"Misunderstood"

"Misunderstood"

You coddle me.
You fondle me.
Explicitly.
Sweet bliss to me.

Ridiculous.
So meticulous,
Yet very ubiquitous.
You dare to be conspicuous.

Such misery:
The way you disclose your plans
As I yearn for your moisture
But you tease me with your hands.

I just don't understand.
You say that I don't understand.

It makes you sick.
It smites your wick
To think I would withhold
Something so strong and thick.

It turns your stomach sour
To think I won't let you devour
And consume my flesh with power.
You anxiously count the hours

Until I hit the door
And you scale me like a tower;
And I pin you to the floor
Right before we take a shower.

But I still don't understand.
You still don't think I understand.

You captivate.
Your hands still navigate.
I would elaborate;
But it's already late.

You make yourself my concubine.
You say that I'm your magistrate.
You're so hungry; ready to dine
And only I can fill your plate.

You want your need.
You want to feed.
I let you take the lead.
I let you proceed.

My back against the door.
Knees planted to the floor.
I watch those hands explore.
You are in search of more.

I still don't understand.
You say you'll make me understand.

Instant pressure is built.
Soft lips stretched to my hilt
Without the least of guilt
And not one drop is spilt.

Just so damn reckless.
You leave me breathless.
Your chin is dripping wet;
But you want no pearl necklace.

You want no dripping chain.
You will not leave a stain.
You only aim to drain.
Every drop is yours to gain.

And yet, I don't understand.
You want to help me understand.

So plump. So soft.
Sensitive to the touch.
So slippery when wet.
That sweet spot I love so much.

Let's do away with cliche:
Of course it hits right.
Of course it tastes good.
Of course it fits tight.

I lay awake at night.
I sit back in my chair.
That's when you straddle me.
You take me; hard and bare.

And I don't understand?
Lay back. Release my hands.

You earn what you've provoked.
My dark side is now invoked.
You can't hide the words you spoke.
I take pride in what I tote.

Every inch. Tremendous girth.
Take it all. Let it hurt.
Show me what your words are worth
Until you squirm, contort and spurt.

Back up where your boasts are met.
I won't give in. I'm not done yet.
I give pleasure that you won't forget
As you recite in short, sharp breaths:

"Oh-my-damn-shit-grab-my-hands​.
Good-ness-gra-fuck-what-the-da​mn
Beat-it-ba-by-stroke-and-stand
I-see-now-you-un-der-stand!!!!​"

Deep sighs.
Moist eyes.
Then I pull out.

Open mouth;
But you can't shout
After such a bout.

No lofty wit.
No talking shit.
Just an ambitious man.

Now ask yourself
Without my help:
Do I understand?

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"My Life: Romantic Insomniac"

"My Life: Romantic Insomniac"

I can't sleep at night.
My fear won't let me;
so I toss and turn till daylight
wondering if she'd forget me.
It all happened so fast.
I thought it was forever;
but it was swiftly cast.
We just couldn't keep it together.
We've a very extensive past
to say we didn't last long.
I still drive myself crazy
when I hear one of our songs.
It's almost impossible to breathe
when my heart is at the ocean floor;
so I take short breaths between tears
and stay far from my door.
I wreck my mind daily:
How could someone so receptive
confound and compel so effectively?
Nothing about her cites deceptive.
This wounded soul without a plan
is likely far from her sight.
Although she lays with her new man,
I still hope he treats her right.

I can't sleep at night.
Intrigue has snatched me.
Quaint conversing under moonlight
is all that seems to catch me.
This is so fresh.
A welcome break from the monotony
of those lonely, depressing nights
that served as my monopoly.
She is so interesting.
She is defined and underlined;
but nothing points to unrelenting.
She's full of new things to find.
I've never met her kind.
I doubt she even has a caste;
because we've become intertwined
without much help from my past.
We know where this will lead;
and we aren't trying to ignore
that each nocturnal meeting
reveals what is in store.
Infatuation rooted from planted seeds
makes us want each other more.
I plan to fulfill this need.
It's never felt like this before.

I can't sleep at night.
Love and Lust implore me
to travel four walls at night
as you embrace and explore me.
We abhor words.
Deep breaths are our only definition.
Every single moan heard
lends credence to recognition.
We orchestrate slow movements
but allow our hearts to race.
The furniture provides improvement
whilst we regulate the pace.
The flavor of that first kiss
distinctively lines these lips
that have housed themselves in bliss
completely across your legs and hips.
We drown in rich, juicy desire
but it just feels like sips.
Tears fall. Sweat drips.
Heads dip. Hands grip.
We lay there on the floor;
wading in our fresh puddle
but our minds and hearts implore
that we do much more than cuddle.
We try our best to rest;
but this is what we've longed for.
Every kiss upon your flesh
makes me want you more and more.

