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I just dont give a fuck

I just dont give a fuck

I just dont give a fuck

I rushed past all those damn yellow ribbons they put up
I didn’t care when my shoe got stuck
Standing here, with one shoe and you dare to ask me if I’m sure
You’re like a doctor asking a patient if he truly wants a cure
I’m past dying I’m at a special place where I crave the understanding of me
Not the bullshit of who I am, but what circulates in those small particles of my soul’s energy
Tend to dismiss what isn’t a possibility so the sky is forever empty to me
My urges only valid if they can create any kind of opportunity
So let me pass, because this cliff looks too damn inviting to let slip
Don’t worry about the blood on my hands, that’s from a previous trip
The knife in my pocket is a mere souvenir from a misguided opinion
He proclaimed immortality and I intended to help him prove his conviction
The dried red stains on my shirt are from love that got twisted out of shape
No it wasn’t rape, it was just a simple misunderstanding of being too late
Too late to care, too late to help, too late to even be too late
And yet you still stand here, asking me if I deserve to leap
Do you truly think my will is that weak
That the mere hint of the night creeping up on me
Is enough to deteriorate my passion for insanity
Who do you think I am
You must be one of those fools who thinks everything is planned
Whose only comfort in this chaos is that there is an invisible hand
Well, this machete is to clip its fingernails and remove that sand
Because the desert left by its interference is what you call destiny
And I just told you, if there aren’t any chances its empty
Now move
If you wish to keep that apple in your throat
Move
Or the river Styx will keep you afloat
Get out of my way
If you believe that your body has enough parts in it
Step aside
If you think that beat of yours has more hits to get
I will run, I will go and I will stop once my mind tells me to
This limit you represent is fiction, myth, lies, untrue
They say evil doesn’t deserve any remorse
But who decides whats evil? The winner of course
But how can you give the win in a game still in play
Evil has yet to be decided regardless of what the weak say
Let them scatter their empty laws, spread their corrupt smoke
I hope they inhale their own hypocrisy for once and choke
I crave freedom of it all
I need to fall
I need to fly
I need to feel the wind kiss my face
I deserve whatever is at the end of that place
I want to hear the clouds sing
I want my ears to ring
I want to explode from fear
I want to erode my sight till everything is crystal clear
Let me through
This has never been up to you
I crashed through walls they built in an effort to halt my pace
But my shirt pocket holds my lucky ace
Cant lose, cant stop, cant quit, cant go back
The darkness has always kept me on track
So let me dive in and see what it truly holds
Your weak warnings are but a promise yet to unfold
Stay away because so and so
Its dangerous, its not a place where you should go
You haven’t heard of such and such
The threats that lurk in the clutch
All of that is mere fodder for an army blind to flames
If this is truly the end, let my history carry my name
I need to move forward, I don’t care what might occur
That’s my word
I just don’t give a fuck


Yes, I just dont give a fuck is a about someone who is on the edge and wants to see what is down there. I just dont give a fuck is about that place where you end up once you realize what life is truly about. I just dont give a fuck is me letting my fingers write what they want to write. All I had was a title, and to be honest with you guys, it was going to be a different kind of piece. But then my fingers wanted to write a quick story, that wasnt too gruesome and wasnt too evil. And some of these lines … lets just say that they do reflect how I feel most of the time. Its not about I just dont give a fuck, its more of a its not important enough to me kind of thing. I bet most of you can relate to that.

If you like I just dont give a fuck Im sure you will like these poems as well. 

