Impulse Control… Poetry

So the Sippy Cup (re:¬†http://dimensionthe5th.com/2013/06/23/hes-awesome-wait-whats-wrong-with-him/¬†) is already getting poetry written about him. Again, this can’t be good, and I’m waiting for bad things to happen. The poetry that came out of it isn’t so bad though ūüėõ

“Impulse Control”

I should take it slow…
I know
As my body reacts differently
Heating at your touch
Melting at your voice
You tell me a song with your smile
And I’m already a puddle

Slow, slow
Even as I move to claim your lips
Your lust, your heart
Taking you inside of me in whatever way possible at this moment

Slowly, slowly
“Let’s not rush,” I whisper to myself
As I take in your scent
The vision of you
Becoming drunk off the fantasies
Pouring through my mind, my very spirit
All connected
My emotions want slow
As my body primes for Now
Impulse control shot to hell and back

It’s simple.
I want.
And I don’t want to wait.

Be the strength of us both, I beg
To slow things down
Slowly, slowly move towards
A heightened feeling of more
Before I take over
And plunge us both
Into an exploding moment of ecstasy

Here’s Another Dribble of Poetry: Stalemate

Again, here’s a bit of poetry that I’m not sure I want people who know me to know about. Just a-writing out my frustrations with relationships. Pffft, I mean the absence of relationships.

“Stalemate”

By dimensionthe5th

I play a game in my head
Where I’m not gun-shy
Or unafraid of getting my feelings trampled
Even though I can barely make eye-contact
Without stuttering when it comes to attraction

I play a game
That I am confident in my romantic thoughts
When it’s more bumbling cowardice
You never know until you try
But over the years…
Trying has become so hard
Bloody inside emotions
Battered, never completely healing

My heart may never again be
Pure and Green like a spring blooming

It wants what it wants
But doesn’t want the hassle
The trial and error
The re-dos
Of feeling out the other hearts motivation
Of hoping not to go down in the flames of lust, love, and like

Can’t live without it,
But can’t live with more disappointment
So instead
A miserable stalemate rules

Sometimes you just got to put those emotions to song…

Or in my case poetry. I have a short little poem about a crush. I cannot write this on my actual FB page because my paranoid personality is sure said crush will somehow read my mind, know it’s about them, and then things would be weird.

I swear I’m not shy, and pretty forward when I’m interested in someone, but my confidence in myself has been totally blown lately. I’m sucking at this whole online dating thing. I mean sucking big honkin¬†blue balls. It seems what I like looks wise doesn’t like me, and what likes me look wise I have no interest in. We could argue over looks not being everything, but I do try to¬†evaluate everyone by just the basics. You know, would I be okay walking down the street with a dude that has a huge unibrow¬†and teeth that looked like they were in an MMA fight all on their own? No.

I’m superficial. Sue me. So are you. You just don’t want to admit it. You don’t want a unibrow man with teeth that could give you a hysterectomy either.

Anyway… So, while the interwebs¬†dating thing is at an almost standstill, I crush on random guys that I shouldn’t. You know, the kind that probably have a whole closet full of issues bursting at the seams, but looks make me say “Me gusta”.

So here, I give my scribbles to the random internets!:

“Lucid Dreaming”

By dimensionthe5th

I can’t have what I want…
Or yet, no confidence in even planning the chase for your lips, your heart

And so, clandestine affairs reverberate throughout my night-time musings

Not dreams, as I control the level of love and lust lucidness that permeates the atmosphere of my mind

Not true to real life, I think, though I’ve never been in such a situation with you

So I just imagine
Arms wrapped around and warmth seeping like a kiss against the goose-pimpled skin of my body

I’m giving myself away, or is it not obvious that I burn like a small sun in your presence?

I must keep the secret, so I’m not hurt by your disinterest.

So I let a rain of lies my mind has made up wash over me, so that you don’t shine so bright in my emotional senses.

And the pretense is that I’m just a no one, a figment on the wind.

Don’t trouble yourself,

And leave me to my imaginings.

March 2013

Frack Me I’m Getting Old! Losing My Love of Hip-Hop

So, growing up my parents listened to all kinds of music. I remember still having a record player with records of Tina Turner, Sting, and some Motown mixes. My mother loved John Cougar Mellencamp. I had a huge crush on Michael Jackson and Prince. I loved Madonna in her early years and loved the bad acting in her movie (wasn’t it called Desperately Seeking Susan?). I even still have a poster of Prince from when the song Kiss came out. It’s Prince and the New Power Generation and in the white background is a huge pair of lips. And of course Prince is in his iconic purple suit. I remember 8 track tapes lying around the house. My first cassette tapes bought especially for me were Salt n Peppa, and also the Wee Poppa Girls. I guess the last group just didn’t make it.

I knew about George Clinton and the Parliament early on. If I could say one thing that my parents love, it was the p-funk music. At one point my dad and friends had their own little club that would have parties in a rented building. I remember being there, the only child, my mom dancing with no rhythm whatsoever to her favorite song “Set It Off”. I remember my mom finding a cassette tape on the ground after leaving a store, Metallica’s Enter Sandman. Did she throw it away? No, we jammed to it in the car, lol. And later on in life, for some reason I can’t explain, if we didn’t go to church on Sunday, we would watch CMT (Country Music Television). As I got older and got into anime, I started adding J-pop and rock to my music lists. And of course loads and loads of hip-hop.

I say that all to say, these days, I’m confused as to what’s popular. I used to love hip hop and rap, but these days I wish for instrumentals to songs instead of the lyrics. I used to use Jay-Z, DMX, and Eminem¬†to listen to as I wrote my angry young adult poetry. Now, I still use mostly older stuff. The gimmick that was the weird gremlin called Lil Wayne has lost its shiny long ago. And I finally flipped from toleration to outright disgust.

So I’m driving along and listening to the local hip-hop station, and this “song” comes on that has a nice beat but is pretty much 75 percent bleeped¬†out. The song’s hook is Drake I believe saying with an echo “I don’t care what my haters say, long as my b*tches love me.” That last part echoes about 4 times. Then there’s the rest of the song, where the word b*tch is said over and over again. So I switch the station, and¬†guess what’s playing?! Are you frackin kidding me?!

So my son and I begin to count how many times b*tch is said. I got lost around 30 something. My son believes he got past 50. Fifty times. The word is said. The whole song is about basically how many awesome groupies Lil Wayne has to bump uglies¬†with. Apparently, some women see something in face-tatted drugged up midget gremlins. I’d rather puke. I’d rather an actual midget like Peter Dinklage from Game of Thrones touch my naughty bits than that disease looking assault on my senses. And little people are one of my top phobias!!!

Maybe I’m getting¬†old. I mean, is this hip hop now? Let me clarify, my favorites were/are not saints by any means. Jay-Z, Tupac, Eminem, the Wu-Tang Clan, DMX. No, these were rough men saying very harsh things. But there was style! As a poet, I picked a part their¬†rapping style, their flow, the way of flipping words and making things rhyme that shouldn’t, making metaphors stretch and flip until you went from Play-Doh to Nickelodeon slime consistency. I loved it for the art of it! When I was angry, depressed, those songs help me write out my frustrations instead of slitting my wrists.

Today? Today’s favorite rappers? 2 Chains, that yells his name constantly and dresses like Rick James? Nicki Minaj¬†who really actually has skill, but is too busy vomiting retardedness¬†on the mic and across our eyescape. She looks like a frackin Pokemon.

My rappers do NOT look like Pokemon.

My rappers can reference anime and pay homage to the kung-fu culture, but they should NOT walk around in cosplay everyday. And bad cosplay. I can totally see her being added as a creature on Digimon or Pokemon or frackin Power Rangers or something. Nicki Minaj РI choose you!

I got sidetracked. I got distracted by the crazy. Ooooooh¬†shiny. Shiny as Minaj’s plastic body part additions.

I don’t remember my parents going through this disgust with the newer artists that came out in my time growing up. Is there something wrong with me? Am I missing something?

All I know is when I first heard “Bandz¬†A Make Her Dance” I assumed it was about actual marching bands… Because I had only half listened to the hook. Until the internets¬†taught me it was about bands of money to make a stripper dance. And I felt ooooooold. And na√Įve.

On a separate note/different genre: why is that big forehead walking vocal chord dissonance known as Rhianna still singing?

Her voice is what I imagine the first level of purgatory to sound like. When her song starts that says “throw it up, throw it up” I literally WANT to throw up. The sounds coming out her mouth is not fit for human consumption.