Wednesday, February 26, 2014



Possession is nine tenths
yet your hands look disgusting.
Decrepit and dirty,
flirting with butter until
slick enough to impose will
and appear to stand still.
Slipped past door sils
without breaking the locks.
The grey fox is no blood hound
and since that dog won't hunt,
you can no longer front.
About face, soldier.

You are much older than the method.
New tricks and predictable manuevers.
Rumored to leave patterns.
Crossed familiar terrains flatter
than the evidence of your return.
Bridges burned in your wake.
Shook off the ashes, slight gashes
barely kept under disguise...
...your eyes betray your intent.
You believe you were sent
to fulfill a purpose seldom shown
for that which has never grown.

Attempt to cultivate your craft
among the magistrates that laugh
at your lack of style or flare
and you are bound to wonder where
you left your dignity after all.
After wire tapped phone calls
and that first search warrant,
you've become a little more abhorrent.
 The cloth will surely smudge
but the torrent will not rinse away.
Before you even think or budge, 
you should plan your getaway.

Since you were stealing anyway,
why not just ask for what is yours?
Instead, your pride gets in the way.
You find yourself on all four.
Behind the couch, the light is out
and all the action is dead.
Like a needle awaiting thread,
you take your time as you tread.
Under my bed you find the box.
You pick the lock. Forget keys.
Upon your lap lies your own trap.
You're bound and strapped at the knees.
I may want to negotiate
if you play nice and say "Please."
Not by my hands. Please understand:
I'm not the taunt nor the tease.
You've paved the way for your dismay.
An easy story to tell.
You've forged a path in disarray.
Who couldn't follow the trail?
Who wouldn't pick up the smell?
Funk of the frail high and mighty
who might be on the fence
like locks that dangle unclenched.
Made nothing common of sense
from a long line of demanding
substantial marks upon their names
who boast of their understanding.
What you lack you say you've claimed.
This your true measure of fame.
Infamous your times of quarrel
where you display insipid morals.

I will not rue this tomorrow;
so take back what I won't borrow:
Make way for the wasted time.
Every trinket. Every dime
spent in vain in chase of me.
All this useless vagrancy.
Make room for complacency.
Chances you had to run free
were lent to your latency.
Facing me in pain, you'll see
how far your efforts have been wrought.
Thought does nothing to improve
one who will not make a move.
It would behoove you to pack heavy.
Arch your shoulders.
Nice and steady.

Possession is nine tenths.
Reclaim everything you've sent
amid your deceitful purpose.
No receipt for your purchase.
Your life's service a lie
and you will be tried.
Crying like you've never shown it.
No denying that you own it.
Blown it further than expansion.
Locked you up within your mansion.
Thin the walls that echo shame.
Walls created in your name.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Monday, February 17, 2014



Don't pull me up.
I've grown fond of this angle.
I can see so much more
from this ledge where I dangle
and I'm sure I'll fall soon
but before I do,
I will peer into the skies
for what runs away from the moon.
Eyes wide before departure.
Sport for the archer
hoping that I hang on a little longer
while taking aim at my heart.
I drew it all in parts:
One in admission of guilt.
One in need of thrill.
Two equal parts ill will
with both sinking fast.
Pile driven pulsations.
Downward spiral that will last
long enough to witness the crash.
Cashed out but bought in.
Sold out to souls thin enough
to see through the rough clearly
hiding the worn and the weary.

Nearly lost my grip
but no quiver in these lips.
Thoughts begin to flip
to those who wish to stand here
near the brink of futility.
Mysterious and magical.
Fanatical in flocks
just to perch upon rocks
for the ill fated photo opp.
Royal prowess through the lens.
Hash tagged the latest trends
and shared it with their favorite friends
that they barely ever speak to.
The growing need for the cusp
means nothing to one on the edge
and here I am beneath this ledge.

Once pledged my life
to a sense of security.
If it lacked congruency,
then it never knew of me.
Coincidental how the new in me
drew no contempt from truancy
pertaining to my direction.
Each emphatic inflection
would affirm the guilt in me.
Ink I've spilt to see
if it truly shares consistency
with that of bleeding limbs.
Hymns I've sung in earnest
line the logs within my furnace.
My ingrained book of lies
offer embers to the skies
and I flail like every page
in this wind and every phase
in which time dissolves my will.
We hunger for thrill;
but know nothing of the potency.
Openly we fasten to restraints
without the sufficient strength
to simply admit that we can't. 

We cannot stay strong.
We cannot hold on.
We will not hold fast
to that which will never last
sure to outlast groundless efforts
concentrated upon deserts
further than vision would suffice.
Cling to that last shard of ice.
Only then will you begin.
Subtle grin held deep within
layers woven by the skeptic
who have yet to fully accept it.
Tarry long and you will stay.
Carry on along your way
lest you hope to end this day
hung high with nothing to say.

Prayed for penance. Never peace.
The vicious cycle will not cease.
Yearned to trifle with advisement.
Learned to scoff at all chastisement.
Let the renegade have reign.
Made no provisions for pain.
Lonesome legs lay sacrifice.
Now this moment is my vice.

I will not dangle forever.
Thought that this was all for better
than the time I'd never reserve.
Lent my boastful tone some words.
Struck a pose and called it something.
Wiser mouths could tell me nothing.
Stood here at the summit struggling.
Winds of change that sent me juggling.

I truly do love this angle.
Leave me be. Let me dangle.
Mangled, marred your point of view.
Oh the horrors they imbue…………

……………pulse of spirits lacking patience.
Frantic means. Can't wait to make this
moment epic and exclusive.
From this height, all is elusive.

Everything except the fall.
In the air we lose it all.
All of that lustrous ambition
in the place of admonition,
through the air one's fate recalls
every chance you had to crawl;
pacing steps safely near summit.
Brasher bearings ensure plummet.
Air locked tear ducts. No more crying.
Being pulled as if you're flying.
Thoughts evaporate with timing.
All except those before dying.

Pulled myself up in time to view
what was surely intended for you.
Never took the time to respect this ledge.
Better over the top than over the edge.

Appreciate the view from your angle
and if you should ever dangle,
be sure to improve your sight.
It may be your last chance to stand upright.


Don't fall.
Please. †

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

"Jury Duty"

"Jury Duty"

You believe I'll Lie
yet you still say "Hi"
and if I pass by
without asking why,
then I've revealed my subscription?
And I can't say "no,"
can't board, walk or park in place
and I can't pass go?

Can I at least borrow a dollar?
Judgement warm under your collar
but you won't make change.
You deposit some conviction
with no bank in range.
Please accept this as valediction.
You are no doubt studious
but you won't like my diction.

Dubious your tradition.
It drives me up the wall
and crashes me into the pavement.
Nerves under swerve
and you can't handle the clutch.
Navigate much? Trick question.
If you've truly learned your lesson,
your path would be indicative of such.

Now I'm sure I sound absurd
so you peel back the plot
to expose my words
for the sake of your labels.
You've found solace in the fables
you have claimed as fact
and those who would react
find themselves right back
to the root yet to be dislodged.
Fastened to stints of grief
is a window from which
you have drawn your belief.

Mind and heart must collaborate.
Neither must saturate the other
lest one tries its best
to calibrate the other.
At that point, it would make sense
to cast both asunder
when what one calls correspondence
looks a lot like abscondence.
Now we lose communication
if it resembles litigation.
You won't budge and I won't nudge.
Told you I'm not here to judge
but I'm keen on observation.
Always searching for the facts
beneath everything we lack
and I know you'd do the same.

There is a differential, though:
Institutions you have named
just to mar them in persistence
will endure your flawed existence
and my purposeless retort, seemingly.
It would seem to be
an exercise in futility
to expound on one's ability
to denounce another willingly.
We converse to save face
yet we grow weary from the pace.

I rest my case.
I've taken my turn.


Court adjourned.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz