Skulls In My Chest

On Caring & Greedy Selfish Lies

2010-09-27T12:34:00.000-07:00

On Caring & Greedy Selfish Lies
Sylvester C. Richards, III
9-27-00

There’s a forthcoming truth that emerges when we take a conscious look over our shoulder. I don't know how I know this or exactly what it means. This truth, we seek. This awareness in hidden sight dials down the noise momentarily to give us clarity.

Face it - life is loud. There is an uncertainty about the world we’re creating and the world already fashioned around us. What we see is often covered in something we don’t see; visual noise.

We think we know that someone wished for and the way to them. Or, the one who’ll lead us somewhere else entirely. But, we only know what we know. We don't know what we don't know yet. This still fazes me. The body’s idle silence is stirred by the alarm of its busy brains screeching wheels.

Out of the not caring so much phase but secretly caring too much that you forgot about chunks of time. How long have I not been caring? How long have I not been cared for? How long have I not cared for myself? It’s almost like these blocks of time create headspace for something significant to come into the room – [Perhaps, the meaning of ones life.]

I heard this in that clear space. Gaps in time are like breathing room. Time spans. You need those gaps. They’re like spaces between paragraphs in the mind.

Then, I came across this isolated thought: [It has to do with how we care for others. Being human is about humanity.]

For example: Finding a mate is such a selfish act that it won’t produce the right person for us. It produces more selfishness. Selfishness is saying that I am so selfish that the best person for me is me. So invariably you end up with you. You are your only possibility. Or, someone who is equally selfish, but it won’t last because the world doesn’t want to produce more selfishness.

Caring generates unmatched opportunity to care and be cared for by the unselfish. The world gives unparalleled choices to us when we aren’t selfish. Choices and decisions are up to us but when we care; we prove that we can make better choices and make better decisions. Thus, we receive better choices and decisions. You don’t get what you ask for immediately. I think you get what you are. When you know what you are. Then, you know what to ask.

Something in that sentence implies a truth that is fundamental that isn’t owed or earned. Ultimately, the step towards caring is a step towards being cared for sooner rather than later. Are you ready to stop being selfish and find your truth through caring?

It comes down to this. Someone you thought you cared for will still care for you even when you started to care for someone else. And even when the new someone finds that the old one cares; the old and the new will wrestle in your heart until the care of all persons is represented, respected and reintroduced.

See, no one really knows the power of care. That’s why time plays a part and let’s you see how the tree you planted - or - how the flower you gave is doing. We are either giving life or decaying. Is the wind blowing through your trees? Are things still green? Don’t assume. Don’t guess. Rediscover!

When was the last time you truly cared for another? When was the last time you really cared for yourself? Care brings about a set of issues, worry and concern that we try to avoid. That’s why we have a void. So we ignore out of ignorance. We toil only to tolerate. But we don’t really care. To care is too much. No, to care is too easy. How complicated is that? Care revisits and reveals.

Haven’t you ever found yourself pretending to know what you were doing while trying to care for someone? I bet they pretended to allow themselves to receive such pretend care with their own set of pretend emotions. Oh yeah, we’re all good and capable of showing pretend emotions and that’s ok. It’s generative and energizing. It gives ground for something.

But, if you want something real; keep reading. You can’t pretend to read. To read is not to pretend. That’s why stories are so real. I write with real emotion. My writing is what makes me real. It’s me in action. It’s me being real.

When someone pretends; something happens. It’s not a lie if it’s sincere. Something brave happens. Pretending becomes a real demonstration of bravery. I think when we dare to care or commit to the dare. Courage kicks in. A new reality takes over; a kind of glue that could be interpreted as care or caring.

Have you ever sensed that someone cared about you? Has that person ever said that they didn’t? It wasn’t enough to tell your real emotions such pretend words. It is ironically crass but still has the polish of brass. So, we take the ill gruff as gold and we say to ourselves. Yes, you do. You do care.

Somehow, we know that not caring isn't an option. To care is all there is. So if they don’t; we do. If they do; we don’t. Nevertheless, one part always cares.

This brings me to this: Care brings us to care because forever is so momentary. Care is the action in our lives. When we find ourselves inactive; we inactively care. Care is always caring on a small scale for something more substantial.

Respectively, love always loves. But, love or the use of the word love complicates the mental image in the mind and abstracts the hearts shape. Love produces an illusive image.

We want to identify love as a color. Love can’t be seen in the mind as one thing because love is in fact many things. To love is to let your mind explode. So, sometimes love is red. Sometimes blue. It’s a sophisticated purple. It’s a sultry hot pink. It’s not black and white. Or, is it? As long as it is substantial, then it’s worth pursuing.

Maybe the brain and the heart got together and created care. Care is many little pieces that make us up. Maybe the color of care is khaki and peach. I think care flows through us and determines the subtle or sudden change of color in the skin and in the voice. Sort of like how eyes don't have to be lips in order to smile. There’s something warm behind eyes that care in little pieces.

In contrast, I would contend that if you aren’t caring or being cared for by someone. Then, you are giving someone the treatment or receiving the treatment figuratively and sometime literally from someone.

Treatment, hmmm; now there's a word. We hear it used when one has been blamed as self damaging or suffered abuse by the hand of deceit and destruction. How are they treating you? Or, I need treatment for some disease.

If every one cared; people would not need treatment. Fact is, we are all treated differently because proper care is such a mystery. It’s a mystery because care is so unaccepted.

Yet, people will accept false treatment. The same type of treatment used on a variety of individuals. Group treatment for individuality is a bucket of crap. It says there is no individuality. Just crap. Take it!

Crap is slang for defective. People pay to not be defective. People pay to see crap. Two ways to profit off the same lie is good for the business of deceit. Most cases, you aren’t defective at all. Someone sees the dollars in you. Most cases you are better than the rest and worth more than the plastic pennies they give you.

Lack of genuine care pushes us to believe lies. Lies have motives. Motives conceal their plastic weapons and shoot you with blanks but the world thinks you’re dead. If you’re dead, no one has to care. I’m so alive right now.

Caring is going out of style. Caring is being put out of business. Learning to care for yourself and others is urgent.

Do you see yourself as an individual? Do others view you as being different? Believe me. They don’t say that to celebrate you. They say it to extract something you have into their dirty water and force someone else to drink it.

They’d rather distort your individual truth because greed is stupid. Most people can’t figure themselves out but are good at picking others apart if you let them. Their appetite for those with substance is disgusting. You don’t have to take anyone’s crap. Their aim is to make you feel or think that you are crap. But, it isn’t you. It’s them. They are crap.

Some people pride themselves on their ability to take more crap than the next person. So, those are the three choices. [1.Crap on others, 2.Take more crap than anyone, and, 3.Give up being human.] You’re only real choice is don’t take any crap – period. To take crap means that you don’t care about yourself. If you cared about yourself; you wouldn’t take that shit.

Honestly, looking at the condition like this isn't as cut and dry as I stated because all of us are all of these things all the time. Some struggle internally at more dormant levels. Dominance is about using the right tactic.

In fact, I suspect the push and pull of every force is in process of restoration. Whether it’s creative, destructive, enforced, or, subtly implied; they all bleed and scream for a sense of balance but their just kicking a can and turning over buckets.

Fill the bucket. Empty the bucket. Everything is turned over on its side. Care stands us back up. But only the brave can care. I dare you to try. If you aren’t brave. You don’t even have the courage to fail. I am brave. Can you say that? Do you believe it?

Care use to be protection. Now it’s prescription. Prescription is easily sold as sympathy and sympathy doesn’t save anyone. Truth is you can't pay for someone to care for you. Your forever is momentary because it is monetary. My forever is now because my care is now.

You are a source of income for someone else. How unoriginal. How mindless. How soulless.

In conclusion, many people feel like crap daily due to a lack of proper care. They become a mass collection of bucket people that get kicked and emptied. They start to treat each other even crappier. I suppose its denial. Maybe it’s a way to step on the head of someone else to climb out of the bucket for survival.

It's the cheapest, fastest inhumane way to feel better without a diagnosis. It’s the opposite of care. It’s called attacking.

Today, attacking is the norm. Attackers are the new majority. Attackers try to profit but their reward is pain. They do not gain any added days on Earth. Their last will always be their miserable last.

Only a few know how to care. Caring is so powerful and too concentrated to dilute. It’s like a modified weapon. Care beautifully destroys the attacker from the inside out.

Remember, anyone can smile. Not everyone who smiles back cares. And, just because they don’t smile back; doesn’t mean they don’t care. Clearly, they don’t know how. They have been shut down by greedy selfish lies. But, there will be a forthcoming truth. Oh they will care! They will care indeed.

Even if it kills me; I will care for me, for you, for them, and, for all the little pieces that make me bigger!

88 Parargraphs

2010-02-05T14:09:00.001-08:00

88 Paragraphs
by
Sylvester C. Richards, III
(The Alleged Lover)
1-11-2010 12:51am

Hold your breath. She is the something good that I heard was happening; The depth of my humanity. My life signed like art. Life's puzzle - solved. I see everything I want to happen in a silver band around her wrist; circulating.

Valerie, let me take my coat off. I won't need a pen tonight. I will spill this on you. It will be a splash to dampen you and make vapor disperse from your spine. These are your paragraphs; 4,268 words. It took a week. I had 88 paragraphs in my mind.

The miraculous glided through the room and lifted me up. It gave me a certain kind of knowing. At some point, the lonely realize that they aren't alone. We are like babies laughing. Then, our hunger cries. We pause. Then, catch our breath in liquid mega pixels. Curiosity feeds our instinct and we crawl to an oasis. You can't tell me that what I see isn't real. [click] [send]

However, people typically seem unaware. They don't seem so courageous either. I dare to become more aware of her in stillness. Deep into her beautiful presence, I find my existence. I crawl slowly. A flower blooms as its need for affection increases. I can stand. I can reach her. She is the sun. Her affection for me unfolds the future. She helps me organize my human emotion, breathing in sync near and far from Valerie.

Knowing her makes me realize that we are like puzzle pieces that fit into some wonderful dreamers dream by which we've been led to each other. It happens with or without looking for it. We meet. In order to dream with our eyes open and sleep with our minds awake.

We enter into one another's heart. We stand on our toes to drink water. We put our head under a love faucet. Drowning our face in thought. They change the liquid level and color inside our plastic cup. We carry this cup with us and stare into the images before us. I see her pouring egg nog out her index finger and rum from her thumb. She stirs my world.

One moment reconnects me to a larger half-real and half-imagined moment. It is like a picture painted with all the glances, little winks and blinks shared between me and Valerie. The picture comes to life, now that we've encountered and discovered each other deeper. These moments help complete my hearts invisible image with more moments with her.

My special woman keeps me from falling. Even when I can't see her and she is where she needs to be. She narrates my journey until I am where I need to be. I am putting it together while her spirit walks with me.

One day, I will be the ghost that walks with Valerie? I will play her music whenever she sees a chandelier. She will dance with me.

I recall lyrics to a song by Men at Work. "Who could it be now?" It says, "I can't see the future; It's my imagination that keeps on calling me."

I think at some point we've imagined our future and life takes a snapshot. I looked at a million faces. I found my future in her eyes. Life tells me to get up and go to her. I listened and life put her right in my path. I looked over my shoulder. I saw her and knew. It is up to us to keep imagining our reality. I imagined Valerie.

Often, we find them just before giving up. Sometimes they find us. Sometimes, our future is someone behind the counter taking our order for a cup of coffee.

My future doesn't take orders. My future doesn't give orders either. It suggests what I already feel. My future intensifies my desire. My future wants to give me more but, gives me just enough. My future motions with her eyes. My future has dexterity and emotional independence. My future wonders if I'm listening. My future knows I'm dying to hold her. I am following my future wherever she goes. I am embracing her.

My future was sitting at a little table with her back turned to the entrance; drinking the cup of coffee I didn't get because, I imagined I was the cup in her two hands. The future was waiting for me. Her face was already in my mind.

Sometimes, I am the future; The empty cup. I am not the coffee contained inside. I don't think it's about the coffee. And, I don't believe it's about the cup. I think she and I both agree that it is all about the steam. I'm like the future steam beneath her lid. Slowly finding my way beneath her nose and around those deep mysterious eyes that pull me beneath her clothes, under her skin, into her blood, through her heart, and into the future.

I look in her eyes from the corner of my eyes and I see a new world. I look at her directly and she looks away. Then, she looks back and I see the future watching me. I see Valerie. Her eyes are pretty.

Finding the future can be tough. Some people are corner pieces. Some are tops. Some are bottom pieces and/or sides. I like to call them outside pieces. So, we start putting the edges together first. Generally, trying to frame something that is not there. Why try to frame what "isn't" before it "is"? Some things aren't meant to be. Valerie "is".

It was like finding the green ball under a broken coconut. Then, with her expressive fingers and her soft parenthetic lips. She whispers, in the wind, "I'm here." She urges me to speak and laugh. Also, she urges me to take notice and capture her, freely admire her, and inhale her steam. I watched her breathe in black, wearing dark denim jeans. I didn't have to look, at some false illusions that would leave me empty; Like a magician's magic. She is the real thing. She is not my entertainment. I am not watching a disappearance act.

Truthfully, the future shouldn't be hard to imagine when the woman is as beautiful and well put together as Valerie. Don't worry when you get there if the future can't remember your name. You have to tell the future who you are again and what you want to do.

The future is a place where names don't matter. You aren't important. Then, you become more. Belong to someone special that you have seen in a dream.

She wants to be yours as much as you want to be hers. Then, you both go from pathetic romances to power-couple. You go from now - into the future.

I found an inside piece. Inside pieces are the main pieces to the puzzle. They are the good parts in life. They show us the important things like what we can become. She helps me flourish. She sees my potential. She encourages me to move outside my fences.

Now, I want her more. I want the woman in a frame, breathing on the glass, a portal on my wall. Basically, I want the future on a nail. I'll turn my head sideways. I won't let dust settle on what she is showing me.

I won't put her new picture in an old frame. Nor, will I put a frame on the wall before her picture is in it. I learned that lesson last time.

Who has frames on their wall without pictures anyway? Maybe, people admire the ridiculous. Perhaps, people left with missing content. Possibly, some dreamer with a broken heart does. An old modernist could.

Call me a minimalist. I've stared at my blank wall for some time. I was trying to solve this puzzle by filling up my bare wall with empty things. My mind is a gallery of snow. She shakes me.

Her puzzle pieces are the shape of my heart. Her eyelashes reset my clock. She can hold me across forever in both hands while I kiss her finger tips and scribble love notes in her palms.

I want to ask her, "Valerie, will you lay down next to me? We've been standing for so long. Give me your hand. Share my world. Let me touch the nape of your neck. Let me bring you a pillow, candles, and rose pedals with the same soft sophistication and provocative lure that attracts me to you like an animal."

We should deny our adult upright posture and lay face to the sky like children with our backs in comfort. We should be tickled by our destiny. It twists like her lean attractive pink and tan body taffy. Destiny pulls and pushes us like sticky passion till love is all tangled up with pleasure and pain. And, the only way to untangle it, is with more stretching, pulling, pleasure and pain.

I want her bubble gum colored tongue because her sultry mouth on the inside is a candy factory. I want to work inside that factory. I want her to open her mouth and show me to my machine. [Sigh]

I want to make something and be productive. I don't need any training. She can show me where the e-stop button is. I want her to see how hard I work. I won't look at the clock. I won't worry about going home until it's all done and the whistle blows. "How was your day baby?" How do you think it was? I made lots of candy safe and, accident-free.

Time has been more revealing, lately. At first, Valerie sent me black and white pictures. Recently, the opportunity to get captured in color made it more evident that we should develop more. I probably smiled more inside. I understood the flash. Things don't develop in an instant. But, in an instant - we clicked before that pose took place.

So much is already in motion. My current surroundings are no longer true. I am in California in my mind.

She says she doesn't cook. But, being in the kitchen with her was like a ballet. My meal was Valerie; A baby-doll. Twirling floating and fluttering her long graceful limbs, midnight-2010 hair and lashes on a white paper plate.

I stood in awe of her, as she whimsically sock danced around the kitchen with my imagination before we dined. Who needs to eat? Stardust came down from the lights above the stove. The images I saw in her shinny dark hair were like jewels that her beautiful mind projects.

Love waved at me every time she turned her head a few degrees, lifted or dropped her chin. The light made love to her body and the shadows cried.

I like when she looks away and love falls down her back like syrup. Her frame wrapped in golden brown, wet sticky and religious skin dipped in time is gorgeous. She is sexy and I want her like fame.

She doesn't need a dress to be elegant. I'm enamored by her. She floats some more in black and silver lace socks across a beautiful hard wood floor. The floor is beautiful because her toes touch it. She gets into my grooves as well.

The way she moves makes love slide down her neck, over her back, around her side, under her breast, into her naval. Then, love drips onto feminine fabric where her legs meet. Her sexiness stems from her core.

*TO FINISH THE OTHER 44 PARAGRAPHS PLEASE PURCHASE THE BOOK IN IT'S ENTIRETY. THANK YOU FOR READING AND I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE FIRST 44 PARAGRAPHS. PLEASE POST YOUR COMMENTS TO ME. YOUR FEEDBACK IS VALUED. PUBLISHING IN PROGRESS. COMPLETE BOOK WILL BE AVAILABLE ELECTRONICALLY IN FLASH, WORD, PDF, PAPERBACK & AUDIO FORMATS (MP3 & WAVE). LISTEN FOR THE AUDIO SOUNDTRACK 88 PARAGRAPHS ON PIANO. COMING SOON. CHECK WITH ME LATER FOR PRE-ORDERS.*

SHARK GAMES

2009-09-21T12:41:00.000-07:00

she was laying on her concrete back
blood red lips on a cigarette
smoking by the pool

on a day when the sun ain't shine
and it rained on her sad pretty face
light from my eyes filled that black sky
after she gave me a smokers kiss
clouds don't get me down
i'm your 3 cherry jackpot
born to win butt lucky enough to loose sometimes

i'm walking over getting cool
watching but not watch'n smooth
inhaling and blown her soul around
she rolled her eyes and smiled
but I gave her my toughest grin
looked like she was crying
a teardrop rolled from behind her sunglasses
and danced down her naked cheek

so wut if she was crying
i'm sure her tears are magic
and i'm her loves magician when I speak

i'm gonna be the one to make you laugh
when i pull your bent little card and guess your heart

now baby ain't i the one today
ain't i the one always
we jumped in the pool
kept our clothes on
her dress moved in the waves likes a song

u wanna play shark wit me
i ain't NO teddy bear
you can smoke this underwater baby
look at this burning blue wet fire
now all your tears are dry down here
we aint even breathing
tonight i'm gonna swim with candy
cuz candy was her imaginary name
somebodies gonna get bit
while we play shark games

See Through Blindfold (new)

2009-07-30T13:12:00.001-07:00

I wondered once while laying in bed, thinking in the dark. Do angels breathe? Are they just waiting to take the air inside our lungs? More than our faces. More than our words. More than our dreams.. Breath is everything. Would you agree? I will tell you more. This story is called see through blindfold.

Let's start here. I don't want to bore you with too much. I have to self edit for time sake. There's a modest amount of things I don't remember anyway. But, there are less than modest things I will never forget.

My life has always been interesting. I suppose we're all writing stories everyday. I'm really a simple kind of guy but sometimes life gets complicated. There were times of resistance and times of pursuit. Moments of reflection about Who and what we are; current, past and so on.

I'm an observer, generally. But I like the action too. People see what they want to and see. You hear it all the time. Everyones looking for something. Until, they find
something else when what they want doesn't appear.

I think I'm honest, descent, likable. Some say a mixture of cool, smart and fun. I guess I have a strong but quiet kinda vibe. Am I good am I bad?

But aren't we all everything and nothing at the same time? Strong yet fragile people and races. I mean we don't have the strength of animals but we try to harness what we can.

We are vibrant possibilities facing the clock every minute. Aware of our weakness and lack of time. Trying to make it happen right? Thinking, not thinking, using, and not using our minds and bodies.

I'm usually warm but can be cold when I'm involved with an idea. I think people like me when I'm feeling good & just being silly.

At the same time women can sense a certain sadness but just don't know what to make of it. It's generally there own. I'm kind of a blank wall to project on.

We swim around and drown playfully at times via my auras blue screen. Then, resurface. Guess I can be hard to read which translates into occupied in thought. A certain self satisfaction. Thrills, yet lonely nights as well.

My face doesn't always say what's on my
mind. Sort of delayed reaction to rapid imagery. At times the audio isnt in syn with the movie. You know what that's like.

Does sound have to make sense visually?
Can word be opposite of expression? I think
so. I tend to look for and give off deeper meaning if you look into or listen to me longer. But, time forbids the looking and listening of all things deep and flattens them.

Our brains aren't flat. The world ain't either. Can you think three dimensionally. Are you 1 or 2 dimensional? I think there is a distortion with everyone at times. I think I can see on all those levels. I think I'm bored with site just right now.

I think most people
think in color but some in black and white. I like to break it all down and just think in the dark until the thought becomes light.

How to think in the light involves seeing things in natural light. Ability to see things and people for what they are. Artificial light is what we want to see or want someone else to see us as. I think it's still mostly dark deception. Funny how people with brighter light are used the most.

Grey is still that I don't know yet quality. I like that and grey is my favorite color because I am drawn to the unknown. In reverse, people are drawn to me because I'm dark, light, colorful, and grey at the same time. Wether, in stick figure mode
or 3D.

Social anti-social, freak control, high low volume and contrast. Radio static soul; looking for the right channel because a channel holds. On and off, we want to be held before we behold above and below, foreground, middle and background mode.

As people our eyes look for other eyes and what's behind them to answer the question. Is it ok? Are they ok? Am I ok? My eyes are looking for the sounds and images in my mind. I've seen some pretty girls but I'm not always about the eyes.
Sometimes you have to use your nose to hunt.

I can touch but does that mean I feel? My ears are listening for her voice but can I hear? It comes down to breathing. Who and what makes you breathe faster? Do I? Is it the way I think. Or, is it the way I make you breathe?

Breathing is key to the mind and body. If I make you breathe in a positive way that you respond strongly mentally and physically to. Then, I have restarted you in some minor or major way depending on your delay of realization. Do you have a fast or slow neural process? Do you walk fast or slow? Do you write fast or slow? How's your breathing? Have you been restarted?

I wondered once while laying in bed, thinking in the dark. Do angels breathe? Are they just waiting to take the air inside our lungs? More than our faces. More than our words. More than our dreams.. Breath is everything. Would you agree? I will tell you more. This story is called see through blindfold.

Breathing Under Chocolate Water

2009-07-30T12:16:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

How do i put this? It's kinda wut I want you to keep with you forever. A poem for my special friends. This is for you. I came to this by asking the question to you in a text. "Can you breathe"...to 5 of my truest heartfelt friends. We are all on alternate timeliness but somehow share a special part of life and each other through relationships. Thanks for being part of the air that keeps me breathing under water in chocolate. Truly, this was a silly question but with serious implications of the heart and mind. Here is the result of my strange writing process.

All things have a tempo and you are part of my musical chronology of art and sound. I love you for the gifts you bring and when there seems to be nothing...There is this. A continuous, evocative and unified friendship. Worldly and eternal. Not just for the time being. Time transcends into eternity with angels like you as friends.

1 angel prepares my mind (Susie), 1 gives me patience (Anita), 1 gives my heart direction (Brittany), 1 answers my questions without words (Melody) and 1 sets limits so I can hope for things eternal (Rosita).

Here's to Angels in this life. I drink with you in little sips. I wish you big bites of happiness and hope you will continue to breathe underwater in chocolate with me. You are my eyes and ears. The soundtrack to my life.

Love,

Syl

Listen to my music, View my art at cringe, & Read poetry here!

2009-06-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

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Sylvester Richards
Checkout my art and design services below:http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

She Goes With A Virgo

2009-06-08T11:04:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

She goes with a Virgo
just so you know
he loves her like the sun does the sky
but cheats in his mind
and sneaks out to write
something new cuz he keep something new all the time

One time while cheating with a view of the moon
I heard angels say he's gonna fly soon
he’s ready
got his his guitar in tune
and his mind state cool

He's a Virgo
She knows she goes with him
Like dreams do with rhymes

I sleep wit crooked dimes
and wake up wit straight lines
I transcribe my transgression

Most people aint honest about their sin
but I'm glad
I AM
Finally seeing the big picture
sin is big

you live, you die—pleasures fades
I'm in between birth and expiration

Life, You gotta take it
wrestle that shit
Some will never taste DEATH –

if you don’t go wit a Virgo?
Then this is what you missing
love is our strength and weakness

It's real and you feel it
my ink is under her skin
I'm so deep I got tattoos on my skeleton

Her body is my mental canvas
I'm an artist- A symbol
DEFINING MY SPIRIT

Sometimes people don’t appreciate it
At best I'm a poet ain't that enough -
Tell my story from beginning to beginning
there’s never really an ending to our thoughts
Imagine what that does for the pen, the brush, beat machine, 6 strings, horns
the keys in our palm and the song in our heart

gifts from God
Free from the world but slaves to our jobs

I'm trying to see Heaven
WHERE THERE WONT BE Barriers for light
I pray like graffiti and spray God on the wall of my dome

much was given
stop stealing from yourself
record, erase, rehearse, fall apart, deal wit it,
Learn ya lesson
BUT cant nobody tell me nothing

I'm sharp, girls keep band aids
I ain't man made, who's your daddy

we are the answers sometimes forgetting what you mean
when you mean so much to us
I'm quiet
thinking about past, present and future bullshit
tense

Questioning those who question us
Ask yourself
Don't confuse genius with madness recognize passion
so much I can pass it but you wont catch it
your eyes can't see what your mind can't grasp

Virgo

Bury My Tomorrows

2009-06-08T10:59:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

Bury my tomorrows under the stars
The joys imagined are descriptions described by sorrow
Dreams as I prefer to call them
Some say Lies to myself or great promises told to the world
To get through tough moments
Dark days and times under the stars

In this dark night let the fearless stars shine bright
Burn new visions in our mind
set dimensions for the common man, simple child, broken hearted, sinner,
Disappointed mothers, distant fathers, inmates, accusers, abusers, losers, choosers,

Shine on us
so we don't give up under Gods ever changing sky

Let us be courageous like in our grandmothers glasses
To press forward and go further through the night
high above life’s mountains and deep below troubled waters

shine hope down on us so we can be newness sparkling
Oh little star, Oh pretty star, your star and my star
shine on the man with everything, shine on the girl with nothing
even the dog without a bone
Shine till shadows around our head are gone

Fill our eyes with tomorrows stars

Sometimes

2009-06-08T10:58:00.001-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

breathe sometimes
laugh sometimes during tuff times
stay passionate sometimes and love gently sometimes
care beyond caring sometimes
you matter to me sometimes

I wrote this down to remind myself to treat you well sometimes
give you time sometimes
and kiss you more than just sometimes

Strut

2009-06-08T10:44:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

I ain't street
I'm strut
My feet don’t touch the ground
when I'm working that magic poets have in their blood

I been authoring books without words since birth
The killing is high but the living is good

Why can’t you walk on water
or fly through air as poets with pen or brush

So you in the hood
players, dealers, ballers, hustlers, boosters, pimps, junkies, flunkies, suckers,
Strut if you need a job
cuz on the low
jobs need us just as much as the church need God

strut moves the universe
don't be last
you were made to be first
I'm a live
I'm a die like the rest of us

born alone die alone
that's how my friend felt along time ago

we here together
we can walk into forever
but you worry about thirst
and loose hunger for what you're worth

I'm gonna strut on paper
in ya faces and places I'm not suppose to walk

I'm writing life on the spot
We could get off topic but I'd rather not

Focus
Study my eyes but research your own mind
I ain't ghetto, I ain't gutter, I ain't gangster
You might be to some but you're really not

I strut with a pen for the block
so understand when you strut
You can’t be knocked

Strut is the essence it ain't just style
Strut can’t be touched
Strut don’t let life lay him out
Strut ain't everybody
But if you wanna express what you got
give birth to ya own way to strut

Side Effects

2009-06-08T10:39:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

the soul breaths inside the bodies coffin
You have everything and nothing
The heart beats and then it doesn’t
When the rhythm stops
Keep on listening

Side effects are feeling dizzy
Rainy days, losing dignity
Fake moans
days made out of stone
Hard for the sun to break through at all

Then it comes in and hits like a ton
It’s not just a beat but a pulse
You are the heart, the soul, and the voice
That tears down the walls

Now you can
Climb the sky without falling

Side effects are every girl calling
Vip balling, 5 star everything
Vintage to modern

Isn’t it something
Like how tear and tear are spelled the same
but have different meanings
Side effects from reading me
Make you smarter, cooler, wiser, richer

Old men loiter

2009-06-08T10:26:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

old men liter
and tell kids to pick it up
You might say that ain't right
But what if he dropped knowledge
then that’s good

What if the kid listening showed him something
by taking simple action
paid his respect
now the old man doesn’t have to insist

That’s called programming
Mutual respect is hey show me something

Stop loitering garbage
thinking you got all the knowledge

Pick me up
don’t tell me all the time what to do
I'm the one watching you
Where’s my respect

That's a kid you can trust to be an example
Don't whoop his butt for reversing the issue

Think of what he could be when he’s the same age as you
bend at the knees and hell stand up with you

give kids a little growing room
they only grow a little
Give them too much growing room
they grow out of control
Give kids control and they’ll grow responsibly

listen to them when you get the chance
That’s God whispering
so try to understand

We all need instruction
Unless you’ve done it all
or don’t wanna do nothing

See old men loiter
And kids pick it up

Valentine Babe

2009-06-08T09:51:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

your friendship shined through light
behind a glass where angels shimmered
you stood on chairs pointing at wax
I was trying to wax more than that
between you and me
in my head you're mostly naked
we may never make it to a love destination
cuz sometimes I be drifting
listen
the short the long the right the wrong of it
I gained a friend
a song a sweet melody
on my mind like headphones
in my hands likes cell phones

rain or shine,
stay the same,
let the seasons change-
warm to cooler-
like a breeze you come back to me-
i Can stare at you forever--
friend or fantasy,
why we gotta choose

share your bed with me-
I sleep in my clothes
make faces,
sniff pillow cases,
hold hands
think about nights we felt good

feeling our friendship deepen
I felt butterflies in your belly and mine
like the ones printed on your shower curtain
the lines of wuts wut separate us

seeing through plastic
touching you with soap suds
you burst my bubble
more than I do yours

I was on your bed looking at your fuzzy stuff and said to myself:
Are we the real animals stuffed
like old fake shit

more or less without friendship
memories become what's left of us

they say love is sacred
but ain't got the respect like friendship

wit no illusion left
I looked at you and imagined
a friend when you undressed
Is this what you mean
Is this what you need

guessing we could be just us
reverse the direction of a thing called affection
take a second to analyze perfection
and stay friends
so our relationship wont end
and no one gets hurt by nudity and words

Parachute

2009-06-08T09:42:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

She wore her parachute September
And jumped right out my life
I saw her smile moving further
Further from my eyes

Her hair was long dark and blowing
I was so surprised
We held hands for moment
Then she waved goodbye

Now she’s in the sky
Long gone far away
Here I am
in the worst shape
like I was that day

Every year September
Lies to me again
Wonder if she’s falling
for sum other man

pull your parachute
I cant catch you
pull your parachute
you fall through my arms

Heart of Gold

2009-06-08T09:38:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
myspace.com/citizensylslick
Follow me on Twitter
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

neoclassic
vintage
yeah I'm still suspended from your kisses
they do this

truth is

You must have a heart of gold
do u have a heart of gold
are Flowers in your soul
can I watch them grow

you're the rose in a gray photo
forever red
colorful

these words were written
in hope to match your elegance

poets can't pose
If I'm rich if I'm poor
may love be all I owe

Your eyes are tinted like mine
inside you're kind
your smile is the answer to all my questions

you're brighter than moonlight
I'll try to keep this mood right
I wont fight or make you cry

love of a good woman
sends me to the sky

did you know I've been waiting
Funny how a walk turns into a flight

You must have a heart of gold
do u have a heart of gold
are Flowers in your soul
can I watch them grow

Fences

2009-06-08T09:17:00.000-07:00

Sylvester C. Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

can I lay my thoughts down here
here on your pillow and talk dear a little
lay my thoughts down gentle
and let the feathers fall
I gotta know strong that I'm heartfelt soft

memories of you and I in the dark make my skin crawl
I cant put them down because at times they lift me
especially when I need what I need

these words don't come easy
because of you I'm afraid of teeth and eyelashes
and silly shit like that- fingernails
I'm afraid of eyebrows and the color peach

but sleeping without you is not a remedy
for having slept along your curvy side
fabric is not skin
but only fabric holds me

I call it dead heart disease
belief in erotic peace
bees in my brain- get it- bees

I was cured as a child from sleep walking
but suffered many falls before the rails
I apologize but you are my rail
with you I would never fall out of bed
or walk down stairs to pee in the fridge

can sleep walkers run?
Yes, I once followed a memory of running to school
and woke up before I crossed the street
I think I just wanted to swing on the playground

Would I have died if I got hit by a car in my dream?
The lady on the corner grabbed me and took me back home
I still thought I was dreaming while she held me
Just a memory but now I'm more aware

Will I die from being hit by a girl in my awareness?
Are we ever really awake anyway?
With you, I could oversleep
So I can run in my sleep to you

meet me by the swings
and I'll wake up with you forever
hold my hand
help me cross the street to our playground

do you know what neurotic really means
frozen hot romantic tease
pausing my pleasure and pain
It's not having a stop button
when the irresistible turns you on

every now and then
you float into my dreams
like the whistling wind
blowing kisses that never find my face

I chase those birds over fences
you fly into the distance
I'm way 2 nostalgic

young was how I felt when u called
getting old is straight to voice mail
goodbye is delete
but we were never really together
so we never really broke up
email is a touch
love is a computer
sex is a slide show
smiles are just for the picture
ass is a virus
don't click

remember the days
fuzzy tv stations,
the cold air whispering,
bedside rubbers
and yellow duck shower curtains
building trust when radio was ours
hard to push play now but you stay on repeat
and it's killing me to hear music without seeing you.
You were my music my song

true story
first time I took my clothes off
I think you were already naked
walking down the hallway to your bed
I actually folded my pants
and put my socks in my shoes
you put on blue sweats because it was cold
and you weren't gonna wait in just your undies
funny

we both thought love and sex were sensible
but now we know better
it doesn't have to make sense
still when I think back
that's when I feel like me again

funny how someone else can make you feel like yourself
That's the tear that never falls and the dry mouth thing that happens
and i wonder "if" but don't know "how"

I remember the first time you told me
that your mattress wasn't on the floor anymore
but your closet was still a mess

can I lay my thoughts down here
here on your pillow and talk dear a little
lay my thoughts down gentle
and let the feathers fall
I gotta know strong that I'm heartfelt soft

Around

2009-06-08T09:09:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

LOOKING AT YOU
WAS LIKE WATCHING A MOVIE

I DIDN'T WANT TO MOVE
I COULDN'T GET UP
I ABSORBED YOU

THE FLUTTER OF YOUR EYES
THE AIR AND BREATH YOU TAKE
IS THE AIR AND BREATH OF ME
WAITING WANTING KNOWING
AND NOT KNOWING

THE DARK FRAME OF YOUR HAIR
THE ROUNDNESS OF YOUR CHEEKS
THE LOUD SOUND OF SPACE BETWEEN US

THE QUIET SITE OF YOU IN FRONT OF ME
THE REPLAY IN MY MIND
AND THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ROOM AND PLACE
THOUGHT AND SHAPE

THE PAUSE
THE STOP
THE PLAY

HOPE YOU STAY AROUND

Another Face

2009-06-08T08:56:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

Another face to place over yours
but its way out of place
days cant erase nothing
Still hold'n pictures with a lovers touch
I caress even the dust of the greatest out of my ladies

The one I would have chosen if my eyes were closed
but holding on is about letting go

She Shined like stolen diamonds
I'm rhyming wit rose colored glasses
poured from the past back to splash passion

Everything is clear
but it's almost gone
Do you still want more
taste these good times twice

Sip slow
head back
teary eyes closed
here now gone tomorrow
drip drop
wipe away my soul
you remind me of myself a long time ago

That ain't love in ya eyes is it
my smile was a villain
breaking hearts again

Don’t trust my kisses
they ain't telling you nothing worth believing in
hate the player but who loves the victim when love is what kills em
nobodies breathing
just stealing movements
walking with sadness
I’m watching the magic leave everyday
children bleed the most
and I think its awful

were you disillusioned by peace in the distance by another face
tracking it down like my assassin to murder my dreams in the night

Don't you know you can't kill my dreams

Skulls In My Chest

2009-04-12T14:39:00.000-07:00

Sylvester Richards
http://cringedigital.myartsonline.com/

Time changes the heart and mind. Against my skull and chest, the past punches and the future pulls me. Truth awaits. Will she be standing or sitting? I want to lie down with her and wake up believing by still seeing her there.

Maybe I could be King. For now, I stand alone. Her time demensional whispers say that I don't have to. So, I continually seek her like those who have sought after me.

What truth did I offer them? A hard truth, a cold truth, a quiet truth, a covered truth. Possibly, just illusion and no truth at all. A blind truth. Sometimes pleasure and sometimes pain. The girls, the lies, the smiles the cries. Where does laughter hide?

I never ran from anyone but moved away from myself slowly. Guilty of returning too quickly. I have often stayed too long. Without a guide we drift into the night. A series of hellos and goodbye's wave and welcome us.

Has imagining her brought me here. Will my imagination bring me out of my own darkness and into her light. Flying, attractively into shimmering pieces of illusion that I can never touch without part of me fading in and out of the clouds around her. Flashes of sight allure me again towards eyes I've seen in dreams with tears behind framing my smile.

I have not rebelled enough. I arm my hopes with weapons. I gleem and glimmer through dark brown destruction to rebuild a better mess. Unafraid. For I have gained and lost admiration in a day. I can be admired again forever.

I will trust myself and someone else forgiving my destruction and wittnessing my creation. The world around me is not the world inside. My rage harnessed and neatly calculated. Wild actions are less substantial for my economic display of rich confidence. I move strategically, fluidly. Deeper into her atmosphere, revealing the empire of my souls divine archtecture. I am destined for greatness. She is in my blueprint.

I must destroy my mind one dream at a time for the sake of the space needed to build and shape my destiny. My heart pumps blood under the sun and stars. I unravel myself with unscripted small scale action and a dose of madness in every prayer.

I drink my coffee black and unsweet. There will be milk and the taste of honey after my journey. I have ancient memories presently on my lips to convert into songs. Break up can chart our course to completion. I am on the grind. I will transform the dirt around me into elegance. How many can even speak of such a thing? I am destined and can take correction.

The struggle these days and it's complexity can not out weigh my creativity. I am equally complex. My future is more creative than me. But, my wisdom is strung with the sophistication of a spiders web; reduced by the sight of flies. Or, is it that the flies make it more interesting?

My empire, my woman, my destiny. It's all about catching the fly. The web is work. Work is a spiders dance. I move in a similar fashion. I am not attacking or being attacked. I am executing that wich will not execute itself without a web. I am clear now. I am in plain sight but not yet visible. I am so sticky, you can get stuck just by listening.

I am expressing my interest in things with wings. Why should I bedestined to crawl?
If I can't fly...I can catch what does.

I am preserving my anger and wrapping my pleasure and eating the lies. I am the art of war and the ugly side of beauty. I thought I had been sleeping alone and missing out on love. Now every one is awake and in my bed

The trick is the world couldn't touch my sky any more inside an airplane than they could walking on the ground. Yet, they've reached for me with the same desires that I have for my own empire. We all want to live inside. So I build it. One letter at a time. Can't you see it in my eyes?

Previously while marching in my thoughts. The left side of me felt like the leader of the band. Confusion in the loudness of distortion. Singing music; the self taught musician and painter of symetrical portraits; Heard a vision; yours and mine untitled and unsigned.

Smudged and bent. I got dirt on my hands, shit on my mind because I was letting the future of sight and sound down. I would put down the brush, the pen and the cup. I would rant and ramble symbolic speech only real to me. I would break up with virgins and wake up with whores for the love of music and imagery.

Raping paper and canvas violently for pictures and melodies. Each piece was a brick. Can I actually rebuild a heart with a brick? Is man not man made? Bricks are just stones for throwing in a pond. A ripple. A reflection. A plan for perfection. I need materials that don't come from here. I need instructions that don't come from me. I need builders that can't be seen.

So in this song of screams for the willing. A song for drunken Kings to take the pressures of being human off everyone waiting. I shall return. I shall restore. Don't we all want to feel heroic. Don't just drink with me but fight with me. I admit, even heros need a hero. Sometimes it's in the wine and sometimes it's in the blood.

Unfortunately, I became the bad guy before I could be of any future good. I had to be what the world didn't want for them to now want me. Things that once shined had to crack around me. I may sound selfish as the thieves of time; taking you along with me until forever bleeds. But I will let you go so quickly because suffering is part of me. Real as broken glass and I will cut you deep and quickly. I am real as fire and I would love to see you burn in you cross me.

My purpose is mine. Don't pretend to support something you can't believe. I am for those who will do anything for their dreams. I am the King of Hearts. Everything and nothing matters to me. Nothing. I am free. Value my pain. I dare you to try and take it from me. I will let it go when I am old and will trade it only for the youth after me to be happy.

As I sit on broken chairs. Come closer. Do you see an arm rest? Come closer. A king reflects. I once was told that I would die of loneliness. I never owned this statement but it was remarkably etched into my psyche. It's a mean dagger to pull out but was skillfully thrown. An angry lover lashed her heavy blade at my chest. A pink tongued turned red with fire and scorched my sleeve.

I've enjoyed rich relationships beyond my worth and weight. I am poor now and the strength it takes to stand leaves me lying down. Waiting in my solitude. Fear replacing fun in my fortress. The sky is not kind when arrows fly.

Beauty sometimes dies. My hands have saved beautiful lives but my feet have walked past many smiling mouths. Such is demise. Their faces collected in a room and left like portraits framed with hatred for me face down on a table inside my heart.

I am not a conquerer. I have no good works and no good deeds. I have no jester. No artist could capture what I have felt. I have no symphony to thematically embrace such a scene that shrinks and swells like the eternal sea of women swimming in vane. No throne when I am weak, no challace to drink. I am no threat to a coward. Some king.

I can not wear this crown. I will refer to the one I seek as my Empire. Without her I only mimic myself and revisit her in dreams. Until, my Empires rises, I am just a sketch of what I imagine to be. Sometimes, I can see everything and other times I just see the wall. I can draw her from scratch and make her breathe. There's more to life than breath. More to learn, give, love and cherish. My Empire awaits. She is naked.

Admittedly, my head should be left empty. I should be driven into the night to wander with fools, scoundrels and liars. With armor off and my sorrow exposed. Thieves should rob me of jewels that I didn't earn and should eat off my plate. Ideas have spoiled and my mouth is sour with regretful speech. I have left dreams in the crowd around me and women waiting; abandoned in a strange land.

Is there one flower not scorched by the sun? One drop of water that the ground hasnt swallowed? I need them to breathe. I need them to see. I need them to know. I need them because the measure of a man is not his height or reach. But, the steps he is willing to take to be a man. The distance he will go for love. Even if he has to crawl.

The charm of my glance is now a cold bullet. My pocket carries memories and bone fragments frozen with heartbreak the size of mammoths. I am the giant hurt hunting the good life for needs and the chance to feed and feel warmth. Her love is a fossil burried and brushed with my last touch. I will revive and touch her again for the first time.

For now, I keep only this fractured fraction of a skull for my crown. A tusks shapped to remind me of my true loves and the curves I've rushed to drive them off the road. Her nearness now would be a treasure still. I know now to advert to her eyes and adorn her body with kisses. Not commands. These things get whispered in my ears and I listen.

The others lived many nights. I wear the crown placed on my head. In exchange, to replace my selfish desires with the courage to change. People should not have names that we forget and faces that wont be missed. Even without names and faces, we are still people with arms that at one point could hold anything.

We should all hold truth atleast once. Dead or alive. So, I will wear this crown as a reminder. Every ruler must serve and have thoughts worth thinking and to not only embrace new ideas. But, find the past that leads us to a better future. Then the skulls in our chest will be free. The heart and mind will be renewed.