I'll tell you later

I’ll tell you later

I’ll tell you later

You got me, I want more than they show in a movie
I want to transcend us and go back to you and me
I want to be at a loss for words
Because your curves thought it was where I needed to be
I want to glide over every inch of your frame
I want to hear your body moan my name
No need for words let your muscles tell me in Morse code
Let beads of sweat guide me on this road
Let me write this epic story in white ink
Let me go so deep I can feel what you think
Where it’s not about the amount of times you come
But the intensity of the one
Where our shadows take a break cause they can’t keep up
Where that good feeling has you feeling stuck
With my finger in your lips, ah I’m sorry I mean on your lips
If you have anything to say say it with your hips
Let my eyes tell you how much I crave it
Let my heartbeat sync with yours to beat us into where we’re headed
Send shivers down every zone capable of feeling
The only time I check out is to keep track of the kisses I’m stealing
I want to one day pay you back for every kiss I took
With a smile on your face, I call it my mental happiness checkbook
I want it to be more than just in and out
I want to know what each and every perverted fetish is about
Do things to you your dreams will be disgusted by
Leave you incapable of walking but feeling like you can fly
Find that spot that makes your knees weak
I want our passion to only be matched by your body heat
Then once again lose you and me to us and we
Until we become one, one single thing of beauty
But I can’t tell you any of this
Cause at the end of the day it’s still a mere wish
Separated by space and time
I just want you to know your on my mind


This one speaks for itself. I’ll tell you later is one of those pieces that expresses the frustration of wanting someone or something but being unable to get it. I’ll tell you later is the pain of craving something, someone has been teasing you with. From time to time, you have to do a sexy poem to make sure the world knows that there is still some goodness in writing.

If you liked I’ll tell you later, I am sure you will like these pieces as well.

Boycotting the Oscars

Boycotting the Oscars

Boycotting the Oscars

Who is at fault, who is to blame?

Is it Hollywood that keeps playing its game?

Is the studios who decide that black doesn’t sell

Or is the casting directors who put actors through hell

The silver screen has been ringing with the currency of a people lost

Whose accomplishments have been dismissed, discarded and tossed

Their place in history taints their position in the entertainment industry

And the Oscars merely reflect what the majority wishes to see

An organisation isn’t to blame for the pain of a race

Holding it responsible for society’s flaws is out of place

But that coin is double sided, as they represent a world of stars

Where our performances line the silver screen with golden bars

So we should be represented when the rankings are put up

Yet they cage us and keep us in the dark where we are forever stuck

They throw us a bone carved out of an ordinary stone and call it adjustment

Instead of accepting us into the ranks they create another lane of assessment

To reduce the insists whining and seem politically correct

They need something to keep these “outsiders” in check

Its not that their performance wasn’t up to par

But the ones that get awarded were ones that raised the bar

There is no set formula for greatness

But a story no one can relate to, is mere sadness

And production value counts, and that is where they usually lack

Maybe because studios don’t have their back

Or perhaps they don’t have any big stars to headline their movie

But color limits their possibilities and thus the list seems somewhat empty

But its not the fault of the Oscars, its the fault of perception

That little gold statue is nothing more than deception

Acceptance from those who placed you in the dark to begin with

A hand out of the darkness called illusion whose touch you will never get

While prizes and trophies remain ignored due to the size of the stage

Its as if validation comes from a check on this blank page

Holding them up to standards Hollywood dodges with every breath

A niche market that will eternally avoid death

Distort history and gain a prize

Ruin the truth and get praised for lies

This is what sleeps in the shadow of that gold frame

These are the screams of justice in pain

The boycott isn’t in, not going to the Oscars, its in not going to theaters

Its in showing them that our currency wont be placed in movies we aren’t in

Consumers dictate the market and not the other way around

Once a year is not enough for the fist of truth to pound on the door of profound insanity

Don’t boycott the Oscars, boycott the entertainment industry


With Stacey Dash making the statements she made, I wanted to see if I could find her reasoning in writing. I gave it a shot, and the BEST thing I could find in her logic is what Boycotting the Oscars is about. With Will and Jada doing what they did, and Spike Lee doing what he did. It makes sense that Boycotting the Oscars is something that might be a good thing to do. Because if you change the top, the bottom will have to adjust as well. And if you change the bottom, then the top will be forced to change. Either method is fine, but to leave things as they are is indeed NOT an option. So Boycotting the Oscars is a good thing if you ask me. But I do feel that they arent the only ones to blame. Boycotting the Oscars is a logical step that should extend into several areas of entertainment. So we should all be Boycotting the Oscars.

If you liked this piece I am sure you will like this one as well. 

He is slowly coming

He is slowly coming

He is slowly coming

It’s the ever present high pitched screech
Of heavy metal being dragged across concrete
The muffled sound of steps in the dark
Known to never miss its mark
It moves at a slow pace
A tattered hood covers its face
It’s body engraved with scars, its eyes pitch black
His very presence puts the present out of whack
Unbecombered by the damage he has done or is about to do
He is determined to crumble every obstacle, he has to push through
His sledge hammer has scratches of past walls he broke
You can see the dents of a castle he rendered to smoke
He chases every bit of joy like a shark in blood infested waters
But his goal isn’t to devour but rather to test the waters
But his strength and strike improve with each wall he shatters
There is no forethought or malice, his mission is all that matters
The wind blows past him as light evades him
If it weren’t for the sound it would be impossible to notice him
But he is more than a myth, more than a story you tell
He is a reminder of your visits to a secret hell
By the time you realize that what you build is about to fall
It’s too late, for his hammer has already embedded itself in your wall
The dust frames his outline and the sparks reveal his grin
Truly a being that enjoys what it’s doing
And each time you hope, you think he won’t find you
You went far enough, you’re out of his reach, yet its never true
He is slow but relentless
There isn’t a trap, detour or technicality that can match this
The only way out is to accept and prepare
Perhaps the world is corrupt but this is nothing less than fair
So make your wall triple layered and don’t waste time on empty bricks
Keep in mind that duct tape is a quick fix but never sticks
Don’t hate the destruction, hate the weakness of your work
Consider the lessons learned as a bitter perk
Pain will forever sleep at the tip of his tool
The beauty of love is eternally cruel
The best plans are laid to waste by your own  hindsight
There are some things in this world you aren’t able to fight
Let your next wall, be one build by two
And perhaps a gate for him to pass through

We all hide from him
We’re all afraid of him
We all despise him
We all wish to kill him
We all try to ignore him
We all disguise him
We all try to forget him
Rarely will you find one who loves him
Rarely will you find one who accepts him
Rarely
Vino


He is slowly coming is something I wanted to tell. It’s something that came to me before I fell asleep and I was caught in the whirlwind that is my thoughts. He is slowly coming is what it feels like when you want to do something but a thing haunts you. He is slowly coming is what it feels like when you want something but not everything is going your way. I am more than a little curious to see what you guys will think of this, because this is pretty darn true for me. And I assume that most people go through the same things one way or another. So I believe that my pain isnt unique, and my fears arent unique either. So having this creature chase me down, trying to destroy everything I build up, is something I hope others go through as well. Well maybe not hope but lets say … believe in.

If you liked He is slowly coming I am sure you will enjoy these pieces as well.

The best conversation ever

The best conversation ever

The best conversation ever

The sand nestled in between his toes
Found its way into every crevice of his clothes
The sun brought forth a gentle glint
The previous storm reduced its wind to a mere hint
And he laid there sprawled out like a starfish
Squinting at the sun as he mumbled I didn’t want this
His words stroked the cloudless sky as If to curse them
Yet none of this seemed to bother him
As he didn’t move a muscle
Perhaps exhausted from his previous tussle
He smiles a grin showing his understanding
A situation in which there is no helping
He is just happy to at least have someone to talk to
Like all men facing death he is talking more than he used to
And the other party does naught but listen
As he spills all he ever felt without any restriction
All his fears, secrets and true emotions
No longer cumbered by society’s afflictions
No need for keeping up a social mask
His heart beats with every question he never dared ask
Looks inside to see the truth waiting in the dark corner of his soul
Stares at a night sky devoid of stars as if they all went for a stroll
And left the odd man out, the moon seems to sob in silence
His imagination runs wild as if its begging for a quick dalliance
And he shares it all with a listening ear
The beauty of accepting yourself has become clear
To a man who hid behind false words and crooked promises
The beauty of just being honest is a surprising but pleasant twist
He shared his past, his uncle that touched him
The girl that broke his heart and forever scarred him
The fear he feels whenever he meets someone new
The pain of his mother not loving him the way a mother’s meant to
His anger with his father for beating her the way he did when drinking
The way he had to always lie about what he was thinking
Because no one wants to be friends with the depressed
The pressure of feeling like he was always being put to the test
The fear of not fitting in, or people around him founding out what’s inside of him
People seeing his true self was always the scariest thing
He hid behind the behaviour he learned through observation
Managed to hide his hesitation behind a solid imitation
To the point where he forgot his own being
And simply assimilated the image everyone was seeing
But with this ear he didn’t need to
With this conversation there was nothing he had to do
But be honest, be real, and be himself
And in that he found a fountain of wealth
A fountain of truth in which he could drown and find himself
There was no need to be worried about what the ear would think
To be stranded and awaiting death was never in his plan
But in a way he is happy because he had the best conversation of his life with a dead man


Its been awhile since I created a story. So I decided to do a piece called The best conversation ever. Now there are several ways you can go about having The best conversation ever. But I wanted to do something that you could relate to. The best conversation ever is something you can only have if you are truly honest. And the problem with being truly honest is that most people only dare to do it when they know they wont be judged. And since everyone judges everyone. having The best conversation ever is a hard thing to do. So that is why you can have The best conversation ever with someone who wont judge you.

If you liked The best conversation ever I am sure you will love these pieces as well.

Darkness never rests

Darkness never rests

Darkness never rests

The darkness never once rested it’s heels
Ran through the pain it feels
It was chasing a soul which made it drool
It was love at first sight yet it acted cool
Because it knew that it couldn’t entice this one
It knew that at the first hint of strife it would run
So it approached with care
Made sure every situation seemed fair
The best way to manipulate someone
Is to have them believe the right thing was done
Not by standards of common decency
Not even by the ever fickle morals of society
No, by the iron rules cemented by their conscience
But to get them to this point you need patience
And the will to create any situation you deem fit
With consequences so brilliant they will never forget
And darkness understood it better than light ever could
Darkness used it in ways light never would
But this soul was special it was unique
And not in that flattering way that we supposedly all are
But in a way that would allow darkness to lower the bar
Make it easier for most to fall into deprivation
It monitored its moves its breathing its intonation
Everything had to be close to perfect so it could shine
It all had to come together like the perfect rhyme
He played his part and darkness never rested
With every second that passed his grit was tested
The smoke he never tasted surrounded him in a haze
The loss of his first prey left him somewhat in a daze
But now this soul stands in front of him, as pure as the first
Every fiber of his being urges him to quench his thirst
Exquisite words fly over sweet promises
To drench honey soaked sentences into a beautiful story
And yes, on a certain level the soul was aware it was being tested
But pride, but vanity, but greed, but money
The temptations never rested
He hoped for a release an idle chance at peace
He hoped the dark would cease
But the problem with darkness is that it doesn’t decide what to do
It simply is, light is the problem, an issue most never see through
But a lie told as the truth becomes it
Perception rarely changes so people simply accept it
And that is why the darkness wants to save at least one
The darkness wants the wickedness of the light to be undone
People often forget that the dark is peace
People often forget that the dark is true
Because of the so called light that is meant to help them
But anything that scares you into believing that the opposite is wrong
Isnt meant to be cherished
The dark sleeps on thorns of misjudgment
While the light sleeps on pillows of undeserved praise
Break the glass dividing your reality
Join me … I want to ask you a question
……..


Darkness never rests is a piece about how life will always try to break you down. It will give you small moments of rest and infrequent phases of happiness. Darkness never rests is about how pain will always be present in your life, but that doesnt mean its a bad thing. Darkness never rests is where you go to in your mind when life once again throws something at you that you didnt want or expect. Darkness never rests is a story for those in pain, those who think they hit the bottom, those who want to love but never get the chance to. Darkness never rests is a story of how I think it is.

If you like this, I am sure you will love these pieces as well

It was after number 23

It was after number 23

It was after number 23

Bang
That was the first shot, since then, I did alone
Goosebumps ran through my bone
What an exciting feeling to do that alone, after so long
You always told me that firing by myself was wrong
I don’t think you was right
Alone in the dark, the spark of the muzzle your only light
Few things can measure up to that
The adrenaline rush alone is like my body is on crack
But given, when I was with you other aspects of shooting were more fun
But you’re not here anymore, so that part is done
Bang
That was shot 2 and that bullet went near your feet
I’m in total control when I am holding this heat
You can’t nag, you can’t tell me what to do
You can’t make me feel bad, just because I shot before you
That spark and flash is the only time I still see your face
So you can’t blame me for my aim being a little off, little out of place
I’m out of practice, it’s been awhile
I’m about to shoot again, how about this time you give me a smile
Bang
The kickback kind of hurts my trigger finger
But I don’t want to see your face anymore, don’t want it to linger
That’s why I tied you up, so you can’t escape
The rules of firing, either shoot someone you love or someone you hate
Try to keep friends out of it, and you’re not a friend of mine
You’re nothing more than a damn memory I have to leave behind
Bang, Bang
That one hit your leg, I’m getting closer
Aw here we go with the hypothetical “maybe it aint over”
Listen, this is on you, just take your medicine, swallow it whole
Don’t spit it out, that will dirty up your soul
Bang, Bang, Bang
Look I hit your thigh, you’re really about to die
But I can’t have you coming back, it will be like some weird zombie attack
Where I relapse and forget, cause you ate my brain or heart
Where I can’t keep logic and bullshit apart
No, I have to make sure that you die
What, you love me, bitch that’s a damn lie
Bang, Bang, Bang
That one hit your stomach and arm, were close to being through
What, you want me to forgive you
Let me think about it
Bang
Nah, I’m ok, if you asked me before I shot the first one, you might have a case
But now my emotions left without a trace
And I’m just busting till I feel something
Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang
That last one hit your heart, does it hurt, because that’s how I felt
Watching everything you love come crashing down and melt
Let me reload and put some lotion on
Because the next few shots are gonna get me ready to move on
My arms are steady and my legs relaxed
I’m about to let go of what had me so vexed
Delete it all, erase it all, unfriend it all
Won’t even pick up when you call
This is it
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang
There is no more us, there is no more loving relationship
There is no more urge, even our so called past is now bullshit
Our forever lasted till goodbye
You’re not worth tears, so I found something instead of a good cry
And every shot was that exact thing
I killed you, by masturbating
Bang
Vino


This was a piece that was given to me as a concept by a artistic friend of mine. She had this idea for a painting, and wanted to see if what I would write would be similar to what she went through. And the concept of killing someone by masturbating is just FUN! Because its something that happens in a way, but no one talks about it. And I didnt want to create a really beautiful piece, where I describe every little emotion with fancy words and euphoric sounding sentences. I wanted to bring this one back to Vino Venitas, so I had to make it dark. I had to make it a bit morbid, so it would fit the writer I am. And that is how I came with the story called It was after number 23. Because in this story it took the person 23 times to get passed the memories. It was after number 23 is the one that will make you smile or shake your head. I also did this It was after number 23 at an event, as my spoken word piece. It didnt go as smooth as some of my other pieces with regards to it being understood and felt. But it was still fun to do it, regardless. Because sometime you have to challenge yourself. And that is what “It was after number 23” was for me. And if you liked this piece I am certain there is more for you to like.

Buy the Book of Poetry Right here!

Passion gone wrong

Passion gone wrong

Passion gone wrong

It was in the middle of the night
He cut off all the lights
He just sat there, waiting for an idea to hit him
Then it occurred, the weirdest thing
All of his days, he slaved away to leave his mark on a single page
But all his rage and pain was the setting to his coming stage
He decided that if he wanted to be remembered
All of his attachments will have to be severed
He will have to let go of society
And step above what they deemed morality
If his creativity couldn’t make him legendary
Then what choice did they leave him but insanity
If they wanted to drive him crazy
They succeeded marvellously
They ignored all of his work, and art
He gave it his all, tore his soul apart
And yet he was left standing in the dark
So he decided to embrace it, and depart
He never wanted to kill, he just wanted normality
He just wanted to fit in, have friends, be happy
But nothing was granted, so he chose the next best thing
He would let the bells of hell ring
He would set free, a dark he tried to ignore
A slumbering passion, an untasted core
The whispers he pretended never to hear
Were now coming through, crystal clear
He was going to leave his mark by preventing others
Would proof that he and the most vile were brothers
But a simple gun, wouldn’t do the trick
No, he needed more, needed a gimmick
He needed something that would shock generations
Something that could bring down nations
He watched all of the greats, and took notes
Evasion, planning, written quotes
Police policies and loopholes
Rituals about consuming souls
He wanted to incorporate the macabre to increase fear
He wanted to attack something they hold dear
And religion is a stake forever etched in stone
So he would remove flesh, and reorganize bone
He would go all the way, and copy them all
Every serial killer, big and small
He would use all their techniques under one banner
For every kill he would use a different manner
From simple to exquisite
From beautiful to horrific
For 10 years, his run would go
And due to his routine, none would ever know
He killed over 700 men and women and never got caught
He was never blamed for the hell he brought
The cops never caught on, that it was one man
The method of kills were too diverse to be planned
At least according to them
So now he sits, staring at a dark screen
As if he is caught in a bad dream
HOW THE HELL did he get away with 700 kills and no one cares
The greatest serial killer of all time, but no one knows he was there
Still caught in the dark, still not on any page
So he sits in the dark, staring, while mumbling in rage
“THIS IS SOME BULLSHIT”


I wanted to write a story. I wanted to write a piece about someone losing himself to himself. I wanted a piece where Passion gone wrong is the underlying theme. Because with a Passion gone wrong comes the pain of realization. And that pain is something that can break most men, or bring the fear of life into others. So a Passion gone wrong is something that can happen to most of us. Passion gone wrong is something that has already become a part of your life, even if you didnt realize it yet. Because we all have dreams that we forgot, or never chased. So a Passion gone wrong is something we should all be familiar with.

In case you liked this piece, I am sure you will like the pieces in this book as well.

The Greatest Stories Never Told

The Greatest Stories Never Told

The Greatest Stories Never Told

There are but a few, whose pen can mesmerize me
But there is only one whose unused ink completely captivates me
Burned pages who’ve never been given life by words
The meaning of their being has been called absurd
And yet her pen moved, but only on clean paper
The reason why, I haven’t the courage to ask her
Because I know the answer is one meant for those burned pages
It’s one of those tales that can define the ages
But they are placed in this cage, shielded by bars constructed of fears
Rusted by uncried tears, the scratches are her scars she doesn’t want anyone to see
But what she doesn’t understand is that she is beautiful to me
She has these stories she refuses to tell
But who would willingly describe their visits to hell
She is not to blame
But at times, it feels like she thinks, she is her pain
Naked and holding herself while sitting next to these pages
As if she is waiting for the flames to burn her as well
Restricted to bars only she can dissolve
With a puzzle for a lock only she can solve
I want to touch her skin, and show her I’m not here on a whim
Hold her and whisper I’m here for the writer in her
And no matter what may occur, I have pages and ink aplenty
She can practice on my tear soaked lines
She can skim through the words I left behind
I want to hold her hands, look her in the eyes and not say a word
Instead write them all down, lay my head on her chest hear her heart pound
Just so I can add that beat to the scratches of her pen
And hear the melody of her life as she is writing
She has these stories that I am certain can make me cry
She doesn’t have to, but I would like her to try
I would hold her hand and move with it as she writes
So that when she revisits the memories she knows she’s not alone
Let her feel my warmth, when she gets chilled to the bone
Bring her back when she falls too deep
Kiss open the gates of happiness when she falls asleep
The writer in me, is looking for you
The writer in me, wants to know what you’ve been through
The writer in me, is selfish but means well
The writer in me feels you have stories you need to tell
But I don’t have the courage to ask
I don’t have the bravery to request you to remove your mask
I don’t have enough kisses to cover each scar
I don’t have enough words to catch each tear
Why look back after coming this far
Why think back on a storm after the sky just cleared
I can’t even promise I can warm your heart after it’s turned cold
But I just have this feeling your holding on to the greatest stories never told


I have this friend, I met during my days as a poet and host. Now keep in mind that I met more than a few poets and writers in my day. But this lady might have The Greatest Stories Never Told. I am certain that all of us have a past, that we aren’t to keen to share. And we all have pain we would like to forget. But some of us just lead a life where hectic and constant pain and change are a part of it. Its those life’s that hold The Greatest Stories Never Told. And she is once again a step further than those. Its not often that I can see the same pain in someone, and its even rarer to have that person understand the beauty of writing. But writing is a safety mechanism, that doesn’t always need to go to that spot where The Greatest Stories Never Told reside. Sometimes its just a tool to unwind, and find something you might have missed. But my intuition as writer, my past as someone who slept in the dark tells me she has more. She has more than she is showing me, she is more than she is showing me. And that is what this piece is for. Its not for everyone, this one is specific. The Greatest Stories Never Told is a piece just for you. Because I am waiting on The Greatest Stories Never Told.

If you enjoyed The Greatest Stories Never Told you can Enjoy more of my work HERE.

Red Dress

Red Dress

Red Dress

She wore this red dress

She whispered when she spoke as if she didn’t want to disturb anyone

Never did she finish a smile, her grin was a constant one

As if she was hiding behind a mask someone told her was beautiful

Her eyes hid behind wrinkles that proclaimed the world dull

It’s hard to explain the pain that I felt as I watched her

Her slow stride was as if she was expected a disaster to occur

But it was her smile with that red dress that captivated me

The elegance of her fingertips hid a slight sense of insanity

This open and seemingly lovely lady was truly mesmerizing

And if you were caught unaware, you wouldn’t notice she was lying

You would have missed the subtle signs, the slick hints

The way she prevented leaving finger prints

Or maybe it’s just my paranoia awakening

She was just too perfect, to be a real thing

Her hips swayed to a beat meant to hypnotize

Most men looked down, but I was still caught in her eyes

And that damn red dress

Perhaps I should confess

I wanted more than her name or age

I wanted things one can’t find on a page

But the moment she touched me I lost

All logic was tossed and I was caught

She played me like she did all of us

But for some reason that wasn’t enough

Perhaps I offended her by not falling at first sight

Maybe she just felt extra wicked that night

But her charms drowned me

Never have I felt so happy in my misery

I wanted to run away, just so I could run back

I wanted to forever stay on this track

I was so close to touching that red dress with tainted fingers

And even now, her perfume still lingers

Her fragrance still haunts me, never have roses smelled this vile

Yet, even in my disgust I smile

I am lost … in search of a dress never seen

I’m searching for perfection extremely unclean

Banging my head against a wall of memories

All the seconds that will tick are now enemies

Trying to take away what I know of her

But I recite it all, repeatedly, just for her

So that when we meet again

I will have a step up on the other men

She was a lady in red, a diamond amongst stones

A heart in the midst of bones

Love at first sight

An exquisite night

I never caught her name, never caught her lips, yet she was the best

She was my lady in a red dress


Have you ever been in love at first sight? Perhaps I had a dream where I saw a lady in a Red Dress and was never the same. This Red Dress might have captivated me more than I expected. Because the lady in the Red Dress just flowed out of my fingers. This is one of those stories where my mind/fingers wanted to tell a story and didnt feel like it should inform my creativity. So this piece is a story, straight from my fingers. And this Red Dress piece, is what was born from that creativity. Who knows, if maybe one day, I will meet the real lady in a Red Dress. Which would be beautiful, because a Red Dress is pretty nice to look at.

If you want to read more Love Poems you can find them in my Ebook.

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