"Idle Thoughts Part 3: Wallpaper"

"Idle Thoughts Part 3: Wallpaper"

Your curvature my compass.
Even closed eyes honor footsteps.
My ears their accomplice;
Willing to accompany every request laden.
Perceived a maven for decisions
Made without conscious precision,
I am upholding my mantle tonight.
Few lights blink above porch steps.
Ponds darker than the last drink.
I need time to think;
But I only recall your wink
With my head buried with your sink.

Sank too deep for slumber.
No degree of hunger;
But my intrigue surely piques.
Your hands cup my cheeks
Like that of clay you've spun around.
You don't make a sound.
You have yet to say a word.
Only footsteps I have heard.
This room filled with words
That I've only read in tomes.
Secrets fill this home.
No wonder you're alone.

Phrases remain jumbled;
Only humbled in your shadow.
I feel your mystique in my marrow;
Scratching against my bone
As if I were your clone.
In that very moment,
I felt pleasure and atonement.
Beneath the pungent bile,
I can taste your contradiction.
I request valediction;
But instead, I choose to stay.
My liquor will burn away;
But not the ashes of the past.
I have seen what lasts
Flailing fresh against these walls.
I remember calls:

Late night requests from another
While over her I hover.
You climb under covers
while I recall their mother.
Haven't heard from them in years.
I can see their tears
As they sat on the back seat.
Their warmth at my feet
From each daily meet and greet
No longer their greatest feat.
My legs held within their glow
Replaced by wet socks and snow.

It's time for me to go.
There's nothing to show
And I question your feigned interest.
At your best,
you've placed guilt back on my chest
And at your worst,
You have replenished my thirst.
The bar doesn't seem so far.

Tucked you in tight
Before dimming your light.
Your countenance would glow
Like the one I used to know:

Imagined the disgrace
When I couldn't recall her face.
He who sips from an idle glass
Incurs thoughts that barely pass
When questioned for authenticity.
She was my divinity:
God's gift complete with hymns.
She was no seraphim;
But her wings would cross my heart.
Her voice like heaven's harps;
Strumming even in her slumber.

I've surely fallen under. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Home Plate"

"Home Plate" 

Hands peel back tension like doors.
Separation intangible.
This is standard for us.
You and I,
seldom locking eyes
but yearning for every glance.
Given one chance,
how much would we capitalize on?
Would wrong tarry long
so that it all felt right?
Would it be foolish to fight?
I'm not ready for the light;
so we rendezvous late nights.
Close enough to greet and speak
yet far too somber and meek.
Fingertips and body heat.
Your nails coiled within your hair
while I'm counting threads in pairs.
I'd gaze forever if you'd let me;
but this neck so weak and heavy......
heavier this air I swallow.
Still in all, I'd wax and wallow;
anxious to be here with you.
Waiting as if something new
will take over, hearts that smolder
remove boulders from our shoulders
and allow some interaction.
Incur progress with this passion.
Passive bodies, racing minds
but we're always left behind;
holding fast to run away.
Swore that we'd embrace today.
Promised I'd have things to say.
Just delay to my dismay.

Far away from where I fell,
submerged deep under this well:
fear so great I've lent it hours
pretending to harness power.
Your demeanor my consolation.
I engage the consultation:
Signs that I am not alone;
not forlorn within this zone.
Nothing gained as muscles rest.
Both enveloped at our best,
but our worst won't step aside.
We seem trapped here on this ride.
Sudden strides to walk away.
Increments between delay.
Start then stop but won't confront it.
Two hearts sinking to their stomachs.
If I leave, what have I learned?
If you leave, you won't return.
That's the outcome I will earn.
End result for all concerned.

Labyrinth of silk and sheets.
Survey slightly past your feet.
Less discreet and more for certain.
Deliberate when parting curtains.
Dubious in my design.
Breaking code and crossing lines.
Daring deviant display.
Antithesis of prior days.
Tension still slips through the cracks.
More through dripping pores and backs.
Was too nervous to relax;
now I serve til you climax.............

..............did that feel good?

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
 

"Beneath The Patches"

"Beneath The Patches"  

 

You've seen it

and I know you've seen it.

The landscape is bare,

but you pretend that its scenic.

Couldn't see the grass for the tree

yet you ravaged for free.

Silken stains from your membrane

brushed across the patches.

You're intertwined in my locks.

You mingle with my vines

even when I stand behind.

The last of this measure

only keeps you in the fields;

roaming with no purpose

aside from what is on the surface.

That's what I often fail to mention.

 

What's on your menu of dreams tonight?  

The flight. 

As you float, 

tales of the unseen in your heart. 

