Monday, November 24, 2025

Spitting Out by Marvinlouis

 

Spitting

Out

 

a

Bobby John Press

Poetic Libretto

 

Marvinlouis

 

 

May be an image of horizon, road and twilight

Surely

some of

you will

think

 

i

am

 

this

crazy

drunk

guy

 

as you

hear me

coming

apart at

seams

 

don’t have

foggi-

est

idea

 

don’t

know

or

why

 

don’t

have

damn clue

to what

i’m doin

with

 

all

these damn

words

 

bein

not so far

stood

yester-

day

 

standing

in front of

crowd sharing

more than just

my name

 

walkin

through

flames

 

makin

no eye

con-

tact

 

its

still

 

so

strange

 

seeing

me this

way

 

who

can

see

 

fig-

ment

of my

imagin-

ation

 

who

can

see

 

pass

con-

fusion

sense-

less

problems

 

who

can

see

 

past

dark-

ness

of my

skin

 

had

this

dream

 

world

color

blind

 

night-

mare

the crap

was real

 

 

my

eyes

wide

o-

pen

 

but

they

couldn’t

see

 

found

door

to-

other

side

 

couldn’t

find

key

 

sud-

denly

was

 

shook wide

a-

wake

 

by

the

sound

 

of my

voice

 

screa-

ming

 

i

had

seen

my-

self

 

sear-

chin

 

for

some-

one

 

called

me

 

 

 

 

May be an image of wingtip shoes

 

Step-

ping

out

 

in-

to

my

own

 

pickin

up

 

scat-

tered

pieces

by

 

my-

self

 

but

not

 

a-

lone

 

there’s

no cure

for this

dis-

ease

so

please

 

pray

for

me

 

don’t shed

any tears

 

or

worry

about

days

 

daring

my-

self

 

to

own

words

 

so you

can feel what

i’m tryin ta say

 

like

flock

in sky

 

all

to-

gether

me

my-

self

 

with

constellations

filled with stars

 

waiting for

another

 

standing-

ovation

sensation

only

to

be

felt

 

once

we have

no hands

May be an image of horizon, cloud and twilight

 

who

can sit

quietly

 

glan-

cing

back

at

not

a-

thing

 

be

happy

with what

eyes see

 

is it

only me

an-

tici-

pating

things

ta come

 

i’m

tryin ta

fly a

way

hate

look-

ing

in-

to

mirror

 

hate

look-

ing

in-

to the

 

things

called

my eyes

 

hate

reflec-

tion

 

starin

back at

me

 

bein

off

the

path

lost

fal-

ling

 

how

many

times

 

who

was

blessed

 

to

get

back

up

 

like

tree

stump

 

has a hard

time ta grow

knowing it was

meant

 

ta

touch

sky

May be an image of hat

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