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Thursday, November 6, 2014

Blue Devils with Black Hearts (Kensington Ave)

Imagine seeing the same
dope fiends EVERY morning.

Nodding off underneath the same railroad bridge
like a corpse covered in tombstone.
Begging for change on the same infamous
drug corners spewing the same sob stories
like preschool teachers.

(…Her eyes were two glass crystal balls
lodged in her face scrying hopeless.
She needed two quarters. I wish I could
have given her hope instead…)

Wearing the same tramp
stamps like medals of honor.
The same prostitutes that
were once daddy’s little girl.

Now they open their legs
like paychecks; like
virginity grows on trees.

Life for them is a tightrope
bowline tied on two dead-ends…

Monday, November 3, 2014

Building Sand Castles For Mermaids

A Woman’s heart is 90% ocean.

The 90% that remains unexplored.
The 90% thats just remains of relation-
SHIPwrecks littering ocean floors.

After tripping down memory lane enough
She starts sweeping the pieces underneath
tidal waves of secrets. Then waves
goodbye to love like one-night stands.

The blueness makes blue our favorite color.

We yearn to skinny-dip into an ocean of Her.
To let Her emotions run deep into the lifeguard
of our arms.

The 10% is what we can’t take our eyes off…

What our hands vogue shadow puppets of at night…
What foxily creeps into our sweet dreams when
we’re sound asleep…that is until we fuck the
angel out of Her.

But don’t worry Love…
I promise somewhere there’s an
island with your name written all over it.

Saturday, November 1, 2014






Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Pothead, Troublemaker, or Plain Old Slouch?

You know the laid back kid in High School
who was always the last one to class and
the first one to leave?

The one that the teacher
would call on just to see if he was paying attention,
even though he never was?

Now this kid wasn’t a jock or anything,
but he made being a loner look pretty cool –
the same way lions make killing look artful.

Its kinda weird you know,
because you see kids like that and
never really know how to classify them.
You don’t really know if he’s a pothead,
a troublemaker, or just a plain old slouch.
At least until you invite him into a smokers circle
and he nicely declines like a square.

But deep inside you admire something about him.

You admire the way he makes peer pressure
look like some far-flung cliched myth.
You admire the way he can skip class
so quietly and not brag about it.

Ha!

Most kids practically sign up for suspensions just so the whole
school can hear their name being called on the loud speakers,
ya know?

Honestly,
I just wish it was more kids out there
who were brave enough to stand out;
who were wise enough to know you didn’t
have to be a stereotype to be somebody.

…Well, we’re all grown now though,
so I guess reminiscing on my petty
High School memories is futile.
They say High School is nothing
compared to the real world.

Ha!

Yeah right.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Follow me on Twitter @TalesOfSuleiman


Monday, October 27, 2014

Seventeen Burling Game

The most honest people are locked in mental asylums...

Having sweet dreams of playing hit the piñata
with a hot air balloon full of pills—
colorful ones that look like
tiny pellets of rainbows in your hand.

I heard they’re suppose to put a straightjacket
on the demons running around in your head,
or something like that.

I’m not sure if they ever do though, but I seen
a couple of test subjects and it seemed like they
put a straightjacket around their spirit instead.  

Anyway,
I believe the “crazy” are another form of Revolutionary.
Another force of Superhero inhabiting the world that swaggers courage.

So the next time you see him/her walking the down the street
and you want to point your stupid little finger and laugh,
please make sure you admire...NO, ENVY!
how easy it is for them to disregard your ignorance
and go on living like KINGS OF THE MOTHAFUCKIN’ JUNGLE!

Follow me on Twitter @TalesOfSuleiman


Wednesday, October 22, 2014

#Emo-jeez

How many emoji’s do you have to send
before the human vanishes out of your heart?

Before the Motherboard of an
iphone cradles your soul?

Before your phone dies like a
suicide bomber and takes you with it?

Has it ever crossed your mind
that when the sun shines too bright to
read a text message than just maybe
its trying to get your attention?

Maybe Mother Nature is no different than
an insecure schoolgirl yearning for compliments;
sashaying bare-skinned into your wildest dreams just
so you can know what the naked truth looks like.

She loves you so much that she’ll turn her skin
into a touch screen just so you can feel her again;
Surgically implant FaceTime Cameras into her eyes
just so you can stare into them forever.