Poems about poems – Chris Brown & P.Diddy are my selected muses for today.

My favourite thing about writing these types of poems is not knowing what the poem is about until it’s finished. Because the creative process is not the typical one, of responding to a deep need to express something. With these, I here a song from my playlist, and feel something stir inside me. If the feeling in the pit of my stomach is strong enough, I select it to be squared2. Then watch as I start to express things i didn’t even know where residing within.

Yesterday2

Yesterday I fell in love, today feels like my funeral.

The past can feel like the end, when isolated pain becomes communal.

 

I just got hit by a bus, shouldn’t have been so beautiful.

Your impact sprayed into rainbows, then soaked the desert full.

 

Don’t know why I gave my heart, gave my trust, gave everything.

 

You think if I had the chance to do it over again, I’d do something different? Make better decisions?

The beast I was before follows behind, close like a night terror only just escaped – the bed of indecision.

 

Give my all, you take it from me.

Take my all; you gave it to me,

Don’t even replace it for me.

 

But I keep making the same mistakes before – I see the danger but I go forward.

Repeated footsteps into the abyss, comfortable I’ve become to the darkness, my instincts a miss.

 

I feel like a killer hit me, the weapon was concealed initially.

Lover, assassin? The bullet thread to both, but at least love initially.

 

You deserve to feel it with me more.

 

I feel like I beg with you, plead with you,

My tears, a shallow drop in the Sahara.

I can’t comprehend how you can’t love when it’s so easy too.

Soft is the spirit that see’s the spaces between trying harder.

 

I thought you could do it, I believed in the naïve in you.

Little dress and footsteps towards me, disarming smiles that came from youth.

 

I just need to breathe, baby, now I got the freedom to.

First air of the saved, or last gasp of the failed? Love together and choose.

 

Yesterday I fell in love.

 

By Alpha Cauwenbrgh < Chris Brown/P. Diddy

 


© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2018. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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A Poem about catching ‘feelings’ in a club

This week, I’ve chosen to use one of my favourite Shakka songs from his Lost Boys EP – Poems about poems is where I’m at right now, and i’ve multiplied this song for your reading pleasure.

You don’t know what you do to me 2

 

Even in the dark, I can see you. – Lost in the spaces between stars, to be near you.

 

I see you staring at the part of the room that I’m standing in.

Your face, turned towards me – a narrow corner where a lost boy is sheltering.

 

Even in the dark, I can see you.

 

As if I’m doing magic tricks whilst you wonder how they’re happening.

Can you feel our future? Or does the eye that you use foresee a different understanding?

 

Even in the dark, I can see you.

 

Her eyes got me travelling, Cupids got a javelin.

I came when you called – his plans for us transcending.

 

Who’s that?

 

You don’t know what you do to me.

Understanding is astray, a lost child to me.

 

Who’s that?

 

I’m out of control…out of control around you.

Violence would be peace in comparison around you.

 

Pretty bad at one-liners but I’m damn good at shuffling.

You erase my mother tongue; I move my feet towards you – shuffling.

 

You don’t know what you do…

 

Trust, it’s better if we dance, if I talk I’ll be rambling.

Fear – together if I dance? I can’t decipher her, the words – they’re scrambling.

 

You don’t know what you do…

 

To me, I’m out of control around you…

 

Lost in the spaces between stars, to be near you.

 

Alpha Cauwenbergh < Shakka

 


© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Poem About A Drake Song

For my second poem, i’ve decided to go in a drastically different direction, and use hip hop/Drake ‘n’ B as the square root. I will continue trying different formats, styles and rhyming schemes as I slowly get to grips with this new fascinating way to write poetry,

 

Come Thru2

 

We had the type of nights where morning comes too soon… and nothing was the same.

The proof of us was left in those dark embraces, where no light could separate, like we were the same.

 

Come through

 

Watch me, going out of the way when I should’ve went home, only time of the day I get to spend on my own.

Straying from the path well laid, forsaking the familiar, my senses betray the solitude not gained of its own.

 

Come through

 

We ain’t spoke in so long, probably put me in the past. I can still get you wet and I can still make you laugh.

Distant memories, do my lips move on mute? A background film from your past? Still I move you to lust, still I move you to laugh.

 

Come through

Girl you know we got thangs to do,

Come through

Love, no rest while work’s still to be done

Come through

Get your ass in the car and come through.

 

Why has it been so long?

Time, our extrapolated song.

Why has it been…?

When last did I dream…?

 

Come through

 

Who you been crying too?

The tears that I gave to you.

Who you been flying to?

Is that what I made you do?

 

Come through

 

Whose bed are you sleeping in?

Could another’s heart be sneaking in?

Someone’s been hiding you,

From the love that I lent to you.

 

Where have you been? You deserve rounds tonight, come through.

 

Alpha Cauwenbergh<Drake

 

For those interested in hearing the original song Drake – Come Thru


 © Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Poem About A Poem

I was planning on writing the third installment of my Deep With You sci-fi erotica this week. However, i felt completely unmotivated to do so, making the whole endeavour feel like work, and not an expression of the soul. So, with the help of my brother’s inspiring idea to write a poem about a song i like, the addictive internal buzz of creativity returned!

I present my first of many Poems about a poem, or Poems 2. I’ve never seen or read a poem like this (doesn’t mean it doesn’t already exist) so the format, rhyming scheme, content, and tone within a tone are a work in progress, and may differ dramatically in future poems 2. This piece is built from/within the song Dust by Frank Ocean off his mix tape Nostalgia, Ultra.

 

Dust 2

 

Who’s that talking in my lab baby…? Is that you?

A voice, the familiar but estranged – can it be you?

 

No, I won’t put you out, what would this place be without my muse? Nothing special.

 

Every book in here, I wrote.

 

An empty shell – hollowed out emotions can’t stain – the page is blank – with nothing special.

Every book in here, I wrote.

 

Some I’m not too proud of, some I wish I could burn – too many pages I wrote, wish I could revise them.

Life breathed through flames, and into the air my shame – rain pours from sky and face the same, wish I could confine them.

 

But there’s no erasing, and the best advice I got was keep writing, keep living, and keep loving.

Destiny – a woman, her hands – fate – will cradle your arm. With pen still wet, her support is felt behind – violinist and bow keep loving.

 

When the ink dries, and the pages turn to dust, so will we – turn to dust. So, will we turn to dust?

 

Dust

 

Who’s that laughing in my Lab baby? Is that you?

The smile of a thousand un-lived days, is that you?

 

No, I won’t put you out, what would this place be without your smile? Nothing special.

 

I fell in love with you girl…you let yourself inside, with no respect for privacy.

When alone the words do come, but sometimes, the barren waste of pain masquerades as privacy.

 

You said there’s too much on my mind, then you ripped out a page, and set that thing a blaze – I quit writing. I kept living. I kept loving.

The Haze appearing in this place, an atmosphere of dismay, but space cleared that away, I kept living and kept loving.

 

When the ink dries, and the pages turn to dust, so will we – turn to dust. So, will we turn to dust?

 

Dust

 

Alpha Cauwenbergh<Frank Ocean

 


© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Last Poem for a while…

This poem was inspired by a singular feeling the song Gangsta Way – Chris Brown ft French Montana brought about in me. It’s something I do from time to time, and it’s fascinating because I usually don’t know what the poem is about until it’s almost fully written.

This poem is about that moment of sometimes illogical guilt and sadness you feel, when meeting eyes with someone from your estate block that you used to share childhood happiness with. However, now for various unfortunate & not so unfortunate reasons you are living two very different lives and are unable to relate to one another.

Untitled

hoodie

 

I’m in my hood all day, it’s my gangster way.

 

The forward steps I take, shrouded – in a hood that takes away my pain.

If I obscure my face to you, does it shelter me from the ache that remains?

What do I regret as I walk? The cold that strokes me, reminds me of the same.

The guilt of fame? The miniscule mountains climbed, while in its crevasses you stayed.

 

I’m in my hood all day, it’s my gangster way.

 

It’s true because my heart resides in the same place as yours.

A language received differently to the sounds made.

You don’t understand me, So I put a smile in the same place as yours.

It helps briefly, do we connect meaningfully? We smile, but it’s a different shape to yours.

 

My broad shoulders attired in Jackets proofed from rain.

While you, standing just as you were born – cry endlessly.

My life, safe in the hands that claimed me – yours fought always.

Did you tire? You don’t appear as you did those days.

Retire from your path – the gangster way.

 

By Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh


© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

How it feels to dance with the woman I love.

At some random point on a train journey home, I felt inspired to think back to those particularly passionate moments, and try to describe the experience from beginning to end.

 

The Rhythm And You

To dance with you;

Is to resent distance and all its friends, to want the first step towards you to be the universe’s end.

Is the contact of eyes between a want and need, the smile resting on you is the touch between forever and proceed.

Is the out stretched ache of a mother’s young, fingertips close to feeling the one you love.

Is the warmth that envelops upon embrace, even melody is left astray-floating just beyond the periphery of our space.

We invite it back in – traversing the sway of your hips, to finesse me from naval to lip.

 

To dance with you;

Is to glide together into other dimensions, lead by guitar and string. To trace the meandering curve of sexual purpose – the waist upon which my hands do cling.

Is to take in the wetness – of skin on your chest or corners of hair.

Is the effort held in our grind, becoming condensation mapping paths on passion’s window.

Is the bridge of fatigue that reigns briefly, the last verse is heir.

Is the silence and stare – a slow mind arriving with just the love of you in tow.

By Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh


© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Next poem in my music inspired poetry project, this time it was a Keane song

Keane- Clear Skies

‘I’ve never seen such beauty 

I’ve never seen such clear skies
I’ve never seen such high hopes
I’ve never seen such tired eyes

And I wish that I could be
Everything you are’

Clear Skies

Clear skies, lighter than the air that steams my windows…

While my weight crushes me to the floor and I can barely lift my head up to see the people I ignore. I wish that I could be everything you are.

Clear skies, beautiful from within and a vision of something greater from without, in the day, evening or night your passion for life is constant like the drumming of a seraphim’s heart.

I am now dark inside where hope once was, illogical feelings fill me up as I stare into the nothings that become…of the tv, of the music, of the hobbies that would always playfully occupy my thumbs. I wish I could be everything your are.

Clear skies, you stay above all those below, never bowing to the mountains howl, so strong is your touch it can enclose the world, protecting from the burn of the sun. Even the light of stars must pray for your permission before allowed to shine on the remaining polish of a surface your will has brought to rust.

I have been bent out of shape by the trauma in the muscles that move my bones, the memory of a touch on my chest before its caress on my toes is distant, and that plight has weakened me so much a glazed look down at my phone is like a bow to the demon’s in my head. I wish I could be everything you are

Clear skies, you are able to cry when you feel saturated and let your rage shake the fabric of the night when temperatures overwhelm.

I am stifled by forces I cannot explain, no tears can fall to drain the pain, no screams can be made to release the hate and I wish I could be everything you are…Clear in mind with hope spanning the breadth of human sight, this and everything you are.

By Alphan Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh

via Poetry | Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc..