"Secret Hiding Face"

"Secret Hiding Face"
I'm so far behind my dreams;
and the ones that involve you
leave me unraveled at the seams.
Bunched up.
Hunched over.
Legs stuck.
Fell over.

I just hope I'm still falling;
because if I should land
then I demand that vicinity endears me.
I want to see clearly that which I covet.

Above it all you stand:
atop every command,
any plan,
any vision I've commissioned
for the sake of tradition…
…yet you rest under admission.

I wish to profess
but I could never express
lest I brandish transgression
like a weapon never used
fused with reckless abandon and traction.

You are my favorite distraction.
Nothing of novelties that of pearls
but more like places in the world
I thought I'd never reach.

And if these words must be swallowed
lest my stomach becomes hollow,
I sit here anxious awaiting your speech
to the chagrin of starvation.

So rich your fervor like animation
imparting imagination to me
like past moments forever new.
I sit here often stoic yet softened for you.

Heroic to those who need me.
Just Poet to those who see me
the way that you do.
I weave through lines just fine
but can't read them to you.

I knead some through you.
I press them down.
Depressed and drowned in brine.
Regression to a time
when admiration had few names.

This hood placed above my brow
Is my only option now.
How I tread slight and steady
Indicative of whether I'm ready
For what is rendered in perception.

Discretion never under seizure.
Quite the feat for the believer
unafraid of what remains to be seen.
I have been to the edge of affirmation.
At the summit I have closed my eyes
To awaken on the pavement.
The leap came with no instruction
Per the art of introduction
But I was brave.
No induction.
Nothing governed.
Through feelings we are enslaved.

Time will pave the way.
What we learn today
Cannot speak about tomorrow.
Anticipating sorrow staves enchantment
But the relaxed may face entrapment
in the face of humiliation.
Awkward interpretation.
Words that shouldn't need translation.
Maturation at it's peak
Yet and still I barely speak
Without weakened knees and grinning,
heavy breaths and blood thinning.
Wish to tell you how I feel.
Funk of fear so rank and real.
Wish to capture what I've missed.
Wet this air. Despair so brisk.
I just wish it were outlined.
Much maligned without the signs.
Signs I'd love to light and linger
Yet I sit here biting fingers…………

 













…………………………………I like you.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Currency"

"Currency"

Haven't made sense since
there was sense to be made.
Offered me your two cents
like there's rent to be paid.
Kept your pennies in my pocket
where I used to keep your locket.
Picture frame full of shame.
Not one photo. Just two names.

Haven't made sense in awhile.
Tried to make some of the trials
but if this ended sensibly,
I doubt there would be much to see.
I sense longing in your torment:
signature of recent moments
when we were one in the same.
We still love to play these games.

It would appear that we stand
only to show how far we'd fall.
Still haven't made sense of it all
but if you care to recall,
we are the structure with no walls.
The silence in the halls.
The often unheard mating call
that can't travel through the squalls.

We are something else
and absolutely nothing sensible.
Affirmation for the cynical
that delight in being critical.
Sensual but not serene.
Centrifugal without the beam.
Downward spiral sitting clean
with the nerve to have a gleam.

Glorify the shattered dreams.
Dance in frantic jubilation.
Rip the woven at the seams
and illicit some gyration.
Since only we understand,
Sense will follow our command.
Spread the scent no one can stand:
Dirty shekels in your hands.

Stench of sex and groundless lust.
Needless moments deemed a must.
Aftermath where all is hazy
and the heart has become lazy.
"Baby" beckons no reply.
There's no time to dry your eyes.
All the lowly left to die
hover over you like flies.

No country for your contrition
due to your true lack in vision.
You won't look past lover's lane.
Lessons you won't learn again.
Splitting time with window panes
and the sane that mock your madness
but at least you know you have this.
All say no. How many say yes?

Wonder if you've wondered since
your last campaign for recompense....
once thought pensive in your process.
Hid the bulk and said a lot less.
Nothing honest on display.
Rather senseless your delay.
Truly listless I will stay
'til you decide to steal away.

We make the mess then wipe it clean:
caution to the wind obscene
enough to make one question life
and every tall order for strife.
Borrowed time we've never lent.
Came up short searching for cents
for understanding seldom spent
on what may never make some sense.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz