoughts
a nickel for your kiss
my heart if you take time to read this

My Hearts Map, My Souls Compass

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 00:38:00 +0000

I lost you
in order to find myself
now I'm losing myself
trying to find you

a realization
that while
I was losing
and gaining
you
and I

I should have been
looking for us....

Now I travel
my soul
searching
for the definition
of love
of us
of the future

Sometimes the world seems flat....

When your not aRound.....

My 2 second poem

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 20:01:00 +0000

I would have to be made of braille
for to feel me

Feel me?

I [right]

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 03:39:00 +0000

I right
cause sometimes
sound is not enough

I right
cause sometimes
I want u to read my soul

I right
cause sometimes
the ink saves my life

I right
cause sometimes
the pain leaves me mute

I right
cause sometimes
I need to see my feelings

I right
cause sometimes
I want to save my thoughts

I right
cause sometimes
you cant fuckin hear me

I right
cause sometimes
the shit I say
flows over your
fucking head
cause your too
into the world
2 inches past
your nose
to realize
I write
to create
your
existence
in
poetry

I write
cause sometimes
writing
is the only thing
that explains

why I left...

Throwback #3

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 05:01:00 +0000

Spoken word piece performed at SUNY New Paltz TAKE BACK THE NIGHT 2006
The event is against rape and violence against women. It is written to be performed, not read.

The Night

Night no longer means just the absence of light
Now night means fear, anguish and fright
Little boy growing up not knowing that’s right
A soul with a conscience
That now has took flight
No matter what you hear no matter what you’ve heard
Please, take this time and listen to my words…

She lies there in a pool of her own blood
Trying to piece together the last few seconds of a life
That until 5 minutes ago was average
This is the story of that night…

Pulled into an alley
by a shadow
by a presence
by a monster
by a person
Unknown to her
She screams
but her screams are drowned
by her mouths contact with the puddle on the floor
She screams..no more…no more…
Then he puts his hand up her skirt,
whispers this wont hurt
And continues to blurt the rapist flirt
It all happened so fast, she still can’t comprehend
Or mend together whether her depiction
Was fact or fiction
Few things she knew were true
He smelled of cheap liquor,
and his beard
Scratched her face,
as he fucked a licked her
His few words
left no room for an accent
A soul being stolen in the dead of the night
She fights back,
but is to weak for the fight
A strong will to survive,
less with each strike
This is not love,
this is not even like
This man, no not man, this monster
Held her purity in his hand
and crushed it like an egg
Violating the sanctity of the area between her legs
She was never religious,
but she prayed to god
Not THE god- A god- ANY god,
that would spare her life and make this end
This savage ravished this woman
as she choked on tears blood and dirt
All of which covered her shirt
As she let out her final cries,
he finished and left her there to die
So I stand here, and ask …why?

Now this story is fiction, but it could be true
As a matter of fact it could of happened to you
You can change the story,
the people and the place..
but rape by any definition is still rape
Crime is crime,
hate is hate..
and taking action tomorrow
may be to late
It could be a total stranger,
father, brother, grandfather, friend or significant other..
So stand now, and take a new height...
with power as your engine, your strength will ignite
A new birth of a day
When there’s an absence of light…
the darkness now seeming so bright
And a few words just for you to recite,
fear is an illusion in the twilight
A new day is born...so please...take back the night

Late night team piece

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 05:48:00 +0000

Late Night Word Scrunch

people can never understand your uniqueness
Weird as it sounds
weird as it seems
my head can't seem to let go..of you
beautiful, yes your beauty is a dream
so I sleep, hoping to see you
you make me wanna be different
a better me, with you..a better us
imagination running wild
as if my love knows no restraint
you stimulate my senses
senseless when you make my heart beat
with an existence even my eyes cant comprehend
Our math..equaling infinity
Our chemistry a kaleidoscope of perfection
Our recess..an endless game of tag..your it
with a persona, as if the world is yours
with a reality, where it is
rubber band hand..you hold me together
without you, theres no point
I will never relinquish this love
As crazy as it sounds
As scary as it is
You teach me how to be me
strong, happy, vulnerable, driven
words can never truly define your story
or the solitude I feel without you
Call me crazy, call me hopeless
Call it lust, or infatuation of the soul
Call this impossible, call it a dream
Call it puppy love, call me smitten
But to me...I call it...
Love
Life
Perfection
You....
I love you

Throwback #2

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 00:30:00 +0000

hmmmm.........

SNEAKERS

If She was a pair of sneakers/she'd be a pair of chucks/Neva going out of style/cause shes wassup/She'd be a pair of ups/Crispy whites to be exact/you know the ones that glisten and glow and seem to take over the rack/she'd be a pair of adidas/classic in the making/ unbelievable style never mistaken for fakin /but not that regular type..she'd be a shelltop/so round..and curvy…and..smooth/she'd be LA lights/cause little kids love her/I look in her eyes and see her as a mother/if she was a pair of sneakers/ our love would never get creased or cracked/I would keep her laced/ not held down by straps/I would love her in red, and white and brown and black/ and if any dude stepped on her he definitely get smacked/she'd be a pair of jordans/damn I know I can't afford em/but I'll save everyday/cause damn she's so important/she'd be pf flyers/cause I desire/to be admired/and aspire/to embody that old school fire/ / but if she was a pair of sneakers/she'd be to cool for all the commercial ones mentioned/and in that case/she'd probably be penguins/and her creative recreation would be a superior creation/ and cause my mind to desire a closer relation/ She'd be a hip hop rock rap DC skateboard flipping tripping pair of kicks/ New York City ALife chick/she'd be a tough stare back airmax/don't care what you sed keds/smart ass hell, she'd be a true talent new balance/she rock reebok/not listen to rumors pumas/not phoney sauconys /neva have to ask who jays with/ cause you know how I wear my k swiss/if she was a pair of sneakers/I would make love til her low top turned to high top and fluctuated down to mid/I would touch her old school/make her feel new school/I would run my laces through her holes/not missing a flow/do it straight a cross, then zig zag, let it hang out a little, then pull em back/but I aint gonna choke em, unless she like it rough/I'll pull on her laces and yank on her tongue/and when I'm done/I'd put her back in the box to preserve the leather/cause if she was a pair of sneakers, she'd be my only pair, my favorite pair…ever….

I sip coffee and realize...

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 18:35:00 +0000

BUSH

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 06:08:00 +0000

HAHAHAA...wow...New Paltz days...if you were around back then and witnessed me perform this piece..I apologize...hahaha..part 2 of this poem gets political..but for now well stick to part one..so without further ado...I present...from April 11th, 2006...I LOVE BUSH! (my apologies again beforehand....)

I LOVE BUSH!
The area of the female anatomy that magically hypnotizes me
Her femininity screams of sexuality as the vertex of her legs calls my name!
JAY JAY JAY!
My metallic membrane mesmerized and magnetized by her
Mesmerizing and magnetic muffin
Yes I sed it – mesmerizing and magnetic muffin!
Her proportions proportional to the eyes expectation of perfection
But all that does not matter because when she opens up
It is a 3 piece platter, with all the trimmings
And no need for a doggy bag
Because as a young lad..

I LEARNED- HOW- TO- PLAY- IN- THE- BUSHES

And

I LEARNED- HOW- TO- PLAY- WITH- A- BOX

So clear all your appointments and shut off your clock
No need to behave
no need to be a shaver
Because I asked for a woman, not a second grader
Just keep it trimmed, no disrespect to those who pave it
I’m a bush man though, and I don’t mean a native
Out and in again, S&M, R&R near and far
Is where – I – will- go –to- go- to- that- low- flowing- home- of – holiness

HOLY SHIT!

I flip when I think of that clit- or- us- us –us
WE is all we need between the sheets when we creep
I am not discreet
Of my love for that place let me pace myself for a second…(breathe)
I LOVE BUSH!
Metrosexual, heterosexual
Intellectually sexually making you reach points of intensity
Maker her climax totally, cause when she sez
“DO THAT THING WITH YOUR TONGUE”
She does not mean poetry, she means GO IN ME!
And make her wet, cause bushes need moisture to survive, and I thrive
To be labeled THE GARDENER
AND- YOU- WILL- NOT- BE- WALKING- TOMORROW
Because it is your soul I will borrow
And make you feel free
So leave your body to me
and you will see
I LOVE BUSH!

Retracing my steps

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 06:07:00 +0000

So I'm trying to grab all the poems I've written since 2005/06-ish..I'm looking through emails. this blog, folders, hard drives..kinda fun..I'm up to 81 poems....didn't know I had that many...anyways..I'm gonna post old ones at times..for fun..starting today....

