Wednesday, December 29, 2010

"Stealing From Yourself"

Stealing From Yourself

It would appear that past endeavors
have left you with an empty stomach.
Tis true that guilt is greedy
and there's no satisfying this lummox.
You tried your best to hide
behind the fairy tales and fables;
but guilt devoured your pride
leaving no scraps at your table.

Stolen kisses...
.....clever you:
One of the few 
that were able to subdue 
long enough to dash through
the chasm of long orgasms... steal a kiss.

Stolen words...
nothing left for you to quote
after you openly smote me
for every word I wrote.
You ambitiously sought to deplete;
and can now only manage to retweet.

Stolen thoughts...
violently pillaged and trampled
through my mental fundamentals,
but conquering my complexities
will never be this simple;
because you will soon find
that you are blind to my mind.

Blatant, beligerent grand theft
of my heart's treble clef.
So now, it can't sing the agony
of a highway robber's tragedy
without seeming like a fallacy.

You slipped through the latch
and slowly lifted the hatch 
only for you to discover 
the belongings of another.
Highly confused, you stay
whilst I begin to slip away.

Your shock keeps you at bay
long enough for me to claim the day...
and every one that follows.
You've broken my locks,
smashed my windows with rocks,
and yet: you've never felt so hollow.

Quite the ordeal to process.
A rough pill to swallow indeed.
So much for your progress;
left to wallow where fate impedes.
You uprooted our foundation like weeds;
but now your wants have become needs.

Heartless thief that left
so many hearts to bleed...
you now require their generosity
to help you plant your seed.
Maybe some semblance of grace
will begin to seep through.
You just keep on hoping:
They may even feed you.

Wretched criminal of the heart:
do you want to impart your disdain?
Does the pain remind you of how
you hardly cared about their despair?

You've earned no phrases.
Not even an utterance.
You now find yourself governed
by that which you've scorned stubborn;
adorned in the same bloody cloak
that you have always worn.

It's no longer a game to you.
You're naked in your shame
in spite of the garments you maintain.
With nothing left to gain,
you stand still in your angst
only to eventually fall through.
Perdition is far from therapeutic;
so nothing can absolve you.

Guilt has come to feast again.
Scream all you want for help;
but empty words will go unheard
You stole solace from yourself. <3

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Friday, December 3, 2010

"The Company You Keep"

The Company You Keep

One afternoon, the young Pastor of a well known local church locked up his building after replacing a few fixtures inside. He then headed down the sidewalk about a block or two to the parking lot where his car was parked. He would make this walk every two or three days per week and would be greeted by little kids playing and elderly people sitting on their porch; but on this particular day, it was unusually quiet out; and not one person could be found anywhere in the area.

He got within one block from his church when he heard a woman scream. He stopped right where he was and stood still to see if he could hear the woman's voice again in hopes of finding out where it came from. A minute or so passed and no sound could be heard. Just then, he heard rapid footsteps that grew louder and faster as he stood there. Before he could react, however: he turned around to see a man dressed in a moist, dingy black sweatshirt and tattered jeans standing only a few steps away from him. He had a skull cap covering his face with the eyes cut out; which obviously implied that he was either a robber or much worse.

His assumptions were confirmed when he looked down to see the long, sharp, blood-stained machete tightly gripped in the man's hand. He was sure that the man would lunge out at him with the weapon; but to his surprise, the man instead removed his mask, stared the Pastor down for ten seconds or so, and darted past him down the street and around the corner. 

Completely befuddled by what has just transpired, the Pastor just shook his head and reached in his pocket in hopes of calling the police to report what he just saw. To his misfortune, however: his cell phone battery was completely drained; so he said a prayer to God for the safety of anyone else who should encounter the mysterious man and continued towards his car.

That evening, while eating dinner with his family, he overheard his television in the living room. The news reporter mentioned a masked murderer that was arrested and taken into custody around 3:36 p.m.; which happened to be about ten minutes or so after his encounter with the person. The man was reportedly responsible for the stabbing deaths of about seven people earlier that day. He stepped away from the table and into the room to view the person's face; and sure enough, it was the exact same person he encountered earlier that day.

Later on that night after his daily bible study with his family, he decided that he would go to the prison the next day to visit the man that he shared that awkward experience with in hopes of asking him a question or two. He arrived at the prison the next day a little after 12:00 that afternoon. The security guard accompanied him down the hall to the cells and stood outside the door while the pastor greeted the man from outside of the cell.

Still slightly confused about what happened a day earlier, he asked the man: "In light of what you were obviously up to yesterday, one thing still doesn't quite make sense to me: Why didn't you lunge out at me in the same manner that you did with those you've previously killed that day? Is it because you knew that I was a pastor and would feel a certain degree of guilt afterwards?" The man, still dressed in his same clothes, looked up at him and replied: "It wasn't guilt that saved you, man. The seven people that I killed earlier were all alone when I did so. No witnesses to be found."

"I had every intention of killing you as well; but you had too many people surrounding you."

Without saying another word, the young Pastor left the prison and headed for his vehicle once again. This time, however: His comfort was raised exponentially; because he knew that hedge of protection that he always preached about was much more than just a Sunday sermon.

Be mindful of the company you keep. It just may be the very company that keeps you alive.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

"The Kitchen Table"

The Kitchen Table

I'm reaching for my cup
sitting high on the kitchen table.
You refused to help me up
because you knew that I were able.
You would greet me with a kiss
as you gently stroke my hair;
then you'd smile with confidence
as you point towards the chair.
It's like you were everywhere
that I ever needed you to be.
You always strive to keep me aware;
although I'm far too young to see.
When my stints of curiosity
seemed more than some could bear,
you always offered earnest generosity
and truly unconditional care.

Your trademark tempo has declined
due to issues with your back;
so I really don't mind
helping pick up some of the slack.
I've always had a knack
for consistency when handling chores;
but this higher rate of frequency
became much more than I could absorb.
I try my best not to complain;
although it hardly seems fair
to have house work accompany homework
while your own children are laying there.
They wouldn't lift a finger for much
outside of a beer bottle or blunt;
and when bills come to the forefront,
they disappear by the first of the month.

You knew that it wasn't right;
but you never really put up a fight.
You'd just allow them to stay here;
pacifying themselves with their plight.
This severely bothered me for years.
I truly couldn't stand the sight;
but my love for you kept me near
and I sat with you every night.
I never really slept much
when your health became an issue.
Some nights involved sugar attacks.
Others involved trash bags and tissue.
My days were usually spent
keeping your insulin needles handy
while nights involved keeping my brother
from eating your chocolate candy.

Time changed my point of view
and we started to grow apart;
but what always remained constant
was your spot reserved in my heart.
I'm seventeen years old
and college comes in a few months.
I've truly loved being here with you;
but this strain is entirely too much.
For weeks on end, you've tried your best
to coerce me into staying:
From guilt trips and tantrums
to words you'd never consider saying.
Tears rolled down my cheeks
as I helped my brother into the van.
I know you won't believe it right now;
but I've done all that I can.

The winds of late August
begin to violently blow.
The bridges are cluttered with cars
that gathered fast; but drive slow.
Uncle constantly kept us in the loop
while keeping you from the wind and rain;
but I know that although you were safe,
The house we loved absorbed the pain.
The roof was ripped and torn apart
by nature's malicious maelstrom.
I know that seeing this firsthand
placed your heart and mind in bedlam.
No matter how much we begged,
you consistently replied "No.";
but your wisdom eventually took over
and you knew it was time to let go.

