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Rubbing Two Nickelbacks Together to Make a Dime

Rubbing Two Nickelbacks Together to Make a Dime

Never made it as a wise man, I couldn’t make it as a poor man stealing. Tired of living as a blind man; I’m sick of sight without a sense of feeling and this is how you remind me of what I really am…are we having fun yet? – Nickelback (You Remind Me)   Today … Continue reading

SoKey's Driveby Poems

  • I may dig a little deeper. Dissect & analyze situations, observe & research every angle. I may be an empathetic empath, writer, a poet who tends to understand too much and takes too little. I may smile. Laugh a great deal, spreading my arms to embrace this space we share. You may be drawn by my aura, sketching time portraits, boxing me into a frame. You may picture me, trapping me behind tempered glass, tagging me poetic nymph, naked with fluttering wings afloat symphonic winds. An illusion of allusion. You do not know my hammer. Cast iron heavy, swing strike lethal, glass shattering menagerie release of words & deeds and indeed will be shocked when the locks come unhinged. I binge sometimes. Having dined, gorged on lies & misconceptions until I vomit your perceptions back at your feet so you can walk freely in the reality of me.-Iya Isoke (pobody's nerfect)
  • And so what am I to do now? Where am I to place a love interrupted? A heart disrupted? Where my love? am I to set aside what’s inherently inside? Life for you has it’s answer – definitively divine. As for mine? I am an ellipsis time elapsed and collapsed in suspended animated panels of a graphic novel idea of love trapped within the frigidity of an ice cubed existence – frozen in time. Where my love does nurture go to die? Iya Isoke © 5/28/11
  • my spirit once grounded now flies and flickers about scattered in blind circles, I am an unwritten play without benefit of storyboard, script or plot, each day the cage door opens and I am pushed by winded wings; homeless, I am creativities nomad.
  • I have tried looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, but the thorns of reality continue to pierce my eyes; and so I blink back the bloody tears and write what I see. - Iya Isoke

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