Flow

does this anger anyone else…

I looked up “word” today, and it is defined as “something that is said”

I looked it up because I wasn’t finding “love” quite enough, sappy yes? Indeed!

But if a word is something that is said, then what is something that is felt?

Love…is for pussies

So when you go to describe your love for someone, it is better to come in vowels.

This is a poem i wrote, called Vowels (which is one word, yes i know this, and this poem has to be spoken, not read or it will just not sound toooo right)

Websters says, a word is…

“Something that is said”, so my feelings for you are something that is said? and the stomach flutter on a roller coaster is something that is said?

well bid me allergic to words, to be free to describe the better things in life with the repeated vowels of which i adore….ooooooh aaaaaahh

she gives me more to fill the 33 lines of wide ruled white and blue paper to…

place letters to represent feelings to…

describe my love

to get through to her

to open her eyes to help open her heart

to feel.

because i don’t want to give her words if they are just something that is said…

what you give me is the inhalation of air that equals a gasp that travels through my body that fills my lungs so that my heart can beat…to the drum that yours beats to…booom boom boom boom

so tell me, do you feel my vowels?

and you are my exhaling relief at the beginning and end of each day that sounds like AEIOU and sometimes this why i ooooooooooh youuu

So take that Websters, because you don’t know shiiiiiiiiiitttt

Shiiiiiiittt with ten I’s, now feel my vowels in the shit that comes outa my mouth

and the shit that is used to describe that person you despise!

piece of shiiiiiiit.

so i hate words but love poetry because one word alone doesn’t cut it, but my combined, intertwined, perfectly aligned grind of vowels and words solves my problem.

problem, oh yeah…i forgot, love is one word - so listen as i serenade you in the fruit of vowels of O for orange and A for apple and U for ummmm, yeah

i am in…not love, but

in a place where although it is the city that never sleeps, the tones detone themselves so that all that speaks is the thump of your heart hear it now - pitter patter through the sheets combined intertwined perfectly aligned grind of you and I and boom boom, boom boom…

i am in…not love, but

in the sand with the ocean tapping at my feet, in a bed with silk sheets next to you next to i next to us as we lye, and i am in the shine of the moon light as it glitters upon your face sprinkled with grace as we embrace…i’m not in love, but in heaven…not the word but the place.

Websters has not come up with a word for the screams in ears on 9/11, because the combined, intertwined, perfectly aligned … crying

is simply unwordable, because no word can describe the feeling of defeat…

THUMP…BOOM

just like your heart when we slept under the night sky, nothing but boom boom, boom boom…the rattle of the AC and the in and out whistle of air from your mouth…

how now i wish to be the air that journey’s in and travels to the corners of your body…i wish to be next to the sound of us…beating boom boom, boom boom

hear my vowels now.