marvulusmordus

"Beneath your Steel Eyes: An Open Letter to your Sense of Humor" To you, if it concerns; In the heart of this city I have casually hollowed between skeletons and scaffolding, pigeon shit dripping and stocks ticking; Coke-sniffing indifference to my: "if you were me, for instance..." Between perfectly timed swipes and the solitude of rush hour; Between your stop and my stop, and the serenity of headphones; we stare at each other's legs. Between you and I, we could look across together. In the heart of this city I've rubbed piteous glances into my skin from creatures underground, clinging to the warmth of pamphlets and headlines. Offered?

We fetishized romance, our words wrapped in latex Could've bitten tongue but would rather swallow yours Saliva became lubricant Sweat, adhesive Would rather be submerged... looking to drown neglecting fabric bypassing pores to have found where your skin ends and your soul begins. Time is genocide to those moments, I think, as I launder souvenirs and sort memories by scent. We were close like two walls forming a corner

I Children of the broken promise land our pockets full of sand I stand for whoever I wrap my hands around... II Love died, buried in an unmarked grave anonymous in your mass cemetery of sex slaves No chains, but attach strings and it's all the same just a day away priceless, yet somehow love's still on lay-away as I write this... III Head on your chest I'll write a song to your heartbeat your navel my inkwell I'll fingerpaint the lyrics on your cheek close enough for your eyes to not see close enough for your lips to not speak but you'll know it's there exactly where love should be...

Verse 1 I plow along the margins farmin food for the soul cultivate the state of affairs yet I'm still starvin for control snatched from my mother's breast father hangin from a rope uncle sam is a child molester so I got nowhere else to go 400 year old stranger mos definite new danger stench of a savior suffocated in the manger with their noses held so high they can't smell all the anger in the depths of the melting pot breath stifled holdin rocks to deals or overthrow em heart beating like kalishnakovs under the sun once upon a time when jesus walked crossed words crucified thoughts words are spoken soft and still

Owed to the Passed (The Pollock Version) Marvin Alexis I'd write a rhyme tonight even two lines would be alright but there's too much shit on my mind and not enough paper for it all enough time? I wish, the season is fall and I resemble it all; from the gold, brown, to the red, krylon stuck to walls of the teflon heart parked where the train of thought stalls... I've gripped it like balls, blue, Surgeon with a razor tongue slips fluently Freudian? true? Never, threw em to the sky with similar hue, similar race, defeated the elite confines of space, I think we called it "Suicide", the game played to stop tim

I wrote a poem today because I didn't know what to say yesterday I still don't know what to say but I wrote a poem today

Is there? By Marvin Alexis Tattoos between His bony knuckles, His hands peeking through the gates Sitting on clouds of smog; watching… I’m a sucker for dark alleys My city’s capillaries Creases in my grandparents’ palms The perpetual tunnel in his eyes waiting for the answer My furrowed forehead as I try to find it He sits there on His crown with His head hunched over In deep thought As she walks over and plucks the syringe from His vein He doesn’t even twitch She kneels in front of him, whispers something But He isn’t interested in hearing anything So she makes her way to the restroom Leaving Him to st

She detached from the shade or rather the darkness composing her cage And in the reflection of her gaze I could see her world was a maze I sat back, clutching the cause of my stay She turned away, and in that moment I realized she was the reason I came So I decided to play her game She made her way across the lane I followed... There she stood lookin like an empty bottle contents spilled, not a drop swallowed except hope for tomorrow, she was just target practice for these nighttime arrows And I... just another one freshly plucked from the streets' quiver aimed at something else my weakness could never deliver so I was back