Making room for me there. 

To guide you, 

through trails and triumphs wins and tries, 

despising the things that say we aren't forever. 

Welcome me. 

Open arms. 

No apprehension.

Actions speaking louder than words. 

Unnecessary to mention.

 

 

If you wish to view my ledger,

it may likely serve you better

to take a third glance first.

A veritable bevy

rests on this mind of mine.

I can't conceal it all in time.

Not around you, at least.

Arose for every occasion

whether alone at home on the phone

or face to face observing grace.

I've fancied it easier

to stand this tall

when more than walls stand between us.

Forgiveness is requested.

You've bested my endeavors

to avert your calls and letters.

Leather seated near my feet.

I perspire from your feats;

marveling at my defeat.

I guess it does pay to compete...

 

I am not a worthy opponent. 

To go against the King or even the grain 

won't prove victorious for me 

and I love it. 

The agony of defeat is sweet 

when served by your hand. 

Stronger than this situation of space. 

Faster than time, 

my heart beats out a rhyme 

same cadence as your words, Love. 

The above thoughts make me smile. 

Stay awhile...

whether it be in the physical or in my mental state. 

Wait out the lonely knowing you're coated in my presence. 

Present yourself to me plainly, but coy.

Ahoy, come with me 

for you are so much more than this letter...

heart to heart, proving WE are better..... 

I presume you've seen this outcome beforehand.

Before hands graze, I am fazed.

The delay in circumstance

would not claim your chance

to implore that you stay with me.

I note the reasoning in your tone.

I've been alone among the crowds

that become increasingly loud

but the warmth of you is enticing.

Exciting as it seems,

I've yet to disclose my dreams.

I will not give way to judgement.

 

I wish silence didn't cause us to go deaf. 

I mean so so deaf 

that only our hands can drown out the sound, 

standing around in every corner 

that you failed to look. 

Around that last bend before you gave up, 

you are enough. 

I wish you knew it. 

From nothing we grew without;

sticks and stones breaking the bones that had our backs...

built this shack that covered our hearts from the beatings....

meeting me with that glance I love for it is you...

tired of wondering...

simply stated:

What you gonna do?

 

 

Everything I can if you believe me.

I'm wound up far too tight.

Can't deal with the deceiving.

Won't uphold interaction

if it serves as mere distraction

for the underlying ulterior.

I'm jaded; not inferior.

I'll peel back my interior

if it means my heart well.

The nights are long,

The rum is cold

and my heart swells.

Fear rung for years;

echoed in a well of tears

but this may be worth it.

Never met perfect.

Not face to face, at least;

but if you wish to roam these fields,

I hope to find some peace.

The wholesome has its piece.

Each piece is but a portion.

The picture clear when you are near.

Make short work of distortion.

 

Written By: Shequita Brooks and Devin Joseph Metz

"We Are Watching"

"We Are Watching"

Place pennies next to rappers
who can't wrap their minds around hip hop;
choking on the same cake
the first Poets burned at the stake for.

We are not the last ones.
We are the first to view the worst
in a world where chivalry is thirst.
We are the apex where texts mean rough sex.

We observe the dark arts:
the very savagery of hidden fantasies.
Well placed tapestry this generation calls "Thirst Traps."
Hear the claps?

You won't hear many because
they only clap long enough
to distract us from their envy.
We clip their fishnets at the seams and crush gleams.

We also have the glimmer of sinners;
but the differential is when we clap hands,
we aren't taking a chance.
We sound without our pants down.

Resound without night gowns.
Bra straps popped
in front of fitted cap merchants
who champion their sermon
while praising the vermin.

We stand as the first ignored and seldom explored.
We write sex and cause bandwidth wrecks.
We say how we feel
and you say "That's real."

We see the truth but you want the stories.
We fall victim to perception
but we are not your categories.
Skim through it all and crawl.

Before you can scrape, scratch or sprawl,
you're taught how to "catch the wall"
against those who only stand tall
to deliver to the giver.

We can see the black water
gushing from the river.
You gorge forcefully;
ready for more slight in refreshment
to infect the connected.

We are free to pay homage
to those who were in bondage
yet we swiftly trade in the reins
for shackles and chains
like the untamed for fame.

We are not the answer.
We are not protection.
We as Poets know
that most questions need direction.
Know who leads before you proceed.

He who sows the seed
cannot neglect the garden.
You have killed our roots
but the heart must never harden.
Far then, but closer to you still.

If you've had your fill,
stand with us and state your will.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Idle Thoughts Part 2: Drunken Stroll"

"Idle Thoughts Part 2: Drunken Stroll"

Sprawling through the streets
like sheets bunched together,
I've surely worn my leather
In pursuit of you.
You....prancing about in glee
So fancy and free;
Not quite cheerfully
But nowhere near demure.
Thoughts this distinctly impure
Would not be easily received.
Maybe you aim to deceive.
Maybe I should turn and leave……

Still walking.
Remaining true to whatever is due.
Refreshingly stale. Routinely new.
I guess I'm still following you.

Wrought within it all
are memories of her phone calls
Months before I spent my nights
At bar tops under dim lights.
Her my refuge from the storm;
My protection from the swarm.
Harm at bay throughout the day
Until I can steal away;
And wash away after escape.
She would snatch away my cape,
Hold me close within her grip
And kiss each tear that lined my lips……

…………your hips………
Familiar in their sway.
Quite nostalgic, one would say.
I'd be further along my way;
But this liquor stirs within me.
Balance will not befriend me.
I stumble into the street
As I begin to lose my feet.
Feeling rugged. Hanging tough.
I suppose I've had enough.
Passers by so grim and gruff.
I just dodged another truck……

And I'm still walking.
Not so resilient but true to whatever is due.
Briskly stale. Commonly new.
Looks like I'm still following you.

For sake of reason, I wonder:
Are you always this seasoned;
Pouncing without one misstep?
Two turns left
Then across the median.
I mean am………am I?
Am I part of something greater?
Will you whisper "See you later"
After leading me this far?
Can you see the scars
Underneath my shirt and slacks?
Will you invite me back?
This feels intimate and preposterous.
Erogenous you may appear;
But are you aiming to endear?

Too intrigued to trace my fear;

So I continue walking.
Steadfast and true to whatever is due.
This life so stale. Your presence new.
Why wouldn't I follow you?

Let's see what we get into…………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"The Fence"

"The Fence"

Turned off the lights
just to be certain.
Swiftly cocked my weapon
before parting the curtains.
Deafening these halls
where the stagnant scream.
Now silent after violence,
I've locked away my dreams.
The front door too heavy to hold.
Fortified dead bolts form fit the mold.
The slip latch rusts away in its groove.
Every key fits; but it refuses to move.

Dewdrops darker when the moon hides.
Whips wrap around hips. The eclipse.
The shroud cast upon iniquity.
Chilly showers rinse all divinity
as if it were mass produced.
Potential suitors have called a truce:
The stern tone that we hear
serves as a throne for their fear.
Crystal clear vision through my window.
Portrait of the consummate widow:
A bitter figure with no means
amid a dark and gloomy scene.

I have seen what lies ahead:
The streets a sea of blinding red
bred of lies that we were fed.
The fortunate are lying dead
while we toil with circumstance.
Against the fence they've danced;
prancing around what they covet.
I observe them hanging from it.
Above it the voulchers hover.
Their wings blanket the sky.
Even the brightest stars are covered.
The loosely dangling are soon smothered.

Some say they failed to realize
that they should look to the skies;
but some of them were wise.
They would not gouge their eyes.
Not willingly, at least.
I am never at peace;
but I'm certainly somewhat settled.
I've no desire to test my mettle.
Medals from my proud days
collect dust while tucked away.
Threw out the display case
the day it slammed against her face.

She used to be we.
She was never me;
but who would ever want to be?
Especially not now. I've often wondered,
how could one succumb
to the point where minds are numb
like the body it encapsulates?
How they would captivate her senseless.
Since less time spent at home,
I've found myself here alone
until the days stopped shining bright;
giving way to the darkest nights.

Walked for miles in my confusion
amid woeful destitution.
Institutions we once treasured
are now havens for ill pleasures.
Vile pollution in each camp,
prostitution running rampant,
and the youth I thought were trapped
are the ones who've proudly stamped it.
I can't find her anywhere.
Then her silhouette once fair
was riddled with sores once bare.
Leaking from them are her cares.

I observed her on her knees.
Fists full of her hair he squeezed.
He oscillates his head in splendor.
she assumes her role as lender.
Splinters stab her from the skies.
Rinsed his remnants from her eyes.
Couldn't even start to cry.
Wiped her chin then we locked eyes.
No remorse as recompense.
None of it made any sense.
They walked away; leaving me tense.
I haven't heard from her since.

The autopsy made it plain:
yet another addict slain.
Said she never felt the pain.
Scraped her off the fence again.
She met her killers in distress.
She gave them her home address.
Told them when I would return;
so as far as I'm concerned,
I'll make good her claim tonight
on this street of broken lights
and if any should take their chance,
look for them where they once danced.
 

 

















Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Idle Thoughts Part 1: First Glance"

"Idle Thoughts Part 1: First Glance" 

 

 

 

 

Strobe lights capture playful glimmers
Every time the liquor shimmers.
Bypassed sharing dessert
To skip in after dinner.
Music playing loud,
waves move through the crowd
Like soft hands through drunken clouds.
…………you just sit there.

The bar top an appealing mixture
Of colored glass and solid oak
Provoking a brief stare
Because the glass sits there.
Bottles are only passed
To fill flutes and flasks
For those requesting more
Before new faces grace the door.
The floor a sea of sweat
Washing away any regret,
Extensive stints of sorrow,
Or concerns waiting tomorrow.
Shapes bounce and break in rhythm.
Limbs find exuberance in bass.
One's vantage point is lost within them;
But I can still see your face.

Long, dark hair with a heavy sheen,
Skin pristine. Milky vanilla in hue.
Directly in my view.
Legs crossed beneath resting hands.
Fingertips reflect your glow
Like sunlight crossing snow.
I sized you up so slow
That I forgot about the show.
Paid for it in advance
But couldn't rob you of a glance.
Saw my money wasted
but found my suitable replacement.
Placement so concise
that I feared blinking twice
should your presence be removed.
It was as if you behooved
In your dubious enchantment
That my heartbeats chant with
The cadence of your grace.
Such rhythm in a still face?

This drink must be heavy.
I've had so many
That the bartender befriends me.
You whisk away quickly.
Slipping through this maze
In a daze of bewilderment,
Chilly air cleaving my pores
as I inch closer to the door
That you just stepped behind.
Barely straight lined,
My mind desperate for focus
Among this freelance flock of locusts
That have become this crowd,
Speakers still blaring so loud
As I lean against the brick...
...was this a trick?

Your silhouette fierce yet fair
And a soft, inviting pair of eyes
with lashes dark blue in hue
Silken hair in every sinew,
This from far I have observed
And what surely strikes my nerve
Is this newly apparent fact:
A motive accompanies that swerve.
Concerned barely,
You tarry far from grasp
Yet close enough to fawn over;
Only glancing above your shoulder
To make sure that I still follow.
Hollow your discernment
over your shame, my anger
Or some impending danger.

So what am I to do?
1:52 and I'm near you.
Who is tracking who?
Why this intrigue?
What of your mystique?
Will I incur a change of heart
if I continue to advance?
Should I chance this first glance…………?

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Eye Level"

"Eye Level" 

What I have to say shouldn't matter.
I'm only here for the laughter.
We'll never pretend to be
as long as it's more than we.
I'll blend in with the chatter.
We might exchange words after...
...after a few drinks,
maybe two blinks
and a visit to the sink
just before they start to think.
Profile that of salty wiles.
Our destination lost for miles.

Can't always pick up
what eventually falls over
even when we grip bolder.
Maybe we are not the holders.
Pebbles feel like boulders.
The fortitude of a soldier
can't evade the tipping point;
so what's the point?
Hapless inquiry.
Foreign vicinity for the motive.
Motivated by ulterior
and this is just the exterior.

I'll return to the bridge
for the sake of pure vision
resting just above my nose.
So much sits beneath my prose.
The withered rose will never harden
hiding deep within the garden
next to marigolds and daisies
where the perfumed air is hazy.
Yes. The lazy let you linger;
but ambition lines my fingers:
three beneath you feeling nice.
Uproot you for a cheaper price.

Sold for a steal to newer friends.
Seal the deal then wipe the lens.
Could care less for a mix in;
and if you return, I'll do it again.
Indifferent to what you conceal.
Blissfully deaf to your shrills.
Not foolish enough to display skill
for those who never could fit the bill.
You call that arrogance.
I call it ever since
blended well with common sense.
That double entendre is past tense.

So that's our conversing.
That glass you sat there nursing
is still at lipstick level.
Isn't it time to revel?
I'm sure you've heard them heckle;
calling for that fat cat.
Where's it at? Where did it go?
Where did it run to?
Shall we employ a "gumshoe?"
Did it steal your tongue too?
Is that bar stool adjustable?
Do I make you uncomfortable?

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Thursday's Remnants"

"Thursday's Remnants"

November with June hearts.
Form fits the part.
Parted ways with time
For a chance to unwind.
Playful banter.
Nervous laughter reminiscent of giggles
Trickling from your full lips.
Oft imaginary but you've become my trip.
Bypassed hips for those thighs.
Presumed to have misplaced timing.
Stared too long to employ moonlight
as the next of my excuses.
You tie my broken phrases
Like loose pieces of thread.
Your fingertips form my nooses.
Your voice that of exotic juices
Never savored before this moment.
I must find atonement.
I should be contrite.
Dark paths under these lights
And I've sized you up completely.
Moved about discreetly
hoping that you wouldn't notice.
Every man has motives;
But most men are organized.
Nothing quite devised in nature
With how I'd ravage and savor.
Lust for you my cheerful labor.

This week and I wish the sun would vanish.
Deliberate in your brandish,
you toy with your delay to my dismay.
We will have today.
Tonight is undetermined;
So don't be concerned with
What is borne of the latter.
What remains will be drawn after.

Here under this umbrella
And no cloud lines the sky.
Mid-month musing of our choosing;
Perusing through each try.
Each advance more deliberate.
You and I less considerate
of what the other would think.
Before we even blink,
our intentions take the helm.
Seldom solemn or embarrassed
Over what is surely cherished.
Your full lips as soft as air;
Eluding your hair, leaning into your chair
For a subtle hint of pear.
First kiss caressed my cares
Until they became foreign.
Sovereign in this instance;
Unscripted and instantaneous in nature.
Your scent fresh like vapor.
I exhale reluctantly.
Redundancies in revision
So I recall this moment fondly.
Found me besides myself
Yet I don't cry out for help.

Nothing more salvaged this week.
In distance we speak;
But no words in favored proximity.
These desired decadent obscenities
Have enveloped my existence.
The night is relentless
And I delight in each finish.
We will gather the remnants.

Doors slam shut through hallways.
This window remains always
To impart some ventilation.
Rapture and titillation in your moans;
Zoning out after I sink in.
Blink when it gets too deep
And I will breach your soul;
Filling each and every whole
As if I were the missing half.
Your inhibition slaughtered
For trying to steal away
Beneath these silken quarters.
Luxurious the moisture.
Warmer with each serving.
Each slight hindrance so unnerving
That pacing becomes our casualty.
Casually diverting from each established norm,
These fingertips slide and swarm
Across the curvature I've desired.
Frozen amid this fire
are the moments that led us here:
Fear and sheer excitement,
Deviant enticement,
and more thoughts than one can write with.
Mounted in my chair.
Two fists full of hair
And my grip is surely deliberate.
Delivered it in balance
But ignored all rationed portions.
Absorbed my lust whole.
Lobbied for control with sharp thrusts
Until pinned down and gutted.
Looking back full and flustered
As if to request more rigor.
With requited vigor,
I invoke your stern request.
We perspire as if required like that of badge and vest
And silence was not tolerated.
Bent over and dilated,
you strain through desired pain.

You don't refrain until I'm drained.

Grace mixes well with intention.
Abhorrent means are contradiction
and I am no one's fabrication.
Approval and elation
I could claim as insurance
but I'd rather your endurance.
Assuredly, the future looms
Along with hope of returning soon.
I will recall your nervous laughter
With what residuals are left.
The taste of you still fresh years after.
Should you return, we'll enjoy the rest. ;)

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Letters From Gatsby"

"Letters From Gatsby"  

Never heard what my neighbors say.
I'll stand at this bridge each day.
These waters still yield reflection;
But the brightest stars offer no direction.
Whether dark or bright in hue,
the sky will reserve a light for you.
My days spent where life stands still
And nights full of gorgeous lights and thrill.
Mere pomp in comparison, my dear
Until the day that we draw near.
Hope rests under that green light.
Forgive me, love. I still fight
With whether or not the choice I made
Was ever worth the price we paid.
More troubles than anyone can find
Rest within this troubled mind.
The colors are dull. Nearly dead.
I see what once was instead.
Shame left me few choices.
No doubt I've heard their voices.
Common men in the company of your grace
And I among them all had little to keep pace.
Whether or not my acts are true,
I've fashioned my life for you.
After navigating squalls,
I rebuilt these blighted walls
For when you come back someday
and implore that you will stay.
Say to me that you believe
Beyond what logic conceives.
Mr. Carraway says my time runs short,
But I respond "Nonsense, Old Sport."
Nothing closer to my grasp
Than those hands I've longed to clasp
tight and warm across my heart.
I know little of these fresh starts.
At this bridge my dreams are cast.
Bittersweet remnants of the past.
Made some moves and left a few scars
All for nights under these stars
Where I can't help but wonder
If a love presumably tossed asunder
was the victim of mere circumstance
Or possibly my greatest blunder.
I've less resolve to match my will.
Time will tell but too much kills.
I pray that distance will stand aside.
Until that day, there's time to bide.

You've never left my heart, Daisy.
I hope that I still have yours.

Jay. ♥

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz