Poetry In Motion: Panacea

"Panacea"

Baby...

You are my cure-all

A remedy of all my sins

Having a dose of your love takes away all the diseases that infect me

You are the cure to my plague

Your smile takes away the pain in my heart

Though when you get angry, your attitude feels like a syringe piercing through my skin

It stings!

But when it's all said and done

When we are both calm like the rays of the sun, that dose of your love brings joy to my life

It is the vaccination when I am missing you

You are my panacea

The cure to my loneliness

Jeff L.

Smock Salute!

Poetry In Motion: The Lust

"The Lust"

It's another night of lust

The sweet nectar that I love to suck

I am enamored by the up and down motion of your belly against mine

The scratches from my neck to the bottom of my spine

It surges with electrical jolts that dance under the moonlight

I swallow your tongue to forever remember the taste

Pressed with rough lips that fights for your possession

I gaze into your eyes to never forget the pupils that attempt to read my mind

I gently stroke your mane from north to south like the ripples of a stream

Your screams echo through my ears

You moan my name never to forget my government

I kiss you on the cheek to express the sensitivity that I offer

To work my way to your neck to take a sip of the sweat

My hands rub you like a soft teddy bear

There is nothing to be afraid of since you are engulfed in my warmth

In return, you show comfort in my being

It's a pleasure to meet you

Maybe the first and the last

Possibly, we will never meet again

I must say, you will never forget the magical night we had in bed

Enough said...

Jeff L.

Smock Salute!

Poetry In Motion: Sunrise To Sunset

"Sunrise To Sunset"

The window glares as the sun peaks through

Once again, I have been missing you

Another day as the sun rises to greet me with sweet delight but only to create a cringe within

Your bright yellow star smiles only to light up my own

I embrace you ray and you slay me with your colorful array

My warm sheets cover what's beneath, only to prevent the coming evening

As days pass, the night makes its grand entrance

You slowly walk away into the cold vastness

What was once bright is now dark

I looked into the horizon, just to peak beyond the incomprehensible future

You turned your back

And I will do the same with cold shivers

What thoughts lye are memories to cherish with a bright future

I can't bare your magical act

I can bare to see you once more

The rain shall fall for myself to embrace forever more until your return to the sky

I will be a new until your new sunrise returns

My sunset is no different as I turn away from your light

I'm sorry that I must explore new days on my own

Jeff L.

Smock Salute

Write Or Fight?!?

“So the pen is mightier than the sword my lord” ~ Shawn Carter

Unbeknownst to some, recognized by a few, under the radar amongst a majority, lies a historical war between weapons of honor and destruction. Somewhere since the beginning of time, penmanship and swordsmanship have clashed in a constant fight for superiority. In my view, I’ll take the side of the one that is legal, readily available, and understands me more than its yang counterpart.

I woke up yesterday getting ready for my usual weekday routine. Spontaneity hit me from yonder as a well recorded lyric (see above) played inside my head. It had me thinking for that moment.

Let’s view how far history has taken us:

They are quite synonymous in some ways:

“My sword and shield

A weapon used to etch my violent emotions onto my enemies

Also leaves my signature like Zorro

A shield used to protect my inner being

Colors and engraver that are marked in order to expose its true beauty”

Jeff L.

Both involve physical activity when wielded against your opposition, whether paper or person. It is as dependent on you as you are to it. Vicariously, you are one in the same.

The sword is clearly a weapon of choice by which resembles a sense of honor utilized for destructive purposes dependent on the user. It has existed beyond the French-Indian War and American Revolution to combat for territorial purposes. It has one common goal, to injure and worst, end your existence. The outcome never changes. Someone is at risk.

The pen is a weapon of internal release therapy. It understands you better than anybody else. It’s more intimate towards your feelings and can never steer you wrong because in a sense, you are always (w)rite. Also, it is the source of documented declaration of our founding nation (The Declaration of Independence) and control of all media (newspapers, magazines, scripts).

I think it is unanimous on who the winner shall always be. If you don’t know, than…

You choose: Write or Fight?

Jeff L.

SMOCK SALUTE!

What Yields the Best Writing? Happiness or Sadness?

I’m ecstatic when I’m productive, but ironically, that comes from when I feel some sort of melancholy. I feel as thought the quality of writing I produce is at my absolute best when I’m faced with adversity, sadness and the like.

When I’m happy? Not so much? It’s hard for me to stomach writing poetry when I use works like joy, happy, smiles. The grittiest sh*t I’ve ever wrote was through death, heartbreak, and things just not going my way.

But, when I am happy, and of course that’s what we strive for everything outside of the writing world, being productive is a must.

In this case you have to force yourself to write, whether it be in a journal, diary, poems, and short stories – no matter how much they suck. Perhaps you have to fake it – I suggest reading somber and depressing/tragic books to pull you in that mood.

Either way we must find that balance, and no matter what. WRITE.

Until next time.