KH

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 04:25:00 +0000

So I was search for a cool Keith Haring Tshirt for the summer...and figured I'd just post this cause its cool

Keith Haring (1958-1990)

The Keith Haring Foundation was established in 1989 to assist AIDS-related and children's charities, and maintains the largest resource of archives on the late artist, Keith Haring.

Haring's bold lines and active figures carry poignant messages of vitality and unity. His legacy made an impact on late 20th century art and grants us all a vision for the future.

Confession of a Capulet

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 03:38:00 +0000

Sometimes your words
and actions
seem to disagree
as if your thoughts
are translating
into words
of a foreign
language

Yet I read on...
stimulated
by the fact
that every word
seems familiar
every action
seems important

As if
you are
the prologue
to the story
of my life

We are
forbidden...
hidden
are the
realities
that
define us

You, My Juliet
I, your Romeo
The world...
our tragedy
this life
my legacy
Us...
My obsession

I can write
a hundred
words
in a million
languages
with infinite
meanings
all translated
to say
"I Love you"

P.S.

"I Need you"

P.S.S.

"I can't live without you"

but
when I look
for a response
all I get
are blank pages
no words
no definitions
no translations

So I close
my eyes
and dream
of your words
your confessions

"I love you,
but...
the world
and trust
keeps us
apart
I,
dream of you
miss you
want you
need you
please..
dont leave
my heart"

-Love Juliet

Is it through
life that
I am
doomed
to chase you...

So that in
Death
Our love
can live?

If so
let it be
I rather
die today
then live
tomorrow
without
my soul....

" But soft!
What light through
yonder window breaks?
It is the East and Juliet
is the sun! Arise fair
sun and kill the envious moon.
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun "

fin

Memoir of a Montague

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 07:03:00 +0000

At night
My heart screams in pain
fueled by the moist touch
of heartache
I call out to you
but my voice lacks the power...
the distance
needed to reach
your heart

As if
The present
is dictated by history
and our pages
are written
in poetry
our lives in verse
the world in prose
and everyone
is struggling
to understand

I, your Romeo
You, my Juliet
forbidden to love
by the family, most call- reality
Our poison is the present
killing our souls
and robbing us
of the tomorrows
that should be

So I, Romeo..sit here
retorting and resorting
to reading lines
of Shakespeare
convincing myself
that they
were wrote for us

Like...

"One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun
Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun."

I have created villages
founded on the reasons
that make me unfit for you
then destroyed those villages
and created cities
adorned with my love
and founded on the reasons
that make us soul mates

But you
sit upon your castle
of distrust
and this trust
or lack there of
has created a lack
there of..of us

So I sit here..retorting and resorting

Like..

""Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,
But Romeo may not."

At night I've made love
to the dreams
that bring us together
climaxing somewhere
between nightmare
and reality
but...
my nightmare
..is reality

I want to write poetry
across your skin
silk skin
submerged in soliloquies
Sonnets
Odes
Haikus
and..truth

Our lives
have gave birth
to these tears
You, are the mother
of my empty heart
And I
am the father
of your lonely
soul

So... I lay here...retorting and resorting...

Like...

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!/ For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

As I close my eyes..and dream the next chapter..of us

11:30PM.Sunday.2009

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 03:22:00 +0000

Lines could never align
or define
how I feel
when you
make me
write these
words

But I write them
in hopes
that truth
lies within
the period
.

Let Me Ask you a Question

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 04:32:00 +0000

Let me ask you a question
and if I asked you this question
would your answer be an answer
or a manifestation of the question
mixed with the fact that my lies
have created our present truth

Let me ask you a question
and if I asked you this question
would you question my intentions
and answer your own questions
by simply analyzing our past
and defining my existence

Let me ask you a question
and if I asked you this question
would you omit the nouns
and answer in verbs
creating silhouettes
of what my answers have created

Let me ask you a question
and if I asked you this question
would you answer in tears
creating a story with the pain
that my life has written
by testing our future

Let me ask you a question
and if I asked you this question
would the answer lie in your heart
or in your mind
will it caress your lips
or crush your soul

Let me ask you a question
and if I asked you this question
would you answer
by simply staying quiet
and writing poetry with your eyes
so that I could read your heart

Let me ask you a question

do you still love me?

Sometimes poetry is visual....

noreply@blogger.com (Jay) — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 03:40:00 +0000

Dear Random Guy in the LES,

Thank you....

hahahahahaha