I can't sleep at night.
The loneliness won't endear me.
This is just the first night
that she isn't near me.
I forgot how bad it feels
to lay here by myself.
I try to clear my mind;
but it offers little help.
I don't want this solitude.
I've no need to be this shrewd.
I don't mean to come off rude;
but I don't need the multitude:
Visitors and deceitful wishers
hoping that I'll break this bond
that I've forged within her ocean
just to stand within their pond.
I've grown so very fond
of how profound and satiating
it is to feel her warmth;
but that goes without much stating.
I lay awake although it's late.
I like to count the days.
It doesn't make me feel great;
but it's the only way
that I can assure myself
that I'll see her again soon.
I write about her sometimes.
I even sing and croon.
I know she's thinking of me.
More than I could say before.
I know that she loves me.
Nothing ever felt this pure.
I know we'll find a way.
It won't happen in an instance;
but we'll be back someday;
So I deal with the distance.

I can't sleep at night.
So I dream throughout the day.
They place hope within my sight
so I no longer hide away.
I've always embraced this nightly role.
It imparts what most minds lack:
It exercises a dreamer's soul:
the life of a romantic insomniac. <3

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Suicidal Moths"

"Suicidal Moths"


I've watched them float.
I've watched them flutter.
Delicate creatures cast asunder;
Led to believe their lives are a blunder.
They chase wonder
All while wondering why:
"Why do I want to wonder?
Why do I even wonder?
I fly as high as others do.
I cruise through rain and thunder,
The chill of winter,
The sting of summer,
But I still often wonder....
....am I among the numbers?"


Their questions yield no answer.
Ignored inquiry is a raw deal;
So they float from thrill to thrill.
It's the closest thing to real....


....until there's nothing left to chase.
Others call their stagnancy complacency.
But they've grown weary of the pace.
Nothing cleaves more than latency.
They see no reason to save face.
It seems useless to hide from others
Whether their wings are dull in hue
Or arrayed in lush, vibrant colors.


They are the lost.
They are the weary.
Lulled into living without cost.
I've never witnessed something so dreary.


It's hard to see clearly
When gliding through the wind
With eyes so cold and teary.
They search for a friend:
Someone with leverage to lend.
Someone willing to extend hands;
But danger is found therein
On the palm in which they land.


Underlying motives.
Undisclosed plans
Line the fingers of the soulless.
Heartless purveyors of swiftly clasped hands.
The hummingbirds have their perch.
The blue jays have their branch;
But what of these delicate souls?
Is their every move left to chance?


I watch them flutter.
I watch them float.
I watch them fly away
As if to find a way
To just escape
Or perhaps search for a hideaway 
Or a higher way
Far away
Furthest from those hands
That sought to swat with every chance.
Or maybe in search of help.
Or possibly in search of self.


The sky is clear; yet it appears
That they've found a new direction.
It's where only they can steer;
So it's barely within detection;
But I've noticed from inception.
I've been watching that long.
I heard every love song
Among moments drawn out and prolonged.
They travel in public.
Not much is required of stealth.
Maybe they're running from oneself.
They think this will offer health.


I see them flutter.
I watch them fly.
I witness them running.
They travel sky high.
I slowly widen my eyes
As I stand to see where they run;
But I can't seem to ask why
As they draw closer to the sun.
I must admit that I understand
Albeit still shocked and stunned.
For them, life is no longer fun.
They've grown tired of being shunned.
It's quite the copious chore
To be okay with being ignored.
They are the ones floating about bulbs
Before being knocked to the floor.
They are the creatures looking around
As if in earnest wonder
In hopes of being seen on the ground
Awaiting feet to be flattened under.
It seems that no one cares
To even lend unsavory skill
To invoke an end to their misery;
So they cater to their own will.


They flock and gather around:
This collective in need of kill;
Yet they never make a sound.
Not one scream or painful shrill.
They've had their fill.
They've choked down pills,
Flown with broken wings,
And dealt with frigid wind chill.


There was nothing I could do.
My only option was to pray
That they would just come to
And change their route one day.
Flutter in my direction.
Float about my way.
I promise to offer protection.
I'll keep this world at bay.
I know it's highly unlikely
That they'll hear the words I say;
But it's always been just like me
To try to pull victims from the fray.


I know the sun seems warm;
But it will surely harm.


I know the light is bright;
But it will surely smite.


I just want them to be alright;
But I can't help them in this fight.


Such a lonely realization lingers
As I stare at ten bare fingers.


I don't have enough room
To pull them from their smoldering tomb.
The inevitable surely looms;
But I won't accept that it's coming soon.
Sunlight glows within my eyes;
But it can't stop the tears I cry
As it consumes and scorches them dry.
I never wanted to say goodbye.


Every single social butterfly
Was once a caterpillar, if given thought.
We give them support to get by;
But what of the suicidal moths?

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Air Conditioning (Fair Weather)"

"Air Conditioning (Fair Weather)"


It's okay. I get it:
The weather is fair.


Temporary fans and critics are numerous
Like the braids in my hair.
Sometimes, they point and laugh.
Other times, they sit and stare;
But they all hate the fact
That I really don't care.
I may not fuel the fire;
But I'm still very aware.
One can say the right words
And a multitude will follow
Until similar verses are deemed absurd.
That's when the halls become hollow.
I'll spill no skills for you to wallow.
I'm not a pill that you can swallow.
I've been called a class act;
But never asked for you to follow.


It's okay. I get it:
The weather is fair.


Then why do "enlightened fellas"
Fight over the umbrellas?
Why are the "good girls"
Still protecting their curls?
Go ahead. Cover your head.
Don't let it seep through those pores.
The truth is hovering overhead.
That's all that I have in store.
You claim to love that "Real Talk;"
Say that it's needed more
Until it's outlined in chalk;
Killed because you've grown bored.
Noble things that were once admired
You now seem to abhor.
You fashioned and fawned desire;
But now, you just blatantly ignore.


But it's okay. I get it.
The weather is still fair.


Listless knaves of twisted perception;
Enslaved by what you think is free will.
You blindly subscribe to transgression;
Thinking progression yet standing still.
You leeching slew of selective fans
Reaching out for my hands
While pretending to understand
If it will help bolster your plans!
You're full of shit!
You make me sick!
Find some consistency,
You pathetic band of hypocrites!
You're like the preacher in the pulpit
Denouncing divorce among the few:
a congregation of empty minds
Where ex wives line most of the pews.


But it's okay. I get it.
The weather is so very fair.


Unwise to think I'm unaware
Of the not so subtle way
That you will cosign my content
Contingent upon what others say.
All one has to do is comment
On how it made them "feel that way"
And you'll race in hopes to find it
When I posted it a week from yesterday.
No need to repeat
If you saved it.
Too late to retweet.
Can't find it in your favorites.
I likely will never boast.
My confidence need not be spiked
By those who don't read the wall post
But jump at the chance to like.
If it's not something controversial
Or words to make the panties wetter,
You'll adhere to role reversal
And become a skillful forgetter.


But it's okay. I get it.
The weather is ever so fair.


So fair.
This fair weather...
Bathing you in your ignorance
like a pedophile's love letter.
Look at those storm clouds.
Watch them scream loud with thunder
As the lightning smacks the ground;
Leaving aimless minds asunder.
You don't recognize your plight.
You can't identify your blunder.
You just stare up at the light
While your lives are swiftly plundered.
I subscribe to better sight;
But you just say I run and hide
When I don't choose to fight
Instead of staying where I reside.
It's not a matter of pride.
I just stick to what I decide.
I'm too old for ridiculous rides.
I've something much better inside.


It's okay. Go on.
Enjoy that fair weather.


Group hug. Band together.
Get that sporadic clothing wetter.
Only the foolish vacate the shelter
In earnest chase of the trendsetter.
I won't live up to your claims.
I am not in need of fame.
I'm not wild; but can't be tamed.
I will not forsake my name.
I am so much more
Than you could ever proclaim.
We are not one in the same
Because I don't delight in shame;


So I don't want your groundless praise.
Please spare me the accolades.
If your words aren't from the heart,
Then lose yourself in that maze
Of the foolishly unrelenting
Who can strategically remember forgetting
About the message that I'm sending;
Scrambling to start from their ending.
Quite sad that artificial air
Can seamlessly ebb and flow
To serve me beyond compare
That which you should long to know;
But you swear that you were listening.
You tell me that I'm glistening
Only to then say that I'm sickening.
I'll just stick to air conditioning.


