My good friend and fellow poet, Nate Abaurrea, came by to share with me his newest and latest book “Backroads & Borderlines.”
After some pints we decided to hit the mic and spit some pieces to remind us of those dreaded open-mic nights.
Here is our drunken exchange.
It’s been some time since my last keystroke, I hope I don’t choke on the word-vomit that my thoughts provoke. So yoke the throat of my utensil and you’ll see how my heart spills out the tip of my pencil. It’s suspenseful and will drive you hysterical when my ideas spit onto your theory’s material, leaving a stain so deranged that you’ll rearrange how you feel about my take on the game.
Don’t be a fool and pick up these jewels that I’m putting down,
’cause fate deals the deck and you decide whether to fold or play for the ducats.
So pull up and come through and see how me and mine do.
It’s a new year n a new me and fear is no longer my enemy
I’m stronger and bolder, like Tyson vs Frazier, dropping the hate 1st Round
Then snatching your paper!
Best watch out n check how I’ll collect clout
‘Cause I’m coming out pointing both barrels,
Putting hate in it’s place, then kicking it down the stairwell
It’s the year to hold on to those dear,
For hope is in my scope, me and mine know
I’m the fella who shares his d(h)ope.
Best wishes you trifling b*tches!
My life is like a quarry, where what’s valuable is dug deep, underneath this thick crust-skin
Those who dare mine the gold in my mind, declare it to be extraordinary
Though most seek the jewels & glory of saying they took what’s good from me
Like a fool I stoop low for letting another abuse me.
For I am the generator of this diamond-like energy
I must have responsibility, to share my love with only those that are worthy.
Now, go out there n tell my story for it’s the only way I’ll keep living
Even when I’ve returned to the essence.
Me: “No dirty stuff tonight”
Me: *reads clean poetry*
Host: “you shoulda done two…”
I guess the people prefer the dirty stuff.
You choke the shaft of the brush,
wet the tip with what looks like spit
and begin to stroke.
I blush and hush my screams,
from seeing the streaking paint cream,
leaking onto your fists.
Yet you maintain a firm grip and
giggle at how I’m stoked
from your every brushstroke.
You’re talented, creative and reckless
when you allow the paint to spray onto your canvas.
You finger paint with the clumped up droplets and
smile at the masterpiece you accomplished.
While ignoring the paint sprinkled around your eye sockets.
I will shine bright.
For there is no fine for the illuminating light my love will shed with might.
So it’s time to take on life, headfirst.
Stepping through valleys of hurt to rise and climb mountain-high,
prevailing over the wailing cowards that wish to drag you downwards.
Each step i take will cover great lengths
and eventually reach a pristine mental state,
where “winning” is all i’m able to take.
It’s up to me to conquer the dark gleam
that’s wishing to take over this king’s dreams.
At the end of the day,
its just “
me vs me”
I wake n rise for another planetary pirouette,
until the moon brings it’s big shade and lays us out to rest.
So I try to thrive through another day of life,
though sour souls aim to threaten my aura’s glow.
I WILL TAKE PRIDE IN MY EVERY STRIDE.
“If I die, my seed will be ill like me”
Slick oratory assassin, masked in jewels,
busting through life’s treacherous fallopian tubes.
Using a sword-like tongue to slice through the navel,
a caesarean fellow, flopping bodies with flows dense and fatal.
You picking up what i’m putting down?
I haven’t felt you in a while,
I wonder if my words were too vile.
I regret nothing,
for it’s what my heart’s barking
Now muzzled, by the terrible struggle
of learning to respond
and not react
There’s a limit to how “close” friends from work should be.
They’re people who keep one sane during the dread of long working days.
Folks who share memes, joke in-between meetings
and complain about the superior bureaucracy.
I keep things professional, maintain my distance and act amicable.
I decline post work drinks and when the week ends, I’m extinct.
The only thing intimate I’ve shared
is my dislike for laid edges on blonde women’s hair.
Work comes first when your pocketbook thirsts.
So, I drop those in the way of getting my guap,
because I play for keeps and I’ll take what belongs to me.
Tony Montana said it best, “In this country, you gotta make the money first.
Then when you get the money, you get the power.
Then when you get the power, then you get the women.”