Ralph

3650 + Days Later

Red, white and blue are the colors that we bleed on this tenth annals. A strong representation of how far we have come since the start of the millennium. On my visit to the grandest city in the world, I reminisced on how much has changed over time including myself. It didn’t seem too long ago when I was a junior in high school living through such a tragic day. But as a nation, we still stand strong like the tower shown above!

I took a trip through memory lane surfing through my past two entries of the 2009 and 2010. Quite frankly, it was just days of normalcy in the past two memorials. It just goes to show despite our remembrance of these dark times, there is always a light waiting to soak the moment. Something like a symbol of hope by which has grown to be the country’s moniker.

Also, it’s a recording of a past that left marked unscathed inside my book. More history is yet to be recorded in years to come. It’s always good to have a piece of it left somewhere safe and personal. We remember and…

SMOCK SALUTE! To all….

Yearly Writ’s. Annual Annals.

September 12th, 2011, to me, is just as important as the 10-year anniversary of yesterday. Why? As a writer, as Michael Bloomberg put it, we gave the tragedy meaning, interpretation, and understanding to what transpired a decade ago.

The calendar this year and calendar’s past - the months and days it represents, reverberates through me, not by passively looking at days that are now past, but by actively remembering what I was going through.

A decade ago today, I was all sorts of inspired by the events that transpired in my hometown. I look back at my writings. The years between 2001 and 2011 have been no different. And it’s not only 9/11 – it’s anniversary’s, birthdays, break ups, etc.

As a writer, you can use these highs and lows to not only be internally inspired, but to also gauge how far your writings have come.

What inspires you most to write?

Until next time.

Ralph

Poetry In Motion: Summer To Fall

"Dear Summer. I know you gon miss me. For we been together like Nike Airs and crisp tees" ~ Shawn Carter

And the feeling is reciprocated in return as summer has left its bright temperament behind as Labor Day weekend has passed. Technically, the season isn't over, but it sure feels like it. You will seem far away like the sunlight shined beyond the end of an overpass. Memories have been recorded to cherish the passing of the seasonal year. Now we prepare for transition into falling leaves and dreary days of rain and cold winds. No more sun tans, only occasional sweaters and rain coats.

I am comfortable with that because around this time, my focus is put into high gear in latter months. I have a lot of ideas, new goals and projects to embark. So, it should be a good coming of the autumn. Stay Tuned!

"Morning Fall"

Awoken...

by the silent whisper of the day

No sunshine shines my way

It speaks with no say

Involuntarily, I awake with a mission that leads a stray

The rain continues to pour leaving a trail of tears

A pathway to a gate of misery

I opened the door with no expectations

Another day in the life of destitution and plight

The season is here

It resembles the mood of the past year

Soon, nature will fall, leaving a trail of broken tips in front of me

Such cloudy days that block the sun

No warm embrace shall hug me today

I have to reach in order to touch the mighty star of grace

If I fall, my life is over come winter

I must leave the floods behind in order to reach the bright of summer days

See you until next time

I refuse to fall come morning's autumn

Jeff L.

Smock Salute

THE REBIRTH OF SMOCK. BACK TO DRAFTS.

As SMOCK was displaced, idle for months at a time, we can only collectively blame ourselves. WHOEVER. WHATEVER. WHENEVER. There are all words of a past tense.

And it’s with the present tense I like to reconstruct the smock in a new preserved form. It’ll have all the intents as before, with the consistency it once had. Once again we will be discussing the fanfares and follies of writing, before it’s discernible, consumable form upon which you read.

Until next time.

A smock named Ralph

On To The Next One

“I’m on to the next, on to the next”

As you can already see, I am a Shawn Carter fan, and proud of it for many reasons unbeknownst to a few that don’t know me. He is an influential figure to pop culture and fans as well. I attempt to model my life as his but different parallels, in my own way; we possess different levels of aspirations but agree on the success that needs to be achieved.

Yesterday, I came to a clear-cut epiphany that stood face to face like my inescapable reality. Yes, I have achieved much for an adult of my caliber. But, there is still that concealed sense of emptiness that lingers. It shows its weary presence at a moment of weakness and slowly consumes you. I didn’t ask for it, but hell, we all go through it sometimes in our life, that feeling of incompletion that hasn’t been fulfilled. Naturally, I wrote about what was on my mind at the time and it was relieving, at least for the moment. So, I came to a definitive decision to move “on to the next one”

How is that defined? It can mean anything that motivates oneself to the next step. In turn I will proceed to move harder towards something more worthwhile than my present mediocrity. That’s easier said than done but it all starts with the initial thought, then extends to the first step and eventually graduates into a routine that is arduous, laborious and demanding, but is worthwhile in the end of the road.

Mediocrity is fine and dandy for a few, comfortable like a full sized mattress. Excellence is success designed in the form of a king size bed. I don’t mind striving for that. So should you, if you choose.

“World can’t hold me. Too much ambition.”

Jeff L.

Smock Salute