It's okay. I get it.
The weather is fair.
That fair weather gets you wetter;
But I believe this air is better.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Drive And Devotion"

"Drive And Devotion"


My determination
Involves distinct dissertation
Lined with astute articulation
To help liberate whole nations.
I'm not here to enslave
Or chastise those who misbehave.
Their minds are trapped in caves;
So I'm merely here to save.
They will call us knaves
And say that we're untrue;
But if you're willing to stand still,
We can give them all their due.


I try to manipulate the nation
by facilitating the people.
That's the route of my destination.
Surviving in this world 
requires some adaptation 
with these problems that we're facing.
It's time for some change
if we really want to make it.
I'm determined for better days 
liberation.
No matter what you've been through, 
we can still progress.
So my mission is to empower 
so we wont regress
and we wont regret
the future is tomorrow.
No time to rest.


Indeed there is a dire need.
So many minds to feed.
My heart profusely bleeds 
To see true potential slowly recede.
We've lost the will to know.
We stopped asking why
And as the tension grows,
Ambition towards knowledge slowly dies.
The worst of it all?
We are strong enough to endure.
We have the wherewithal;
But choose to remain obscure.
We rile in ignorant illness;
Forgetting that we are the cure.
Progress falters into stillness
After trudging through the impure.


With knowledge comes success;
even for the oppressed.
Rejection is progression
as our actions become erect.
The reflection in the mirror
is who we hope to become next.
Sleep is human nature;
so dreams are in effect.
Politicians are corrupted.
Who do we elect?
In a materialistic world, 
only money gets respect.
Put some knowledge in the mental. 
Watch our brains resurrect.
a better brain is better thoughts;
so we think with intellect.
Achieving is succeeding.
Ambition is believing.
A leader in our pathway 
is what the nation's needing.


I see exactly what you mean.
You seem to have planned well; but we need a bigger scene.
Let's think on a grand scale.
We should aim for international
Instead of just what is preset.
They act as if it's magical.
They don't know: there is no reset.
Salvage the true and factual
Before they deem each other rejects.
All forms of change are taxable.
They don't know they're paying fees yet.
It's quite common amongst our plains:
We choose lifestyles that we can't tame,
Adhere to what we can't maintain,
And have the nerve to still proclaim.
We long and thirst for fame;
So we get knee deep in these games
And find no reason to complain
Until our shirts are blotched and stained.
Reckless life is such a strain.
It just leaves room for disdain
Over that which we can't contain
As we rile in self induced pain.
This is why we must work.
Show the world it's true worth.
Give the hollow something to follow
So they can acquire necessary girth.


We take advantage of life's options:
Act without caution.
We can find many souls 
being sold off at auctions.
It surely is a shame 
what people falsely proclaim;
constantly asking for change. 
No action. Just complain.
Would rather hustle on the street; 
getting paid in blood stains.
The same remains until change...




Life is in the form of movies; 
so let's switch up the scene.
A college degree comes second fiddle 
to being a rapper or to sing.
There are such things 
as unrealistic dreams
when you reject opportunities
that success tries to bring
Excuse these words that 
are perceived as cynical;
but effort and success 
eventually becomes identical.
If only generations can manage priorities,
we wont be labeled 
as the majority or minority
but as people that want 
to see everyone succeed.
Now thats a grand scale thought. 
Now let the vision proceed.


Yes.....


Let's grab the seeds,
till the ground,
fill those mounds,
pull those weeds, 
gather them around,
wake up the world!
Let them hear the sound
of willing hands tearing down
despicably low class,
crude and crass,
half-assed closed minds.
Make them leave it all behind.
We cannot control the damage
caused to what we hold dear
unless we first learn how to manage
that which filters through our ears.


Ideas shouldn't remain as such;
even if very few care as much.
The potential to be profound
is not inclined to who is around.
The thoughts that churn within me
are not predicated on who befriends me.
One's ability to act and be
shouldn't be affected by who will see;
but thank God that there are some
who share this lush, bright vision.
There's very little to be done
for those who cling to indecision.
The indifferent are just twisted;
No dominion for them to claim.
The complacent are surely insipid;
too dull and bland to light the flame;
But you truly understand
that to reach one's destiny,
a plan cannot remain a plan.
The silent screams are deafening.


There's so much more to see.
We have yet to scratch the surface.
Everyone deserves to be.
We are here to serve a purpose.
Together we can bring them out;
these stagnant lives in need of motion;
but we can't force what isn't wanted.
We can only offer our devotion.


Written By: Courtney "Metaphysical Poet" and Devin Joseph Metz "EndlessInkPen"