It's Not SpokenWord.

It’s not spoken word, and I take offense
when my work is referred to as: poetry
See, because My words...are my life.
Black ink on white paper rhythmically
transferred from word to thought
flipping in your mind like a fish caught
slipping swimming too close to the shore
my words are like water to you, fish...
so please, feel free to fill your gills with more

It’s not spoken word...it’s a metaphrase of
My existence that I’m willing to share with
Anyone who’ll listen...take in these verbal vitamins
Digest them, let them seep into your blood stream;
I guarantee my art will arterialize and make its way
To the principal parts of...you
My tangible thoughts promote healthy living;
The gift that keeps on giving...my eternity in ink
From me to you

It’s not spoken word...it’s a portion of my
blueprint, a part of me that makes me... me
and I feel that if I give you part of my soul
the least you can do is keep it label-free
untainted, unadulterated, fresh squeezed, concentrated
Brain Juice splattered on paper...
transferred from written, to spoken...to heard
these words are my life, and I beg you
when they make their home in your mind,
please...treat them right

BathroomBreak.

Red nail polish
worn and chipped
on fingertips
that graze
bruised lips
heart and mind
slips
into the darkest abyss
a soul could ever know
Eyes search their
reflection and
attempt the
detection
of the woman
who once stood
taller than anyone
she ever knew
the truth came to
a screeching halt
at the safe side of
her bruises
the cool quiet
sanctuary was
useful only until
he decided she'd
had enough
alone time
the crime she
committed slipped
her mind
but he'd only find
another reason
to do what
he does best:
punish her flesh...

Life Goes On

Friend's blood and brains splattered on pavement
Phone calls from collections expecting payment
Nursing home& inevitable interment arrangement
But life goes on...
Beat up, hair pulled and choked out
Procrastination, depression and self doubt
Bury face in pillow and then shout
But life goes on...
Yellow slip out front my shit is past due
Pockets thin but all my clothes is brand new
How to save, admit that I have no clue
But life goes on...
Carry weight that no one seems to understand
Press on for my Son and my favorite Man
Crumble under the weight of all these demands
But life goes on...

LOST

I can't find my creativity. If anyone's out there... If anyone cares INSPIRE me, CHALLENGE me... Someody spark a flame under my ass please! Lol
Love, Later.
-ZAG

"sometimez i lie cheat steal.. smoke drink fuck.. disrespect misdirect.. knock ice cream out of young'nz handz.. help old ladiez cross the street &then ask for their numberz &,when they politely decline, tell em to remember their vitamin d in the mornin; deez nutz!............... God knowz my heart tho"

Written by: Mr. Burghardt
aka
The Love of My Life

My boyfriend definitely does NOT have swag (and that's a compliment)....

....To live the life of a BlackNerd. *teehee*

Relax. Relate. Release.

I scribe seamless, soothing lullabies for you
And sing them softly until you drift into my world.
Then I wrap and drape you in sheer eloquence
Poetically paving paths to
Promise.
Dreams.
Dedicating each syllable to you in tune with
The Key of Life...
The journey is made easy for you-
Rest assured.

Happy New Year's to all who read!! I am dedicating '09 to...ME. I am focusing on all my goals and desires and will make them happen for me in the next 364 days (this year is a leap). I will bring it back to writing...for a while I had lost the desire to write anything. Wallowing waist deep in self dout, I put my First Love on the back burner. I will also start drawing again... The freedom of creating my own world artistically is unparalled. Tired of the technical engineering humdrum way of things. Give me my FREE!!!


Ps...okay I'm on that bullshit bcz this definitely is NOT a leap year. Sku me ;p

Promise

Forgot what promise feels like.
Tastes like. Looks like.
I've been blinded and suffocated by promise.
Thought promise was supposed to be a good thing
Never imagined promise would kill me slowly.
Made, broken and made again promise taunts me. Laughs at me. Keeps coming back...
Wagging its finger, "I told you so."
Opening its arms offering an all too familiar embrace, reminding me that promise is warm
sweet
beautiful...
Briefly giving me everything I need
Only to push me toward the edge of regret again and again... and again.