As my Mother clutched the receiver,
tears swiftly streamed from her eyes
when finally given the news
that her brother was not found alive.
None of us had the strength
to divulge such woeful findings;
but true to form: your intuition
easily exposed what we were hiding.
Although I knew you'd find out soon,
I never knew the depth of it's impact.
You spent day after day in your room.
Your emotions were far from intact.
It angers me to see you like this,
but it wasn't hard to understand;
and with every good night kiss,
I knew that darker times were at hand.

The holidays were slow and dull.
Winter beauty has lost it's luster.
We longed for that jovial aura
that only you could muster.
The new year is days away
and our home is in fair condition;
but the doctors kept you at bay
to hopefully give your illness remission.
Cell phones stayed within reach,
Mom has become a bundle of nerves,
and fear is starting to breach
all the patience I've had reserved.
I've always admired your strengh.
You said the same resides in me;
but it's hard to shake the grief
of what will eventually be.

Sitting at the kitchen table,
I hear Mom hang up the phone
and before I can inquire,
she softly whispers: "She's gone."
The next few days at home
hardly created a comfort zone;
I'm surrounded by loved ones,
but never felt more alone.
To make things worse, of course:
little sorrow was left to render
while trying to keep the peace
between fighting family members.
Violent words flew back and forth
as my heart underwent it's contortions
at the sight of your own children
arguing over who gets their portion.

My mind is in the mortuary,
but my heart is still at bay
so I request that they pull over
and let me walk the rest of the way.
I'm not the least bit nervous.
I know exactly what I'll say,
but it's hard to serve this purpose
while wishing you were here to stay.
The love you imparted always lasted.
None other felt so true to me.
That's what drew me near your casket
as I delivered this heartfelt eulogy;
and as a room of teardrops gathered
to show how much you would be missed,
I just gently stroked you hair
before offering you one final kiss.

A few years have passed by;
but you still thrive in memory.
Although I know you rest up high,
You still feel so near to me.
Seventeen years of living together
didn't always impart serenity;
but knowing you live in me forever
grants me unparalleled tranquility.
The hard times that we've endured
displayed our worst and very best;
but the relationship that emerged
truly withstood any and every test.
You gave all that you had for me.
I know that now, I'm far from able;
but I'll climb that chair again one day
and join you at God's kitchen table.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Rest in Peace, Jeralyn Morris Metz. I love you more than my heart can ever express. Till we meet again, Grandmother. <3

Tuesday, November 16, 2010



There was once a very busy man who worked for a law firm. He worked long hours and his boss gave him a hard time on a regular basis. His mainstay is usually that of a very relaxed, mild-mannered person; but after months of stress and pressure from his job, he felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. After finally reaching his weekend off after working two weeks straight, he just wanted to go home and relax. He arrived home Friday evening and promptly fell into is favorite recliner so that he could read his newspaper and hopefully take a nap or two. His plans were sure to be averted, though; due to a small yet very significant miscalculation: His nine year old daughter: Vanessa.

Vanessa loved her father with all of her heart. She likely favored him over her mother, even; due to the fact that he is slightly more willing to offer incentives to her. Vanessa and her father used to go on their own little outings regularly before his big promotion at the law firm; but she rarely gets to see him nowadays. She was obviously elated to find him home; so she went to greet him and spend some time with him. He sat there with his head buried deep within his paper; but removed it slowly when he felt the presence of someone else in the room. As he removed the paper from his face, he saw his daughter's face light up with a smile bigger and brighter than the sun itself. 

He didn't really have to guess what his little girl wanted; thanks mostly to the huge smile on her face. She reached out to hug him and he grabbed her with his right arm to give her a kiss and a big hug; but before she could relay her request, he issued one of his own: "Vanessa, can you give me about five minutes? I want to catch up on some of my reading." Not the least bit disappointed, She nodded her head and went to her room to go play with her dolls. 

Five minutes flew by.

 Vanessa returned to the living room where her father sat still reading his newspaper. He glanced up to see her standing in her usual spot directly in front of him; as patient and excited as before. Still extremely tired, he said to her: "Honey, can I have about ten more minutes? We'll go out for ice cream afterwards, okay?" Still determined and very hopeful, she nodded her head once more and skipped back to her room. 

Ten minutes have come and gone.

 Vanessa once again made her short trek back to her father. He was starting to feel slightly more rested; but still needed more time. As she stood there lovingly staring at him, he once more asked her: "Just fifteen more minutes, baby. I'll be ready to go by then." She agreed without even an ounce of frustration and once more returned to her room to watch television. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. 

Vanessa decided to walk slowly back to the living room this time in hopes of giving her father an extra minute or two of rest before they got ready to leave. She found her way back to her familiar position right in front of him. Seeing how determined Vanessa was, he devised a plan that would hopefully occupy her some while he took a nap. 

There was a huge picture of the planet earth on one of the pages of his paper. He tore the page from the rest of his paper, and to his little girl's confusion, tore it into pieces about the size of her hands. He handed it to her with a roll of scotch tape and told her: "Vanessa: if you can finish this puzzle of the earth in good enough time, then we'll head out to the theater to see that new movie you've been waiting on." Vanessa's eyes widened like two huge gems. More excited than she has ever been, she sprinted back to her room to get started. Her father was more than sure this would guarantee at least half an hour of nap time; so he placed his newspaper over his face and nodded off.....

......two minutes have elapsed.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He once again glanced over to see his beautiful daughter with her trademark smile looking back at him; only this time, her hands were behind her back. "What's wrong, honey? Having a tough time with the puzzle?" he asked her. She shook her head no; so he asked her "Well, where is it, baby?" 

With a slight giggle, Vanessa revealed a completely repaired page with each and every part of the planet earth right where it belongs. Extremely surprised, He asked her: "Vanessa, how were you able to complete the puzzle so quickly?" She smiled and replied: "There was a picture of Jesus on the back of the paper. I put him in the middle and the rest of the pieces were easy to put back together."

Moved by how keen his daughter's discovery was, he rose up from his chair, threw away his newspaper, and took Vanessa out to see her favorite movie and then to get some ice cream. 

Every day since then, he lived a stress and worry free life; because he knew that if his daughter Vanessa could find the center of all things, then he most certainly knew who was the solution to any and every problem that was sure to befall him.

Monday, November 1, 2010

"Pink Passion Fruit"

Pink Passion Fruit

I long for the taste.
I still remember the sight.
I lust after it so much,
I can hardly sleep at night;
and it truly never fails.
Every time that I close my eyes,
I still think of that moist confection
resting within her candy-coated thighs.
I want it so much
that mere words fail to measure
how bad I crave that sweet taste
that gives me so much pleasure.
My hunger is beyond suppression;
so I'm always in heavy pursuit
with an insatiable obsession
for her pink passion fruit.

I can't go one day without her.
I'm nervous with discontent
if I can't fill my lungs
with her sugar-sweet scent.
I often reminisce
over the look on her face
when we pull closer to each other
for our dark, forbidden embrace:

We ravage each other frantically
as desire builds in our eyes
just to remove these binding wrappers
of blouses and neckties.
We share hints of plum & watermelon
with each exchange of the tongue.
The mere sight of her exposed flesh
is something no man can turn from.
The perspiration gets more frequent
with each body part felt;
so the sound gets louder
when I gently strike her apple with my belt.
She quickly falls in to bed
and gives me free reign
to partake of the various flavors
that only her body can maintain.
I give unparalleled pleasure
that she will never forget
As I indulge in the butter-rich taste
while I slowly kiss her neck.
Her movements are free-flowing
as I start to lower my head in
so I can playfully lick around
the outskirts of her honeydew melons.
Her anticipation grows
and mine's even more so
as my tongue starts to dance
around her smooth, caramel torso.
She wipes the sweat from her head
as she starts to close her eyes
whilst I nibble ever so gently 
on those same candy-coated thighs.
She feels as if she's lost control;
but she submits freely
and willingly parts her limbs
to allow me to begin feeding.
I imagine the look on her face
as she slips into convulsions
from my lips digging deep with ambition
as I lick with strong, unbridled emotion.
I just love the mixture of flavors;
from tangerine to guava,
then peach-laced mango
and pomegranite papaya.
I continue to feast with vigor
moving my tongue in various motions
until that sweet cherry finally pops
& our bed has become an ocean.

We often give into our pleasures;
sometimes more than once per night.
It would seem as if our desires
are too strong for us to fight;
so I know I'll always want more.
I may never stop my pursuit
to yeild to this undying hunger
for her pink passion fruit.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

"Stitches And Scotch Tape"

Stitches And Scotch Tape

I try not to move it.
It's tired of being tossed around;
because if it's juggled too long,
it eventually falls to the ground.
Then come the footsteps
of a lost relationship yet again.
that trample through the flesh
that once held so much promise within.
It isn't always their fault, though:
Sometimes, the purveyor of cirumstance
firmly flattens it with his boot
as if to block better happenstance; 
but It just keeps brushing off
the remnants of love that always escape
and pieces itself back together
with these stitches and scotch tape.

I honestly don't know
how this keeps happening; 
but it's evident that my heart
can never evade emotional trampling.
It's as pure as can be.
It doesn't deserve the pain
of being shot, stabbed, sliced,
and thrown out into the rain.
Although this is the constant,
It just absorbs the beatings
and still searches for solace
amongst the realm of mistreatings;
and when it seems too much
for my flustered heart to take,
he uses hope as a crutch
and adds more stitches and scotch tape.

I took every relationship serious;
but my heart became the punchline.
It longs for vibrant, new life;
but always gets left with a flatline
Even when I can't take it
and don't want to try anymore,
He just patches himself up
and hopes that happiness is in store.
I often painfully implore
for him to stop hurting himself; 
but he just keeps dragging hungrily
with a painful optimism that can't be helped;
and even though he's dying slowly,
he still holds on for love's sake
and gets back to bonding & sewing
with more stitches and scotch tape.

Look at him:
A misconstrued mash-up.
A haphazard hodgepodge
of different love components
that have been ravaged
and forcefully dislodged.
He is stripped of all comfort
as his flesh hangs loosely.
He can hardly sustain himself
as he continues to bleed profusely;
so to whoever he ends up with:
Please don't burn him at the stake.
I doubt he can hang on any further:
He just ran out of stitches and scotch tape.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Friday, October 15, 2010

"Twisted Elegance"

Twisted Elegance

I've grown tired of this:
I'm done with all the pain;
so give me back my umbrella
and promptly walk out in the rain.
There's nothing more to gain
from trying to keep you near.
I'm finally ready to be free
from what I used to fear.
I'm finished with the tears.
I never really had to cry.
I just look up at the sky
and let the sun dry my eyes.
Buried deep beneath the lies
were all your broken promises.
That dealt me a critical blow;
but not enough to shake my confidence.
I've reclaimed all that I am
and my heart is now at rest.
I used to give a few damns;
but you'll never see the next.
If these words seem too harsh
for you to continue reading,
then feel free to turn the page;
because I am not conceding.
I'll admit: It's truly sad
that it had to be like this;
but after how you've treated me,
I can't say there's much to miss.
There's no need to reminisce.
I can't conjure up a reason
to dwell on how quickly forever
eventually became a season.
I no longer have the time
to notice the writing on the wall.
Life is entirely too short
and I prefer to stand tall.
You were fully aware.
You know the condition of my heart.
Yet without even a somber stare,
You chose to tear it apart.
I loved you with all I had.
Part of me won't let that go;
but time ministers to the heart.
Who knows if again that light can glow?
The structure we built so high
is now void of it's residents.
We seemed to be beauty defined;
but that was just twisted elegance.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz