Saturday, July 29, 2017

"Crimson Lake"

"Crimson Lake" 

As sure as Shinobi swings his blade,
this circumstance to which you're enslaved
will cost the loss of those accosted
in your ill fated persistence. 


The swan is only red
after it has bled. 


Harsh weather
formed the feathers
in the bed the Maiden lays in.
Ways and weird angles
astray as limbs dangle
over puddles thicker than origin.
Predicament sworn to sin
committed in repetition.
Never cared to listen;
even through the chaste
as if deliberate actions are not anchors
that make it easy for your past
to finally reach out and tarnish.
That coat you claim as varnish
no more than a bright target
in the dark for one to see. 


You are nothing because of me. 

The swan is only red
when it is severed from its head. 


Lifelong fondness and familiarity
can barely now be called an acquaintance.
The simplistic similarity
is the charity you will be denied.
Thought you knew when to hide
and when to lunge your beak.
That silence from whence you speak
sprung the first leak from your veins
to impart chains of damnation.
You will enjoy no liberation
while wrung between knuckle and fist.
You may bob to dodge
but round the wrist
your neck will lap
until the snap. 


Fitting, perhaps. 

Thought you'd respond to the slaps
that came after forewarning.
Conflict your anointing
and consequence your bread from Heaven
you run the risk of choking on.
Your grace? Your wiles?
Replaced by trials.
Would smile and used to sing awhile
but now,
no words were said.
Ruby ripples instead
no more luminous than rust on coral.
Air once fresh and floral
closer crept now to the fowl stench
and how drenched were you before
the ocean floor was yours instead?
The last of comfort in your dread
spent in the dirt near river beds. 


Your life proclaimed what was said:


















The swan is only red
after it is dead. 


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

"The Imposing Climb"

"The Imposing Climb"

Voice suddenly ceased
behind my thickest layers.
The barrier. ...

Signal loss.
Dead tone.
No carrier for you to relay
what I've heard you say
more times than I care to replay.
We crumble.
Decay
with every unwarranted attempt
as if your interests at heart
were truly interests of the heart
after the start was faint and frail
where you would cuss between the yells
where I am burdened
to get a word in.
One meager sentence.
Your spite relentless
and I have run out of energy.
No curiosity to find
what new excuse you've had in mind.
I can finally stop
and breathe
behind this wall....


I thought we had a connection.
But you never cease to amaze me.
Maybe I read too deep into things.


No. I didn't.

You were supposed to
have my back but I retract
my previous statement.
Strategically placed slights
of the tongue audible to the heart.


Deafening.

I shall regain the time
that once was mine.
But it's quite trivial to go back
to make corrective actions now.
Serrated edged memories would
do more harm than good remembering.


I defer.

To cower back to my stopgap.
Momentary fix for what I truly want.
But that isn't plausible anymore.
So behind the wall I shall remain.


The membrane
that you believe breaks away
when you scratch and slam
through the curse and damnation
that you heave upon it
barely chips away
with what you do
and what you say.
Damage delays
and words decay
before they reach me.
Nothing more valuable
that you've sought to teach me
than the quality of silence
when violent means are stirring.
Insulting barbs you're hurling
cannot climb this height
and your flight is mismanaged.
Advantage was never the end
to some means of justification.
I'll firmly stand.
Life can reprimand.
I am supported in fortification.


So this is my deposition.
Because things seem to
be spiraling out of control.
Accumulation of
twisted promises
which bored into the trust.
Quite the misshapen misfortune.
Do I dare to wonder what
was to become of us?
To gaze upon those eyes
I once saw forever in
but that's not entirely true, is it?
What I saw was the reflection
of my hopes masquerading
as your beautiful face.
Intuitive over rationalization
in collaboration with the
physicality of what was tangible
prompted me to
fall to your guile.
What has now materialized
is the self reassurance to
sever all tempestuous feelings.
And the time has come to put
asunder what was intended.




 























Written By: ~ Twin Monks ~ (Eric Gumas Jr & Devin Joseph Metz)

Thursday, June 22, 2017

"Overcast"

"Overcast"

You only recall me
when the wind howls
and the fowl disperse for shelter....

In the dreary I find your beauty.
Something to look forward to
when I can't even push forward
through this measure of torrents.
The anticipation torments me
as much as your absence
when I sense the warmth
replace those turbulent winds
with such stale calm by night's end
just before daybreak.


I only feel your presence
when the showers are
present in my town.
I look around at shallow crowds
and watch ponchos
and raised hoods
that resemble cowls
meant to dry their faces
all while I stand
to embrace you willingly.
I'd wonder if you were hearing me
long before thunder rolled through.
Surely you'd answer,
right?
Am I to hope that squalls endure
much longer than this night?
Why must my world's vision be
marred amid the wind
for me to clearly see you again?


You won't come to visit
if dark clouds will imbue
no blue and white streaks
to illuminate your path to me.
I imagine catastrophe
possibly impeding your advance to me
as if you aren't the
most familiar force of nature
that has ever drawn this close to me
so what semblance of
undisturbed condition of current
and darkened, dry pavement
gives you any conceivable limit
that would make sense of your
displacement from me?


If not for your delight
in wiping the mist
that would gently kiss my face,
you'd know nothing of this place.
Wouldn't recognize the streets
without the lights
through the downpour.
You would never smell the grass
encouraged by your steps
to eventually grow more
in the strength
that is your nurturing touch.
If nature were vocal,
the trees,
the air,
even the birds
that would usually take cover
would be sacrificial in hover
before you
to implore that you
understand that I need
more of you
than the forecast would render.
I'm tired of imagination.
I no longer pretend;
whispering to myself
"It's okay. I don't need her."
whilst cursing the sun itself
in all of it's radiance
for it's role in the slow burn
of what is left
of our brief encounters.


If not for the rain,
I'd eventually embrace the pain
and forget about the harm
of having to miss my storm
each time
all over
again.


Soak everything.
Anything.
Everyone.


Everything that would stand between us.



 













Come back to me.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

"Corners"

"Corners"

Salve on the gashes
but rubs become scratches.
These lashes. ...

They itch.
I fiddle and twitch
just to stop
but the switch
again flipped
and I'm peeling.


I'm kneeling.
Hard surface.
Punished as I trifle.
I'm kneeling in service.
Decrepit Disciple.
I'm kneeling in purpose
but just not in purpose.
I'm frightened.
I'm nervous.
It hurts
and you've heard this.


Nowhere I can go.
The door is wide open
but where will I go?
I'm morbid.
I'm moping.
The wounds are still open
so I can still crawl
but I don't move at all
though I long for the fountain.
Condition that I'm in
is at best malnourished.
Can't recall when I've flourished
without a few sips.
I've bent
and
I've dipped
and
I've cried from the pain


I've thought "Not again"

but that whip
and that chain.
Each strike so concise
still engraved in my brain
stained like walls
and the floor.
Each time a bit more
with raised head as you shove.
You're standing above
and I'm looking for love.
Through grimace I've traced
as I wince,
blink
and then look for some grace.
Wish for mercy misplaced
as you batter my face.


The "why" I am wondering
while balled up recovering...
...a question left hovering
that hurts more than whips
feels as cold as these chains.
Answers complex and plain
yet I cannot explain
why I can't reach these keys
barely high on the shelf.
I'm furthest from freedom
but I still try to reach them
until snatched by your hands
as you slam me beneath them.
Removed from myself.
Can't move by myself.
I look up amid danger
to see you in your anger
and still beg for some help
but I'm begging.......
.................. myself....




 



















Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Thursday, June 15, 2017

"Lack Thereof"

"Lack Thereof"

Lord knows
but I'm afraid to ask.
Recalling tasks I've vowed ...

that remain incomplete now.
Peeled from the mattress
reluctantly to my feet now.
My peace
but a piece I'm forced toward
to chase after
the waste
after
a taste
and long after procrastination.
Aggravation in my wiles
when my trials are self-manufactured.
Stints of joy and laughter
No more earned
than the bridges that burned
when I feigned concern.
I took my turn
and I'm still not finished?
Meant well but demolished.
Momentum diminished
and I can only hope to replenish
while praying that this is not my penance.


Lord knows
but he won't say.
Won't stay hinged to my wishes
when the business isn't handled.
Thought to channel it all
behind walls
Indian style
in consistent proclamation
that it may take a little while
longer.
The longer I've longed her
who says that I've wronged her
without ever exchanging words.
Hurtful things I've heard
about how men exist
as the stress that she insists
we've always given gleefully
to thee
but can't retort with
"That's not me"
for being told we're all the same.
Doubt you even know my name
but wherewithal
to tack on shame
has made diamond this plastic frame
and we can't even scratch the surface
anymore.


Lord knows
and I implore
that he gives me something.
Anything to look toward.
Inquiry just as hard
of an undertaking
as the wait itself.
Taught never to question
but if life has its lessons
and I'm still missing answers,
I can't pander to the dogma.
I know what faith is evidence of.
I trust the above
to preserve the lower than
but I'm older than the teachings
and the motive
less misleading
and more melancholy
is probably hardly worth the call
honestly
because it's increasingly hard
to distinguish between
the want for some direction
or the need for an excuse
that makes sense of this dereliction
from that which demands my patience.


I can't just say
"Another Day"
like the time is for purchase.
Things to say but I'm nervous.
Way too close to the furnace
than I might have perceived.
Lost on what I believe.
Loss I frequently grieve
when what I've achieved
does not align with my aspirations
or the boastful proclamation of such
but sadly,
I can't say
and I won't rush
what will come my way.




 















Apparently,
Lord knows too much.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

"Lesser Nights"

"Lesser Nights" 

One half block between
my body and the damage.
Stared at the wreckage
since the landing.
Where I'm standing,
hands are fanning
blowing harder
cups of water
that should be buckets.
Wouldn't touch it at gunpoint.
One point can't justify the next
if unrelated to the previous.
Needing this logic
like the neediness:
Violent to a fault with a purpose.
Blacked out as if I've purchased
less time to process.
Stake driven through the progress
so life is chill until the next thrill. 


Smoke and heat becomes sunset
but not yet.
Things to say
and words to do.
Phrases I'd perform on who
like delicate experiments.
Mellow in my madness.
Fellow following her black dress
laden with accessories
likened to well placed necessities.
Noticed me and then my grin.
Whiskers underneath my chin
yet you draw near,
confide within
and say that I'm your favorite sin.
Next speed on the blender.
Siphoned through the spinner.
I can't win this far away.
Sinner can't sin in delay
and now who is gone....


........alone now.
At the rave to misbehave
but I'm trapped inside this cave.
No numbers saved
or face for that matter
so I navigate the maze
hopeful for familiar chatter
to lead me away from lights.
Heaven bless me.
Epilepsy.
Bright and mean.
Neon green.
Meshing hues.
Orange and Blue.
Tables floating.
Walls that flow.
Nauseous tremors.
Vertigo.
Time to go but can't close tabs yet.
Should've noticed tablets
floating in between the cubes.
Neat or rocks?
They let me choose
my hair of the dog.
I'm not hungry. System clogged.
Room still spinning but they've logged
every sip it seems.
Slipped my hands into my jeans.
Zipper undone. Ripped a seam
and the cash is gone. 


Song I used to sing
while hoping for a video
but then it goes dead.
In my own head
I've defined those lines
as issues with confinement.
One I would ride with
to make fact of opinions
when one who assumes control
throws away those preferred roles
as if destiny is under contract
but at a premium with personal contact.
Clocked that
and just chose to bide time.
Here one finds the cold sweater
wearing his hot clothes.
It was not over
but I knocked over
this clock colder
than bedside water.
Lost that charm
and incurred harm.
Blaring alarm forcing me to embrace this day
when I just wished to run away.
Back.
Far back.
Back to whatever the opposite of this was.... 




















Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Saturday, April 15, 2017

"The Village"

"The Village"

Place I've come to like
after just visiting once.
Would stroll past cars and bikes. ...

Never rode there once.
Drawn long across those ten minutes
bypassing big business,
Mom and Pops
and all the hipster hangouts
where regulars would stay out
until panhandling garnered success.
Saw a girl I went to school with.
Sometimes shorts.
Sometimes sundress
but always only on the way.
Had as many words to say
as when I had that crush on her
but that was way back when.
Opposite direction of the barber shop
where friends from my childhood would stop
and share their account of nothing
and everything at the same time
until the local artist gets exposed
for using a different beat
with the same rhyme.
Can't determine if
I made this walk
around the same time
in my stints of frequency
but I would frequently
try my best to stay late.
Knew I'd gone too far
if I crossed the intersection.
Convenient placement of the sign.
Blocks away,
not hard to find
if one would take the time
to simply look up.
Took up the senses
in my nostrils first.
Pungent potpourri of spices
set on enticing my thirst.
Hint of sugar slightly flavored
I'd breathe in layers passing merchants
No more for me this moment
than price tags attached to purses
purchased by those aiming to impress
but I digress.
Would sip to sort out life's grand scheme.
Would sip again and before the end,
the evening dream that once gleamed
would seem
to last as long as the steam
blown away before each taste.


Place I've come to love
before long
like an old song.
Nostalgic.
New affection I'd have found
before returning there.
Scent of her hair
played fair with the aroma.
Routine all her own:
Fruit tea,
Vanilla scone
and the subtle rush of color
washing over her face
as she drew her mug near.
Sight so familiar
I've only ever seen after we've kissed.


Reminisced while stirring slow.
Lonesome now where lights once glowed.
Memory I'm too strained to show.
Years since I've been inclined to go
by myself.




 













What does it really take...

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Sunday, April 9, 2017

"Rum Before Reisling"

"Rum Before Riesling"

Everything is yours
I don't wanna think anymore
tired of the fight
fed up with the back and forth
close the door and lock me in
would it really be a sin
to make my heart your slave
would it really kill you to just let me in
can we just focus on
what we feel
embrace the moment for
what it is
and let time fall still
like raindrops on a window sill
quiet beats of a love
that seems too real
I don't wanna give up
so hurry with the liquid courage
brown liquor
red cup
filled with promises to make this last forever
never remembering
this moment is all we have
this moment is one we can't get back
hush - I don't wanna talk any more
everything is yours.


Anything I want
except for the daunting.
Your haunting.
Your tossing about.
Flaunt that freedom in front of me
and I will make you want for me
as playful as I am with your desperation
as the mirage in the desert.
Can't tell where one ends hurt
or even where the pain begins.
Grinning when you should grimace,
optimism said you'd win this.
You'd do well to mind your limits.
You've felt each sip.
You've soaked in spirits,
sulking winless sunken shine.
Sharp the itch upon my spine
when you say you've had your time
but still search as if you'll find.
You are bound:
high-strung with nerve
defined by what you may deserve
so how dare you contend with taunt
to give me anything I want?
Who are you?


Who am I?
Who are we?
In our drunken states
too much liquor
can cause blood to rush
and the undoing of zippers
goes down
just a little quicker
than when sober thoughts prevail
when taunting turns to chase tales
of past lives
marked by creamy thighs
that are thick enough to save lives
all the while, we tease the limits
back and forth
teetering on the lines
as I push back into it
fists grab hair by handfuls
just to guide the motions
we've drank enough to fill oceans
and the motions make what we see
a tad bit blurry
but hurry - I don't want to wait any more
what is mine, is yours.


The mind implores
what the heart ignores
but the portions poured
make that struggle unappealing.
A peeling...
appealing, the danger...
anger that strips away
revealing to lips that say
"Fuck It."
I can't duck it anymore.
Done with the chore of brooding.
I'm not proving
anything by not moving
closer to what you know I need.
Perceiving past stints
where your eyes squint in pleasure
felt deep between organs
in angles one could never measure...
Straight. Not mixed.
A little ice.
Let me pour.
I'm done ignoring the signs.
I've taken time
now mine is yours.

























Written By: Kiana Donae & Devin Joseph Metz

Thursday, March 30, 2017

"Bleached, Faded..."

"Bleached, Faded..."

Found the middle of our hottest days.
Forgot then remembered how to pray.
Cold sip sitting on the porch.
Meals would be arriving soon.
Said we'd be ready for the change.
Just waiting to see a purple moon.
Impatience rose and inhibition moved.
Nasty sex in the last room.
Air conditioned to chase the steam.
This must be exactly as it seems
or I at least would like to lay and dream
as long as I can.
Thoughts and plans.
Thought we'd planned our getaway
from less purposed days.
Figured out what words to say.
Practiced til blue in the face.
Recited then rewrite it
then recite it once or twice more.
Knees and palms on the floor.
Taking me amid shoes and jeans.
Twice that night before games.
Love and Lust
and all the same.
Insane how much I thought we knew.
Convinced that we truly grew.
Couldn't see the dark for the colors.
Concentrate on one.
Ignore the other.
The end smothered by hopes and wishes
and the wettest kisses
on lips so syrupy and viscous.
Fast forward from then for a reason.
Never really paid mind to the seasons
until my desperate case made for overtime.
Hoped it would work out over time
and it did
but
not how we expected.
Requiem for the neglected.
Accepted you as what I knew I wanted
while becoming what you don't deserve.
You get on my nerves.
How I wish the swerve
was much more deliberate.
Delivered it as "remember when"
between friends
still fawning over more than.
More than some years since
and a stolen glimpse
still invokes the reminisce
but the lights aren't as bright
and that moon is still white
and you still can't see
past yourself without me.
The biggest reason to forever doubt we. 




















Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Saturday, March 25, 2017

"Reservoir"

"Reservoir"

Lower than tone.
Your incessant screams on repeat
No higher than the seat
you were convinced is your throne.
Down deeper than bones
archeology can't dig up.
Promise that when I sit up,
you won't force me to get up
as I am not guaranteed
to be solid when I land.
The pilot has plans premeditated
but the free falling
can only hope to be sedated
before smacking the pavement. 


Low like the thoughts
that accompany depression.
Lasting impression.
If left to your discretion,
this session would be brief.
The conventional discomfort
that mixes well with grief
and a hint of disbelief
has shaped your view of me.
Don't latch on to everything you see. 


Down like knees over the glass
and the shrapnel
with hands tightly clasped
and pain ravaged eyes to the sky
begging for something whole
deserving less than half full.
Emotion the handful
that escapes when you squeeze.
Slow leak on snow peaks
dripping down into the valley. 


Lower than trash in the dark alley.
Had today's dinner in my savvy
state of manufactured grace
but a lid across the face
and a knee to the gut later
and I'm no more fit
than I was when I begged for favors.
Surviving in the distance
by staying that far away
from the surface.
My purpose set
to be ignored and stepped over. 


Who is lower than me? 

Maybe she is. 

Flung to the wall
or deep into the bed
head down
drowning sound
despite deliberate defiance
until somber silence.
A sullen science
one must be at their lowest
to voluntarily lust after. 


Who is lower than she? 

Maybe he is. 

Pressed to the hood
observed in a hood
objectified and hunted in the hood
perceived as commonplace for no good.
Headbutt against wood and metal.
Testified that he was known to mettle
with the bright lights,
sirens
and shiny medals
sworn to protect.
No word of the neglect
to duty in dubious derelict
until incited and blown over
by people forced to love living lower. 


How low can one be... 

Lower than the stool
one stood over
tipped over
kicked over
by the tips of toes that longed to float
pulled too far down not to choke
provoked and
tired and
hopeless.
No guess unless defined
by the much more deranged
as simply a disturbed mind
that lacked social interaction.
Brisk, surprised reaction
without sufficient dedication to memory. 


Who are we?
Depth can't recall.
We were taught from the crawl
to finish on our feet
but when forced to our seat,
we are closer to hands and knees
than we would be
had there been incentive
to remain standing
without the painful landing. 


Low like the dust.
Down like the gear
too worn from the rust
to trust with progression.
The blurred lines between
recession,
obsession,
depression
and regression.
With an ear to the ground,
do you even hear a sound
from me? 





















Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Monday, March 20, 2017

"Darker Ribbons"

"Darker Ribbons"

Billowing across her face....
.... pillow soft those lips I taste
whenever we get close.
Subtle scent that dissipates.
Funk that cannot be erased.
I cannot ignore her chase.
Obvious as when one craves
what they aren't ready for.
Seated ready for a new dimension
but intervention looms..


Not like she found me
speaking loudly in these quiet rooms.
Not like I found her
through the shroud that is this cloudy room.
Not like I'm able to easily
detect her perfume anymore.
Either way,
time extends the day
when she opens the door 


but air does not embrace me. 

This is too much.
I need distance
but I can't take it:
Too much distance.
Close to touch as blood may rush
but I may choke. 


Too much smoke.

Planned I have to tell the truth
but when lips part,
low hanging fruit
silences tone and inflection.
Peach flavored sweet confection
dangling in front of the tongue
that cares enough to tell her.
Days I would regret her
end up with us feeling better
doing what we wish...
...dish served warm beneath covers
but my lover loves her habit
just as much if not more.
Not so lonely when that door creaks these days.


Told her it would kill in hope she'd panic
but instead,
she raised her head,
said "It's organic"
as if she planned it. 


Don't understand it.

Thought something was wrong with me.
Just before she'd come for me
and after she'd cum for me
she'd reach out for some comforting
but not without consistent light.
Not without a cough each night.
Not a day salvaged in hope
that we would rest without a fight.
It's not right but we're not wrong.
Annoying like your favorite song
drawn slow through ears.
My recent fear indecent
just for what it means:


It would seem I fear for health
but like the rich still chasing wealth,
I run after the feeling
without revealing the shame. 


We are the same:

She's aware of a tension so fresh.
Strands of her hair
like the grain of her flesh
enveloped by this barrier.
My heart is unfit to carry her
but what love won't raise
lust will hold down.
What will be in the end
won't be known now
or much later, hopefully.
I hope that we can heal.


Broken bricks can build nothing solid.
This love is real
but love this violent
is fatal when passive. 


















We don't have much beneath these ashes...

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Friday, March 17, 2017

"Stones Against The River"

"Stones Against The River" 

Sunset significant to slower pace.
I swear,
we've been giving chase
for months worth days now.
How we've seemingly drawn closer
is a farce to perception.
Distance will not yield
no matter how high we build
and scale to bear proof.
The roof was once a sky
for eyes that looked past never
giving chase to forever. 


Dust and smoke.
What was left of the path
provoked by expediency.
Decency measured by time
instead of sensibly by tread.
Concepts crashing, cloudy,
dry and blood red.
Well to do is dead
and the clearer head hangs lifeless.
Began living less as if
such sacrifice would bring proximity.
What sense are we
if to be,
we neglect the need to see
the circle that will not cease? 


It takes a crease in time.
A welcome wrinkle in monotony
to draw away from hopeless
and peer into possibly.
Positivity aside,
is it the ride or the destination?
Wherein rests this fixation?
Is there elation in the pretentious
chase set forth to merely thrill us?
Are we at peace with just contentious
to the point where progression kills
if we would dare look to reach for it?
Is the never ending race the true forfeit?
Can we even afford it anymore? 


Pretty thoughts are novelties
that time will see corrode and rust.
Must melds with the mold
and this path, crackling and old
with each day will just erode
until only stories are told
in our boastful, bold tone
of how close to home we truly were.
The scene observed
better seen than heard
should be seen then heard
lest perceived absurd
or old
as tales over tea and whiskey.
To miss me
and none of the experience
would mean far less in respect
to what we've claimed in this instance.
To miss you
but none of the moments trapped in time
would barely conceal the rift
caused by this paradigm.
Can't reason with a rhyme
so out of place but not erased.
We just don't have the time
so in spite of the risk, 


















we chase. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Saturday, February 11, 2017

"Impasse"

"Impasse" 
 
Reminded of the fall
so far from the summit.
It seemed so often that I plummet
that I wonder who watches anymore.
Any more liquor
before I'm delivered
to the top again?
I'm so high.
Free flying above the bullshit,
the President,
pulpit
and the precinct I've seen
more than street signs.
Can't recall when I last reclined
given this bed held up by screws.
Back reinforced yet bruised
as tough as leather when you step down.
Feet of yours like
that of Persians
which have never touched ground
that would not be conquered. 


I wear labels of dishonor
with no proof of dereliction.
One may ignore the connection
but the direction must be followed.
Tears we've had to swallow...
...choking back
with broken back.
My son asked why.
You shot him back.
My sister cried
while on her back.
I press.
I try.
You take it back
long before I can touch it
and wonder why they say
"Fuck It."


What I covet is my life.
Built your nation in our strife.
Killed my father,
Raped my wife
and told me to pay the price
for this mess. 


This....stress.....
...distressed and angry
as you have made me....
...obsessed and aching.
At best,
it changed me.
So when you claim we
are not the manner of political
capable of reaching the pinnacle,
make note of the cynical look
because you never took the climb
from what I can recall
but what we know is when we reach high,
you will campaign until we fall.


What's it like being colored in America?
Being told that everything your ancestors
fought and died for still isn't yours.
Laws that's been passed that
were never meant to include you.
People in positions of power positioned
to protect us, ignore our cries.


Living in a world that pretends
to want you to succeed.
Tailored made obstacle courses
retrofitted with obscurities.
Three strikes and you're out.
Jail cells constructed to not only
confine the body but; dismantle the mind.
... cell by cell.


System set up to make you fail.
Indoctrination is a weapon
of mass destruction.
Force feed propaganda.
Porous mendacity at every turn.
Double-dealing politicians.
Everyone's against you.
Media set in place to bedim your vision.
Can't trust them.


Hands up, don't shoot. I can't breathe.
Those actions and words don't
mean a thing to a officer of the
law with a hard on for justice and
an itchy trigger finger with only
his superiority complex to guide him.
Intruding into your personal space.
Question. 

How can you resist arrest for being put under arrest for not committing any crime?
Infringement of the highest degree.

Ostracized from that of what
one would consider a human being.
Things we've created..
First, looked at as obscenity.
Next it's reverse engineered.
Then, you guessed it, 

it becomes alternative facts. 

But yet, with battered hands,
contorted backs, and with
feet that have become threadbare.
We have endured all.


Now, with fist raised high, it's time
to begin our accession to the summit.
The Revolution is upon us.
























Written By: Eric Gumas and Devin Joseph Metz

Friday, February 3, 2017

"Blinks For Whispers"

"Blinks For Whispers" 

Still think of you when I smile.
Embrace in a dark room.
Stolen glances under bright moons.
Light appears but retreats soon.
Looked at me as if viewing the world.
Drew away once the phase turned.
My favorite days before the world burned. 


These were not the things you told me.... 

Out of town on the last night.
Sacrificed for the turnaround.
No chance of a cheap flight.
Stayed here instead of hotel rooms
yet we're further away than midnight and noon.
Grabbed the phone just to plug it up.
Ignored what I wouldn't cover up.
Reclined and pulled the cover up.
Maybe this time I've had enough. 


These were not the things you told me....
.....how would you.....


Resting there with your hair down.
Felt dismissal in the air now.
Early flight in a few hours.
Could've sworn it was the next day.
Seemed fit to be a rest day.
These really weren't our best days
and the best way to convey it all
would be to say it all
but I wait and stall
and I lose my chance..... 


.....hands hide deep in the pockets.
Fingers often move when I speak
but the words to speak remain
etched in walls across my brain.
I hope they never breach where confined.
The mind won't mind
but the tongue is not willing.
This is killing me
and knowingly, 


These were not the things you told me...

No heads up for it all.
No safety net before the fall
and the ceiling looks like the wall now.
Let me lay.
Wouldn't let myself say
that I'd never let this go
and I'd never let you know
even when it starts to show.
Matte replacing the glow.
What was new now feels dusty.
How I feel when it's just me
searching everywhere that answers must be.
Can't say that I trust me
with this much me.
Just too much, see.
You just thrust me into this void
where the only noise heard
are the unspoken words:


Told me that my love was a gift.
Said that my love caused the rift.
Told me that I should be strong.
Said that I took too long.
Told me that patience isn't perfect
but said that the patience wasn't worth it.
Told me that this life is full of lies.
Pledged the truth to look into my eyes.
Said that I should ask then demand.
Told me that I'd never understand.
Spoke of healing when I felt my worst.
Certain wounds just couldn't be nursed. 





















All these truths I wish I never heard
even when you've never said a word...


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Sunday, January 22, 2017

"20/20"

"20/20"

I sat too close to the screen
and it claimed some vision.
Sight held ransom.
Paid quite the handsome price
to suffice with these frames
and suffer through these names
I've now grown numb to.
So much from you
I've had to endure
in a distortion as pure
as this saline solution.
Said I'd gain my retribution
but I don't think I want it
now. 


I
just
wanted
to
see.
Imagined life through the monocle.
Focused and trained the eye that goes
wherever this mind would have it. 


For what it's worth,
I keep them clean.
I channel surf through TV screens
and study long on what is seen
as worthwhile among the peers.
These years have been different since
insurance covered every cent
so that this world would make some sense
at least from where I sat....
"Who is that?"
"What are those?"
"What's worse: his posture or his clothes?"
"They sit crooked on his nose."
"How could he see to read his prose?"


I suppose,

...I
just
wanted
to
be
anyone
or anything
or any way but me.
The right inclined and will to see
I've now ignored vehemently.
Saw what they saw
so I hid from me. 


Emerged from
the dirge of my depression
with lessons learned in fear
prolonged like the essence burned til seared
into my mind certain and clear
as my reflection
as they rest upon my ears.
Years made a fad of the forlorn.
Once scorned now lauded.
Applauded even.
Receiving what I have no use for
now.
Remembered how
but you're forgetful now
and I find that entertaining
amid the maiming with your games
and barely recalling my name
except when exacting some shame
to promote your own effort to fame.
You see me.
You always have
and I am now
what you'll never have the chance to be.
Fancy me in my frame
when your she recalls my name
but would exclaim yours in intimacy. 


I
am
all
of
me
and you can't even examine yourself.
Lies are not fair to the health
or the eye sight
so while you fight through the tears,
think of one among your peers
that once had to choke them back,
turn around and not push back
just to preserve what you now lack. 


Protect your face when fate attacks.
Don't break that frame.
They won't take it back....... 




















Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Sunday, January 8, 2017

"Candle Wax"

"Candle Wax" 

Raining sideways.
The bulk of my days
spent searching for the sunlight.
This mud might be the blessing.
A lesson taught yet ignored
here on the floor
with this wet book of matches.
The drapes
match the skies
and my disposition.
Envisioned a much brighter place.
Felt that to hide my face
would be protection from the rays.
Now I'm content concealed from days
in ways most introverts would question. 


Impression
in my mind
in my head
in that bed
sunk deep into the fabric.
Figured me elastic:
circling back with the charm
that always guaranteed some harm
to one
or many
of the select few
who knew I'd soon return for rest
but even the best of my acquaintances
could not have possibly foreseen
exactly where I've been these days. 


Would raise up from any position
to make sure it glistens.
Listened as fingers snapped.
Waited for the scratch
that would give way to clarity.
I would practice nights
but tragically
had no similar effect on illumination
at first
but in my worst of determined works,
both ends would smolder.
I the holder
in control of absolutely nothing.
I hoped it would last
as long as my pride
but in my ways,
I have learned that the day
will not delay for me.
What I can see
is relative to my portion of time
and mine would be considered mismanaged. 


Fortunate for the darkness
as no one can see the tarnished
remains of what I took for vain
until maimed further than I can bandage.
This source of power damaged
and sticky in my hands.
Used to burn bright where it would stand.
Ignored the breeze or ceiling fan.
Made clear the path to my demands so hollow. 























Now what have I to follow? 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz