Lost in a blur.
Caught in the rapture
of late night text messages
and Saturday night phone conversations.
Sharing thoughts and desires,
ideas and feelings,
in the form of lewd conversing
with extremely detailed articulations.
"Where can we meet?"
"When are you available?"
"Allow me to get lost in you."
"I promise. It'll be unforgettable."
Sitting by the bar,
letting ice melt in her glass
as she observes uncivilized men
drool as they chase a piece of ass.
They're all the same to her;
but he was different in her eyes.
He was suave. He was smooth.
He definitely took her by surprise.
Her phone begins to ring.
She searches for it among her things;
and right when she says "Hello?",
the performer on stage starts to sing.
She looks for him in the crowd,
oblivious to if he is near or far.
He tells her: "I'm right here, love."
"Look towards the end of the bar."
With every compliment exchanged
and mixed drink that they consume,
the scent of his cologne gets so rich,
she forgot she even wore perfume.
Rum with a splash of coke
happens to be his favorite vice
while her preferred beverage
is simply Crown Royal over ice.
One or two for him.
One too many for her to remember.
The club is nearing a close;
so she allows him to befriend her.
Pillows as soft as clouds.
Sheets as smooth as satin.
She's too comfortable in her intoxication
to even inquire about what will happen.
Her thoughts danced in drunken delight
as his detailed requests caught her ear.
Her judgement fled with every moment
that their lips were able to draw near.
Slowly disrobing her, he said:
"Just relax now, baby."
"I'll take care of you."
"You have nothing to fear."
Toying with his zipper, she replied:
"I'm not afraid at all."
"Take control of me freely."
"Nothing is better than having you here."
Each kiss felt better than the last.
Her inhibitions were now in the past.
She relinquished all of the standards
on which her sense and rationality were cast.
A Sunday full of inebriation and flirting.
An evening of embracing their emotional rush.
A night of violent tossing and turning
as they perform acts that make most blush.
The air is cold and stale;
but last night's scent was so enthralling.
She says his name twice;
but no one beckons to her calling.
Her eyes open slowly
only for her to discover
that she is back inside her room;
laying beneath her own covers.
There are no remnants of his visit;
No trail for her to follow.
He was nowhere to be found;
and she began to feel hollow.
Her phone calls went unanswered.
Each message sent saw no reply.
Shocked, ashamed, and humiliated,
one tear after another fell from her eyes.
Lessons were hopefully learned.
A measure of wisdom was earned.
Life demands that we chase desire
with caution for all things concerned.
Distorted judgement only offers delight;
leaving no recognition of any warning
that lust may endure past midnight;
but loneliness comes Monday morning.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
I'm sure that everyone my age and younger can recall an instance when they heard their parents, older relatives, or just someone substantially older than them say:
"I really feel sorry for the generations to come. God help them; because I don't know what the world will become under their control."
Okay. So maybe it didn't sound exactly that way; but you get the gist. My point for stating this quote is...well...I am actually inclined to agree to some degree with what they are saying; just in regard to different manner. Literature- especially Poetry -is something that I have the utmost respect for and something that I carry an immense amount of admiration towards. I have to say, however, that while my peers have definitely been doing an exceptional job of upholding that love and respect for this and all the other arts considered, an alarming number of those younger than us have given me- at least -reason to be concerned. I am sure that many have also heard this quote:
"Talent is wasted on the young."
Youth, Beauty, and just about anything that carries vitality and promise have been used in the place of Talent for this quote. I don't necessarily agree with that quote, but recent conversations with a few of my peers and those younger have no doubt helped to supplant it. I am not ruling out the potential to improve and go against the grain of the expectations of that quote, but I am also not ruling out the high possibility that one can improve the talent without improving one's motives. I can recall a day when I was reading some of my favorite poems to some friends of mine. A guy stumbled upon us and sat down to hear a few of the pieces. Since that day, he has taken every opportunity to recite lyrics that he wrote or share with me ideas for videos that he wanted to do when he gets signed to a record label. I was rather honored that he saw fit to inquire about my writing style; so I shared with him my approach to any idea or thought that I chose to compose a piece with. I also informed him of the amount of meticulous detail that I dedicate to what I write. He didn't agree with my methods, however. He explained that taking so much time will take away from his cash flow. He said that while conscious thought is important, he wants to make music that the crowd wants to listen to. At that instant, A Soulja Boy video was all that I could think of. I damn near threw up in disgust. He was talking about how he has been posting videos of himself rapping into his webcam on youtube. He even mentioned coming up with a new dance that he hopes everyone will catch onto once he becomes famous. All I could do was shake my head and continue writing.......
......now I have no problem with people who want to make their money or attain their fame; but I don't consider it to be fair when those who do such shun or disregard the true students of their talent. Few things disgust me more than hearing someone claim to appreciate their talent or skill when the medium or method used to display that talent to the public implies otherwise. Some of the youth that this applies to who claim to love literature can probably only recall Maya Angelou or Langston Hughes; and many of them have never taken the time to study the great literary genius of Nikki Giovanni. That same youth can recite every single lyric from Lil Wayne, do every new dance that comes out nowadays, and have even adopted a copious amount of many of these rapper's ad-libs into their everyday conversing; but mention Rakim, C L Smooth, or even Talib Kweli, among others, and one can all but guarantee confusion in their facial expressions. As far as literature is concerned, I am definitely worried about the future of it as youth claims larger portions of it as day and night pass in today's modern society. I doubt that literature itself will be eradicated; but I am concerned that it may become a conduit or catalyst, if you will, for destructive thinking. Signs of such have already been evident for over a decade; but I fear that things are bound to take a rapid plunge into the darker depths of negative, obscure, malignant, and overtly provocative perversions that may end up being too saturated into this and other arts to rectify over time. Maybe we are to blame for this. Maybe we should have taken it upon ourselves to better educate and positively inspire those younger than us just as we once were. Maybe it's no one's fault. It could just be a contingency based upon one's preference. Whatever the case may be, we should all do what is necessary to preserve the integrity of this art form that we hold so close to our hearts. Literature is supposed to be informative; not destructive. It is a gateway for one to freely express themselves; but that does not mean that responsibility towards the way we allow that expression to be interpreted should be ignored. If there is such a thing as a "Generation X," I believe that all involved should do their best to make sure that "X" becomes a positive "X-Factor."
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Who knew that being laid off could be so......liberating? That's exactly how I feel nowadays since I was recently cut from my occupational hiccup/part time job. I understand that any type of job- especially good ones -are hard to come by nowadays and even harder to hold onto; but I can honestly say that one of the best things that could've happened to me involves me finally leaving that place. At the risk of sounding completely complaint-driven, I can will admit that I have been looking to rid myself of this job for over a year now; and things finally lined up in a way that is hard for me to argue with. I have been working at a local supermarket for over three years as an assistant manager over my department; and as my time there slowly progressed, I found myself developing a dislike........which slowly formed into a distaste...........which quickly dispersed into a myriad of pet peeves........which finally manifested itself as a genuine loathing for the job, the place itself, and everything encompassing me having to be there. Now I won't say that my time there was completely disdainful. As the saying goes: The "Good Times" definitely did "outweigh the Bad Times;" but the bad times were more than enough to warrant the need for an occupational change of scenery. The hours were fluctuated from one week to another; leaving no concise schedule to plan around, the management was exactly that: Management. Nothing more. Nothing less; which is good for business, but even such a proven business method can over time drive a rift between the very important- in my opinion, at least -Employer-to-Employee relationship that is necessary for the prosperity and growth of any type of company. I'm not saying that management should organize an annual company picnic and sit around with the workers and tell ghost stories. I just think that the company itself- or maybe just this particular store location -concentrated so much into the management of the store that certain people who held higher positions felt the need to patronize, belittle, and outright talk down to those of lower rank. My refusal to accept such treatment is likely why I was fired; but that's okay with me. A supermarket is no place for a poet with a major in Computer Engineering anyways. So here I am. Sitting at this desktop. Filling out applications, making phone calls. It's been awhile since I've found myself engaging in such activity. It feels good, though. There is no uncertainty or fear over when or if I will ever work again. I'm Twenty-Three. I'm more than sure that God has something better for me out there. He has already given me something better: the relief that comes with being placed into a new setting for me to work with. It is my belief that sometimes, what one views as a "displacement" actually ends up being God's "replacement" in life. This replacement isn't meant in a repetitive sense. It is to be viewed rather as God removing us from where we were PLACED and RE Placing us to a point, spot, or place in our life where things will likely be much better than they once were. I can now relate to what Kanye was talking about in his song "Spaceship." I doubt I'll be flying away anytime soon, though....