Category: Poetry

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Clear Minded Journeys

It’s been a mighty tame decade for me compared to the former,


The straight and narrow much more accurately traced.


Along this road of life, I’ve turned the proper corners, and


this wholesome behavior gives way to days when I appreciate my senses, laced


with nothing but my own starting 5, playing to perfection; a trip with nothing but a sober head on a swivel,


Slowly, so surely surveying a straight edge’s point of view on the realm of reality we can accurately perceive – “raw-dogging life,” if you will,


can yet yield experiences far more valuable than one may estimate.


Just take a look at where these words took you – somewhere far and distant, deep into another person’s psyche.


One’s five senses alone makes quite the experience, no matter what add ons you prefer.


Life at its base is trippy as shit. – RSM

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Space-Time Sublime

Shakespeare (for example) is read across centuries and continents;


countless human eyes have bounced off of his words.


Little squiggles communicate language, keeping his hundreds-years-old thoughts relevant.


Reading is telepathy, according to Stephen King at least,


A mind and time bending set of decorations.


It’s a plug-and-play for the brain, far from lame,


From your own latest tweet back to the book of Revelation.

Illustration, photography, images decorate space


while music miraculously decorates time.


Video games take you within while being without – immersion, gone wild,


and the world wide web brings it all together in space-time, sublime.

Sure, criticize it, hyperbolizing it’s negative effects, if you desire, but,


A million multiverses exist within each of our minds and we’ll all leave a “tech footprint” before we die,


So have at it, fam! Enjoy yourselves with the media we consume, create, and share to our peeps,


It’s a wild dream we’re living on our ever-growing collection of screens.

How else could I get these words out for all to see?


Do you really think a 20th century publisher could reach the masses like a website can, or an account on IG?


Embrace, don’t hate, on the times we experience, ‘now’ is all we have anyway, friends.


Everything in moderation of course, take breaks, touch grass, vibe out, sleep in –


But I hope that you’ll enjoy the modern marvels that we all use, cuz damn,


I think Shakespeare would use every creative tool at his disposal if he had a Tik Tok or an Instagram!

Dalí would have a field day, given the chance
and wouldn’t mind the trolls shunning his work at first glance.


It’s beyond a tech network, it’s a realm, a world of imagination-based vibes.


Enjoy this multi-sensory dance of space-time sublime. – RSM

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Victory

How does one claim it?

Is it only as temporary as your next bout?

Or does at least one moment of joy suffice, potentially through one’s last days?

A better word is ‘happiness,’ I think, because it can also be achieved without competition

nor any witnesses, it can be just you, having a feeling deep within –

an excitable peace, a love for existence,

or like a hummingbird’s wings it could be constant, consistent,

a warm, lovely feeling that doesn’t go away,

it comes and goes with sports, and so it does with everything else;

and when it’s yours, in your heart, mind, soul, whatever you believe your ‘self’ to be –

then it’s yours.

Enjoy it. Love it. Don’t go around it or be above it.

Take a step back and feel yourself soar. – RSM

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Buses and Trains

I have an intimate, back and forth type of relationship


With the way I go back and forth with bus stops and train stations, it’s,


A hallmark of a city kid, having your favorite bus seat and preferred type of train car,


Or knowing which doors to pick, so when the train opens up and you head toward the stairs you don’t have to walk that far.


As the sirens blare, and loud music purveys, and other harmonious, natural city sounds emanate,


I find my own rhythm, it doesn’t take long,
getting into the groove with buses and trains is how I sing a city’s song. – RSM

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Periwinkle Skies; A Sign

A light purple, if you will,

So trill, the hue of royalty hangs itself above the ever-moving metropolis,

it’s a shade that flirts with blue, purple, and grey – every so often, this, horizon

glows above us, quietly, yet proudly.

Not unlike the dusk that follows, it wanes into darker times, yet reminding us to be not afraid of the night. – RSM

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An Ode To ‘New Blue Sun’ by André 3000

Such perfect simplicity rings through my ears.

A far cry from the past, such a serene set of sounds salivates my synapses

as I type away my thoughts.

Brain candy, but the healthy kind.

Rewind nearly twenty years back and the same man had Caroline’s roses

and the whole world shakin’ it like a Polaroid picture, but Ow!

how it hurts how much the world has changed since then.

I appreciate every kind detail, every minute little sonic that crafts a wordless tale.

Knuckles bared, shoulders squared, wherever this new blue sun is rising, I’m there.

Keep evolving, 3 Stacks, keep evolving. – RSM

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Backpacks Dropping

Carrying one has given me perspective.

Kinda like when Goku and Krillin took their turtle shells in Dragonball,

you’re taking on a debt of labor to bring what you need along with you

and far and wide, near and close that weight is literally on your shoulders.

The parable of fool’s gold regulates the way we lug along those things we need for wherever we are going;

and booooyyy let me tell you when that weight is released –

whether it was books for class, I had just got home, touched down across the world, or just got to the car – I feel the difference. 

I feel free. – RSM

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Anxiety

It’s an invisible enemy, friendly only to fears and tears.


The serial thief of joy, it’s the corrupted, chaotic space between our minds and thin air.


Without a care it dials down our quality of life and laughs while we suffer, it cackles at our strife,


And I’m beyond done with it’s nonsense!


I’m tired and over it’s I’ll timed pranks and the bloated lies it tells me.


Go find someone else to fuck with. – RSM

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Falling Leaves

Pathways through a garden remind me

that time and space are relative,

A slated line of concrete behind me

streaks through the flora and fauna – mild sedatives;

The world surrounds us, but we also surround it, 

nature and humanity love to dance,

And so I walk by, humbly astounded

By the stories falling leaves leave of this lovely romance. – RSM

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Hypothetically Yes, Theoretically Forever

What if we met on a whim at a random little house party in Harlem


What if we went on a few cute little dates


What if your curls and smile reminded me of sunlight, cuz I couldn’t get enough, still can’t


What if that little blue dress drew me in like a magnet


What if I believed we were onto something and I sneezed inward when you surprised me with a “yes”


What if my demons came to get me and you were there through it all and beyond


What if our spontaneous fun times turned into a lifetime of love


What if we moved in together like 5 and a half times and exchanged my hometown with yours


What if we watched over dozens of college kids for several years


What if the world stopped when you said “yes” again on that sweetest day


What if we got married and kept on traveling the world together


What if we bought a nice little bungalow on the South Side of Chicago and cuddled to Enamorándonos every weeknight


What if none of these ‘what ifs’ ever happened?


^That’s the only hypothetical in my mind I’d rather not entertain. – RSM