Just Me

I’m the antithesis of proper speech…
words formed with scorn
Caught in throat, waiting for breath to be born
My backwards preachy methods
Are deemed unruly and reckless
Must be inner me, a throw back of vinyl records
Needles in the groove … Creating the groove
Melodies inducing a positive mood

Please; Pardon my dyslexic mannerisms
But My backwards mechanisms
Make Angelic motions a hard adjustment …

I’m - scripts spit from a window pane
Half closed, yet still exposing my pain
Because…Co-joined housing is such.a.social drain
my words connect almost by reflex
you call it POETRY  - I call it emotion

That’s as good as it gets
…I fell in love with her
Wrote words wrapped around - HER

Well, in a round about way…
I Displayed passion of a flexible wrist
Wrote her notes of Joy

but
Felt jaded when the content was flipped …
Felt like she wasn’t really in love with Chris
False flagging her devotion; talking about
What the other people spit…
She Reminded me of a few “So called friends”…
Then I switched my Pen and Controlled the leaks
of scribbled portions of me Coaxing..
While coating clean sheets with a soiled speech
smiling because Poetry always gets the best of me..

(c) Chris Styles / Slow Sippin' 2009