Wordplay

Tacos in the Rain

TACOS IN THE RAIN

 

Más sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo

And heaven knows this devil's too damn young

You shattered through my shell [then] left me here inside a hell

Of some unholy mole swamp hot as the sun

 

But maybe tacos in the rain will help to put the fire out,

Cause life's still full of lessons left to learn

Yeah, break out the champagne; it's time for tacos in the rain,

I'll toast to you, then watch the world around me burn.

 

From the start [the] love you gave was a salsa to my soul

[But I] didn't know that there were reapers in the mix

And now you're gone, but there's still desire and in your stead, you left a fire
That a barrel of tequila couldn't fix

 

Maybe tacos in the rain will help to put the fire out,

I’m not ready to return to dust and ash
Right now hope is all I got (save for some tacos and a shot).

I'll toast to us and wonder why it couldn’t last.

 

I gave to you my heart; next thing I knew I saw you carve

a molcajete that my tears have since stained and glazed.

To say I’m feeling blue would be an understated truth

Cause “fajita you” is the best I do on darker days

 

Well even tacos in the rain, they couldn't save me from this pain

How to love again is a lesson time will help me learn

Damn soggy tacos in the rain; still, there ain't no use to complain

Maybe I'll try your sister's tortas out instead

Author's Notes/Comments: 

1.9.19


Makes me think of a place or situation that amounts to the evil twin of “Big Rock Candy Mountain.

 

It’s about Heartburn or Heartbreak; you decide.

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Back to Life

She wanted a knight that would protect her and not objectify her.

By the time night came she was lifeless.

Not much was left of her.

Being used for so long, she didn't know what love was.

He wanted to show her that it was okay to be vulnerable.

That it was okay to give her heart to him.

The night shed light on her.

She gave life one more chance.

And was resurrected once she handed him her heart.

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Periodic Table

 

Periodic Table: The Elements of You & Me©

 

 

 

Kyla Bingham (Written circa September-October 2011 – modified January 25, 2012)

 

 

 

 

 

You can call me helium cuz I rise above.

 

Iron shouldn’t float, but that’s exactly what I do cuz I’ve got a core of pure gold, and it’s overlaid with love.

 

Breathe that in, I’m oxygen, breathe so deep, you think your lungs’ll burst.

 

Now add two atoms of hydrogen, cuz I’m all you need to quench your thirst.

 

 

 

But you played fickle and jumped around on me like mercury daring to make my temperature rise.

 

So I was forced to bury you deeper than silver, I had you all the way at the earth’s core and still wasn’t done cutting you down to size.

 

What’s that? Now you’re crying—eyes looking like I threw chlorine in your face.

 

You messed with me and honestly, you woulda been better off eating arsenic—cuz I’m about to chew through you faster than a moth does old lace.

 

 

 

I coulda built you up strong like calcium

 

But you crossed me. So now I must crush you—leave you crumpled like aluminum.

 

Why’d you hafta go step outta line?

 

I didn’t wanna cut you this deep and leave you burning from being doused with this verbal iodine.

 

 

 

You’re faker than breasts of silicon,

 

Weaker than Superman on an IV of krypton.

 

You’re so all over the place; I think you best ask “doc” to up your dosage of lithium.

 

Lord knows I can’t deal with your erratic ways so we can’t go back and we have no future—not even if you had a Dolorian and plutonium.

 

 

 

People like you will never change; wouldn’t help if y’all were made of copper & nickel.

 

So it’s my job to slice you outta my life and cut you down with a decisive swing of my linguistic sickle.

 

After that, I freeze you ‘til it burns, like liquid nitrogen, then leave you teetering on the brink.

 

And just when you think you’re safe, I’ll shove you off the edge, watch you shatter, observe as you rot in the pit of despair until like sulfur you begin to stink.

 

 

 

Did you really think you could compete and outclass me? I’m a flawless, priceless diamond; that much is obvious by my sparkling wit.

 

Whereas you? You’re just cheap zirconium—purely counterfeit.

 

You’re a washed-up has-been, a dingy peon.

 

I’m a glowing marquis for all the world to see—flickering, flashing and lighting up the night like a sign of neon.

 

My mind is full, it’s a forged steel trap, and stronger than galvanized titanium.

 

You’ve got nothing of worth to share—it’s so hollow it echoes inside your cranium.

 

And if these words have been harsh, I can’t and won’t apologize—this is my manifesto of feelings and emotions—there’s simply no stopping or combatin'  ‘em.

 

Besides, why would I even want to fight it? Not when every utterance I make is unadulterated truth and my tongue’s drippings are liquid platinum.

 

 

 

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The Hounds Of Hell {A Poetic Short Story}

Michael's legs were burning as he sprinted down the Ave, his breathing was quite ragged cause the boy was winded bad,
his thought process went back and forth from slow to down on fast, it went that way cause Michael had them hound dogs on his ass.

 

He couldn't for the life of him remember day or year, or where these dogs had ventured from or how did they appear,

all Michael knew for sure was that he had to get away, his choices were just two that's either run or get displayed,

 

like mannequins in windows; picture Bloomingdales or Sears, but this was not a shopping spree; the hounds of Hell were here,

to wreck shit up like people who in error hit the gas, and drive into a storefront leaving smoke and bits of glass.

 

Ol Mike had none of this inside his mind though as he ran, he thought he'd try and ditch these pups somehow; some kind of plan,
was better than no course of action plotted to the full, so Michael ran and he just wasn't stoppin for the bull.

 

The nighttime sky was darker than the skin of Wesley Snipes, and though his lungs were tired he just couldn't rest tonight,
because those hellish hounds were steady closing on him fast, and as he breathed the breath that was supposed to be his last.....

 

A pair of hands came out the dark and pulled him off his feet, then threw him 'cross a shoulder that was running off; retreat,
this mountain of a person moved as fast and swift as wind, behind a slamming metal door; he thought "Who is this friend?

 

that saved me from a hurtin too as well as certain doom?" His body hit the pavement with a loud and cursing boom,
he heard the footsteps walk away with more to take their place, which stopped off somewhere near him and he knew to face the fate,

 

that like a card was dealt to him; a future bound in spades, "There's just no hope" Mike figured so upon that ground he lay,
"Oh Michael" said a voice he knew from some familiar place, a candle then illuminated a familiar face....

 

his mother's; "Holy shit!" Mike yelled, his fears again displayed, she looked quite good for having spent some years up in a grave,
his father's 6'6" stature came and took a knee beside, his mother with a smile that hadn't altered since he died.

 

That must've been who snatched him off his feet and brought him here, his father's strength was something like a myth throughout the years,
Mike calmed his nerves to listen as he willed himself to stay, "We both know that you went and tried to kill yourself today,"

 

his mother said with sadness lightly draped across her voice, "I had to," Mike replied. "I didn't have no other choice,
I lost my job and just don't have the cash to pay the bills, the rent is due; I have no place to crash or stay until,

 

I get back on my feet; I hear these tones inside my head, that say it's harder being homeless than just lying dead,
the last thing I remember is ingesting 50 pills, and then those dogs were chasing me, the rest is pretty nill."

 

Mike's father shook his head and said "Those dogs are born again, inside the deepest realms of Hell and are your mortal sin,
fir tryna kill yourself; don't let 'em catch you it'll be, your flesh within their teeth progressing 6 eternities;

 

if you get caught it's over son but here's another way, if you escape this chase then you can live another day,
with blessings in your favoring to rectify your sin, we now must turn our backs on you; I guess, goodbye again."

 

The metal door flew open and a wind gust blowed him out, he looked and saw those dogs were coming; foaming out the mouth,
with a renewed conviction that his parents had to give, to him Mike started running cause you see he had to live.

 

He ran this time with purpose sprinting hard like Jerry Rice, the plan he'd thought of this time wouldn't be so very nice,
he stopped and as the dogs ran forth he braced to hold his ground, then looked and saw a gleaming metal pole upon the ground.

 

Mike thought how as a kid he would get bullied on the block, he then remembered how he'd come to make those bullies stop,
with weapon firm in hand Mike chose to man up on this night, there would be no more running; Michael chose to stand and fight.

 

The 3 dogs stopped 12 feet from him while pon'dring what the F, they'd never witnessed this before and wondered what was best,
their blazing pupils screamed ATTACK and 12 feet shrunk to 8, the first dog leapt with jaws wide open poised to crush his face,

 

but Michael saw it coming as the first dog ran and jumped, he swung the pole from by his hip while also stabbing up,
the motion was so fluid as the hellhound fell and groaned, from Michael and his actions as the pole impaled his dome.

 

The second dog was right behind the first as Mike withdrew, the pole and swung again connecting; forcing it right through,
the second doggie's right eye; stars shined brightest in night's sky, to shed light on Mike's fight for life while from a high incline,

 

his parents watched on fascinated by their son's resolve, and hoping he would earn a victory in some regard,
if not then they both knew his door to life would close as well, for suicide's the surest way your soul would roast in Hell.

 

The last dog was the biggest and the meanest one of all, but this did not deter Ol Mike to who was gonna fall,
with pole in hand he swung and missed; his right wrist full exposed, the dog bit down with force to leave Mike's arm all full of holes.

 

The stinging pain was followed by a numbness of the hand, and for a reason dear ol Mike would never understand,
the final dog retreated running back into the night, the fight was over forcing Michael back into the light.

 

He came to in the I.C.U. his body full of tubes, and understood the graveyard and the morgue were full of fools,
who took their life successfully and some were bound to fail, but Mike was glad he won his battle with the hounds of hell.

 

©2014
 The Cunning Linguist

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The eternal battle of good vs. evil....with a twist. I've always thought that when we die we have to fight for where our immortal souls go. This piece is one said battle.

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In Your Grave

Folder: 
Mind Candy

Come and take this trip with me I promise it'll be brief, the first stop is your funeral; I promise, it'll be grief,

from all your friends and loved ones yes they all will shed a tear, and wishing you were back with them but you'll be dead for years.

 

The undertaker did his job; you're lookin oh so great, as if you're fast asleep but see the graveyard knows no fate,
just empty promises and broken dreams that weren't saved, you know just where we're goin don't you? Yes we're in your grave.

 

You smell like the embalming fluid racing through your corpse, your blood went down the drain like it was H2O of course,
real talk, for all eternity you're sort of predisposed, to live on as a memory, your body decomposed.

 

Don't think that this is just for you; it's meant for all of us, returning to the earth from which we came; we all are dust,
who're living lives just waiting for the moment when it stops, just think, around the world that ev'ry time a minute drops,

 

another man or woman's lifeline ceases to exist, it's all a great big circle that's not easy to resist,
we all are born to die and as we live we all gon try, to go outrun The Reaper; in the end we all expire.

 

The best that we can hope for is a visit, maybe two, from some forgotten relative that lives on as they do,
til then there's no escaping; like there's water in a wave, nobody lives forever guaranteed; you're in your grave.

 

©2014
 The Cunning Linguist

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Since my little brother's murder, death has heavily invaded my thoughts. This piece is my way of sorting it out....somewhat.

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Daddy's Little Girl {A Poetic Short Story}

In the I.C.U. it seems things go from bad to worse, to little Miss Danisha though it seems her Dad was cursed, 

for all the years he spent inhaling menthol cigarettes, had left him with a cancer of the lungs up in his chest.

 

Danisha prayed to God each night to make her Daddy well, but all that did was make his feet and ankles badly swell,
they wouldn't let her in to see him; said she was too young, at ten years old she had it plotted in her head to run,

 

inside that corner room to give her Dad a final hug, they wouldn't spare a second which to her was time enough,
to bid her Dad farewell as he embarked on one last trip, to hold his hand in silence and to give him one last kiss.

 

Turns out Danisha didn't have to implement her plan, a few days passed before her mother gently gripped her hand,
and led her down the hallway to that room she always saw, the grownups go inside of and her legs could hardly walk,

 

but once they made it halfway then she braced and found the nerve, to kick those apprehensive feelings right on down the curb,
emotions spilled from out her eyes; she tried to hold 'em in, she saw her Dad so skinny you could make out bones through skin.

 

Her mother's grip grew tighter as the bed loomed oh so near, her Daddy smiled at her and whispered "Please don't lose a tear,
on my behalf; I love you, I'll be always by your side, forever; you won't lose me just cuz it's my time to die....."

 

All at once he paused for breath as if he were asleep, Danisha looked down at the floor and witnessed nurses' feet,
excitedly attempting to resuscitate his speech, but all that greeted them was just an awful sound of BEEEEEEEEP.....

 

Her mother paused and just collapsed down to the floor, while begging God Almighty for a minute or two more,
Danisha heard the whisper as her father lay there slack, "I'll always be beside you," cue the music; fade to black.

 

11 Years Later.........

 

The party spot was jumpin, filled with folks from wall to wall, the music had them beaten down as if they all would crawl,
the smell of drugs and alcohol was deaf'ning all and all, Danisha laid there drunk as fuck; she should be carted off.

 

The years had not been kind to her, they'd been just downright mean, she drank and partied constantly since bout the age 19,
her mom had passed away a few short months behind her pop, from using so much heroin and she declined to stop.

 

An overdose had sent her kicking; screaming to the grave, her husband's death releasing teeming demons in its wake,
Danisha moved from foster home to foster home until, she turned 18 and started smoking crystal meth; done deal.

 

She hooked to get the money for the monkey on her back, and boosted clothes as well as doing some things on her back,
11 years disintegrated sumthin like The Flash, with pain and haunting memories a constant aftermath.

 

This night was one of many like the other nights before, her passed out in a club from drugs you know, the life of whores,
but this night would be diff'rent as her head lay dropped in sleep, til someone poked her shoulder, she awoke to Hak and Squeak,

 

2 hungry cats who chased the mouse and did it all for cheese, Danisha saw some dollars and she'd do it all to ease,
that fuckin monkey on her spine like Kong and Donkey time, she may have been an addict but she STILL looked sumthin fine.

 

No words were spoken as she followed them out to the street, the whole hood knew her pricetag; 50 bucks to mouth that D,
she didn't mind becoming the caboose to make a train, as long as when she swalla'd niggas holla'd; make it rain.

 

They walked towards a van with tinted windows all around, Danisha drunk and high as hell could not defend the town,
of niggas that lay wait for her inside that tinted van, before she could react they all had grabbed her wrists and hands,

 

and pulled her in the van's interior; no room to breathe, so many bodies all around; she had no room to see,
she felt the motor boning up as fast as no fillet, the niggas cheered excitement as the van then drove away.

 

3 Hours Later........

 

Danisha couldn't really tell how much time had elapsed, the only thing she felt through all this time laid on her back,
was all the stinkin cats that raped her; ran up in her raw, she put up some resistance but a closed hand to her jaw,

 

eliminated anything resem'bling a dispute, she also caught a kick or 2 from someone's Timb'land boot,
the party lasted long til only Hak and Squeak were left, she closed her eyes and prayed for peace of mind by seeking death.

 

"So what we gonna do with her?" Squeak asked while pointing down, Danisha's whimp'ring tears delivered such a poignant sound,
to Hak who couldn't figure out what smelt of gas and feet,
they didn't hear Danisha praying "Help me Daddy please."

 

The nighttime sky erupted with a thunderbolt that shook, the very ground they stood on plus the van and both the crooks,
the lightning quickly followed as Danisha knelt with ease, she threw both arms up screaming loudly "HELP ME DADDY PLEASE!"

 

The buzzing grew in volume further scaring Hak and Squeak, as unseen forces daring came and knocked 'em off their feet,
the buzzing sound was louder now; Hak's leg was damp with pee, he watched her eyes roll back while yelling "HELP ME DADDY PLEASE!"

 

Danisha found her body now just wasn't very sore, a man stood in the midst of them who wasn't there before,
her father as he looked before the cancer ate away, his health he smiled and winked at her which made him fade away.

 

The 2 thugs on the ground were shaking hard releasing tears, and it was at that instant when the father reappeared,
they couldn't take their eyes off him; translucent was the ghost, that stood before them speaking in a cooler groove than most,

 

"You gang-rape my poor daughter now you plan to take her life?! So here and now I promise that you're gonna pay the price,
which y'all may deem a bit too high but see I'm pissed tonight, you'd take advantage of an addict while she's in the sky?!

 

By that I'm meaning much too high to make the proper call, but I have God's permission see to put a stop to all,
the condescending sinning that you both have done for years, I have a happy ending that'll have you BOTH in tears!"

 

The hoodlums tried to scamper but they no longer controlled, the actions of their bodies plus their dongs were both on swole,
"You both are in my hands," the father yelled with sumthin else. "I hereby order both of you to go and FUCK YOURSELVES!"

 

Danisha and her father witnessed Hak undressing Squeak, and Squeak undressing Hak as if they both were best of freaks,
they begged Danisha's father "PLEASE!" while on the verge of tears, with vengance in the air there were no words that he would hear.

 

He made them practice acts that no 2 men should ever do, for hour after hour til they both were red and blue,
and after all was said; their bodies spent and left for dead, they held their pistols on each other; BANG! a mess for heads.

 

Danisha came to shivering to see her daddy's ghost, as well as both mens' heads severely buttered as in toast,
her father's spirit shimmered as he waved a last goodbye, while whisp'ring in the morning wind "I'm ALWAYS at your side."

 

Danisha cleaned her whole life up; no boostin no more drugs, no longer did she drink until she passed out; no more clubs,
her life is best described as being happy in this world, and all because she cherished being daddy's little girl.

 

©2014
 The Cunning Linguist

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Writing regular poetry no longer works for me. I've chosen to tell stories with my poetry and being a die-hard Stephen King fan, I thought of my daughter and this piece was born.

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The Simple Truth

Folder: 
First

The simple truth, 

Is just stupid,
It is nonsense!

 

But, it works...

Somehow it does.

Today and tomorrow,

 

As time goes,

As it dwindles,

 As it stops,

 

And Man?

You ask?

"why then?"

 

"Is it simple?"

Stop asking questions!

That are not,

 

So very simple,

So very true,

And happily so...

 

We ask too much.

 

And are unworthy.

To know more,

Than what is.

 

So very simple,

And very elegant,

That it repeats,

 

It is more,

Than it's self,

More than twice.

 

Exactly trice,

But not more,

And not exact.

 

For it does brake.

It always does again.

 

Therefore it does,

But does it?

Do simply anything.

 

Random or not,

Quite simply put,

The simple truth.

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

comments?

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Sex Scenario: Heat

I woke up in the AM with a smile stuck to my face, excitement of the subconscience, you're coming to my place,
we haven't seen each other in uhm, 3 to 6 long weeks, the weatherman predicts this day as sticky thick on heat.

The index may just see a yard before it's 10 o'clock, and humid like the depths of Hades, baby swimmin hot,
until bout 12 o'clock that's midnight, things like this remain, but even that won't keep me from positoning your frame.

It's been a while for both of us to think or reminisce, on top of that the central air AND sink are on the fritz,
a visit from your sis prohibits your house as the stage, so one way or the other, both of us are gonna blaze,

the essence of our bodies while we do what grownups do, I get my cleanup on with knowledge you'll show up at 2,
and when I see you standing there I'm so in love with you, emotions overwhelm me but I know just what to do.

The air is very stuffy with the windows open wide, I ask if you'd prefer to go outside and take a ride,
the look that's in your eyes reflect a lustful state of mind, our mouths embrace and finds our tongues have claimed a place inside.

The heat resigns the both of us to take off all our clothes, I kiss away a bead of sweat that slow rolls down your nose,
the bed seems like a million miles away so down we go, to roll around the floor but yo, the carpet's clean fa sho.

It feels as though the Devil sits and watches in the flesh, our torsos are contorted and severely washed in sweat,
which we don't mind a bit, the loving sets our mind adrift, like ocean liner ships we sail a sea of finer bliss.

The heat is now titanic, feels like sandwich meat we breathe, you stand me up with ease to then descend like night degrees,
you see, me being me, can't let you do it all this time, increased oppressive heat recipric'lly we 6 this 9.

To dine this way is something like a meal fit for a king, I'm purring like a kitten whilst I'm licking up your cream,
and no it's not a dream, we're wide awake and steamin out, I'll call you ice cream cone the way you melt and cream my mouth.

You then are quick to mention that I offered you a ride, your skills to clutch a stick are of an automotive style,
like Yukon trucks and Escalades, you're of the highest end, you hop up like a rabbit as my carrot slides right in.

The heat increases moisture so of course you're dripping wet, you steer your hips with vigor til your forehead's dripping sweat,
about my neck and facial features straight into my eyes, I'm blind as I arrive releasing frion up inside.

A Gatorade will work for me as water works for you, we've both decreased our weight a pound or maybe even 2,
to hear the sudden woosh of central air is peachy sweet, we turn it off to get it on cause nothing beats the heat.

©2011

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This effort came to me on an extremely scorching day last summer, basically to say that even without any AC, it STILL wouldn't stop a sex scenario.

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Suicide (GoodBye)

Disclaimer - This piece doesn't depict any true events, nor does it describe my current state of mind. It is what it is, creativity at its finest. Enjoy (or not).

I lay in bed and look up at the ceiling late at night, the same as many nights before, but sumthin just aint right,
I'm fighting major drowsiness and yes I'm kinda shook, I hope it doesn't hurt those 40 sleeping pills I took.

I'm tired of the life I'm living cause it's all a joke, I try and mask my misery with alcohol and smoke,
the pain is cause for laughter even though it badly hurts, I talk and badly slur I guess it's gone from bad to worse.

I think about my daughter growing up without me here, I'm sorry Stinky Faces, Daddy's thinking thoughts through tears,
emotions mixed with medicine, my thinking's not too clear, I'll miss the coming years in which to chase away your fears.

It shouldn't have ever come to this, it really isn't fair, I should've took assistance but my pride just didn't care,
the weight's become too burdensome for mind and soul to bear, I get up, try to walk and fall face first into a chair.

I'm on the floor and leaking from the gash above my eye, commercials on the TV say to kiss my ass goodbye,
but it's not really saying that, it's all inside my mind, so funny what you hear when on the verge of time to die.

I'm thinkin on my peoples and I'll damn sure miss them so, there's Chosen, Nikki, Lady Ice, D. Sweets plus Lou and Stone,
the E.P.I.C. Fam, my homie Rich, bright lights just make me stare, it feels like something's grabbing at me, baby take me there.

My thoughts soon turn to Wifey and the pain that she'll endure, to fix whatever ails me God I wish she had the cure,
I'm happy I won't live to see the hurt that's in her eyes, to know I caused this for my baby, I deserve to die.

The blood loss leave me motionless, the pills have hit their stride, with visions of the park I rode my bike in all those times,
so long ago when I was young but times have rolled on by, my final thought is of my child and then I close my eyes....

Goodbye.

©2011

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is the most serious effort I've ever written. Over the span of a week, I saw 9 different news reports of someone who committed suicide. I asked myself what could possibly be so bad that a person would want to take their own life? The creative side of me then adapted the mindstate of wanting to die for whatever reasons that would be deemed unbearable. In spite of the delicacy of the subject matter, I'm very proud of this particular piece and it stands as one of my personal favorites.

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