Tag: poem

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Morning Metra Meditation

To think, and act with love in every instance of my existence is the goal I have in mind.

Cultivating a peace from within is the first step;

the second, third, and fourth is to spread love outward, back onto the beings I spend this life with.

The highest vibrations are the ones I hope to be happily humming along to

as I find yet another musical journey to take while I wait

for this train’s trip to end with the start of another work day.

With steady breathing and affirmations on repeat, I remind myself to see the good and be the good in the day ahead.

-RSM

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The Night Sky on Take Off

(Written August 8, 2018)

A perfect storm of clear skies make way for crystal clear streetlights

to dot the earth with grid shaped tattoos,

and if even if one or two blow a fuse, the pattern holds strong.

And all along the rising spiral off the runway

I’m reminded of how beautiful it is to fly. – RSM

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Dance Loud

(Written December 27, 2017)

Let loose. Move to the beat, or way off beat, who cares?

That’s the point.

Whether you’re on a crowded, douchy, $30 cover dance floor,

Or a 1 person army, taking your living room by siege, let it all out.

Dance big. Dance loud.

Be the wackiest person in sight if you have to.
Be the wackiest person in sight if you want to.

Drown out the music with amplified moves.

Make the ground shake.

Make heads spin, while making your head spin.

Be your body’s DJ. – RSM

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A Comfortable Silence

(Written November 6, 2017)

Going home via subway after a long day.

Energy depleted, memory hazy,

but its quite quiet, nothing crazy,

Just a hum of the tracks we’re gliding on,

and the weight of the world coming off our shoulders.

A Fall Sunday morning, and rain is falling, a calm, unmatched.

A colorless, weightless, shapeless onslaught, cool to the touch;

the sky is opaque, and I feel as each rain drop is a part of me. – RSM

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Flying Free.

(Written August 14, 2017)

No look-backs, no worries.

Head up, arms spread wide,

Shooting through the wind; that’s how I feel.

It’s pretty easy nowadays to soar through rainclouds,

piercing through monsoons of gloom that used to leave me saturated, consumed. – RSM

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As Roots Branch Out..

… the firmly planted plants grow stronger, in all directions –

At their base, the close-knit underground structure grows deeper,

and the young ones up top grow and bloom, blossom and loom over the sunny days,

fully aware of the world around them and its possibilities.

Perhaps the wind will take them somewhere far someday, these seedlings,

off the leaves of the branches of the old, wise tree they’ve grown from.

Perhaps they’ll fall right next to it, the seedlings to their source, and join a skyline of green,

shoulder-to-shoulder, shading the older and younger trees alike.

As many fish in our seas, there are branches and trees,

Forming new forests, while the old ones grow strong;

and they will all rise, fall, and become new again. – RSM

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The Protocol

Political personalities putting on a show-

whether their names are Trump, Jong-Un, or Guaidó.

But ‘¡ay Dio!’ is all that comes to my mind,

As another emblazoned nation faces trying times

at the star-spangled hands of imperialist lies,

the bloody game continues of the Lord of the Flies,

they even got a rubric to pull this shit,

oil-rich countries’where they always do this shit:
Step 1: The sanctions, CIA encampments,

Sabotaging the economy and their autonomy.
Step 2: The media, feeding the masses with all the seeds

they need to spin all their dirty deeds,

calling murder ‘peace,’ and all the oppressed ‘freed’,

HUMANITARIAN CRISIS! (built by Yankee greed).

Very few see beyond the headlines, and opinions,

when imperialist media send in all their minions,

and when the time’s right and the stage is set,

we ‘come to the rescue,’ or so they’ve said:
Step 3: Invasion, aka ‘I think this regime needs changing,’

or ‘their leader is crazy,’

New leaders are backed by the capitalist-apparatus

If they’re down to take over, the new puppet for the masses,

And old, defiant leaders, smeared, jeered, deposed,

no longer respected, even if rightly elected.
All it comes down to is who you bow down to,

They’ll either roll in and crown you, or roll you over and clown you. – RSM

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Little Signs of Love.

Post-It notes, reminding me to eat leftovers in the fridge.

Helping me become a 1000% better cook.

Not letting me stay mad; figuring things out and making peace instead.

Being inseparable on the weekends.

Making plans to travel the world.

When I can make you laugh really hard, about anything, anything at all. – RSM

 

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Shelter in a Moonlit Temple

My third eye’s the only one that doesn’t need corrective lenses,

And I’m betting that I’m spending a little too much attention

On the rocks thrown at the church of my creations and inventions,

But I’m in the last pew just trying to focus on my blessings.

And I don’t fully believe, everything the priest proclaims,

And the rock throwers outside, no, they’re not fully to blame,

Optimism clashes when another stone thrown crashes with the doubters throwing rocks, breaking windows during masses,

I know its all a vision I see through my clearest lens,

I built this church from the ground up, it is mine to defend,

And if it’s all in my head, I focus less upon the doubting

and the shouting from outside my inner spirit’s sacred housing,

In my mind’s temple the lights-go-out, in an instant-silence;

No more broken glass falling, no more riots, no more violence,

Just a silent harmony between my eyes and moonlit-panes

Now the rock throwers are gone, stained-glass all back in their frames,

Then my other two eyes opened, focus, breath, peace of mind maintained,

I’m no longer in a church, but I’m on my couch,

I unfolded my legs, stood, then I blew the candle out,

turned off all the other lights, and smiled at the bright moonlight,

Shining through my kitchen window, like a vessel through the night. -RSM

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Keyboard Rapper Vol. 4

A lot of the time I feel locked into old rhymes

Of the days when the ‘Golden Age’ of hip hop shined,

And I try to stay open; I minded my bias,

but young artists in 2018, I don’t buy it.

I try to branch out, but it gets so annoying,

every xanax rapper is so disappointing,

I already used more words this far along

than some trap artists have in their whole damn song.

I don’t really get how their fans got got,

and when I give them a chance, my brain cells rot.

I just get annoyed at the sliding scale

at which rappers are less inclined to rhyme a story, tell a tale,

Paint a picture with your words, make people wanna listen-

instead of simple REPetition-REPetition-REPetition (SKUHRRR)

Kill the noise and convey some real substance,

It gets old to hear about a whole lotta’ nothin’. -RSM