Not too long ago, I finished the lyrics for a poetry album (my first ever) called “Topography of the Creative Mind” I’m working with my great friend Coastal6 on the instrumental tracks for it and we’re coming together to make something that I think all of you will really enjoy. Poetry has been a staple in my life for some time, when I was a little kid my mom would read Poe to me often and it’s stuck around since then. I stopped writing poetry in ninth grade because there was a kid who liked to pick on me and it really messed with my head one day when he told me that “poetry was for pussies” and that I should take up a different hobby, something more manly.
After we graduated I started to wonder if he meant “something manly” as in drug addiction or alcoholism or prison, but I’ve grown since then, and I really hope he’s doing okay. I hope he’s got his life figured out now. It’s a hard thing to do. I have plans until I’m eighty-three and still don’t have a single clue what I’m actually doing.
Anyway, this poem is really short, it’s called “Bad Apple” and it started out as a way to vent my frustrations about a failing relationship I had, but the more I wrote it the more vulnerable I began to feel and it came out as this sort of raw piece that is different than some of the other stuff I’ve done. It ended up being about that kid, I think. Not necessarily him, but anyone who makes you feel beaten down and trodden on, and it’s about getting away from that and making yourself more productive. I intentionally made it seem like it cut off awkwardly, because it’s about growing up and learning how to fix all the bad stuff that’s going on. I certainly don’t have the answers yet because I’m in the middle of my journey. Maybe when I really have my life figured out I’ll call that guy up and tell him thanks for inspiring me. Thanks for letting me realize that my old poetry was too immature and dramatic. Thanks for letting me take some time to figure out how much I loved music so that when I grew up I could put the two together. This was one of the poems that was on the setlist for Topography, but I ended up cutting it because it didn’t really fit with the structure that I had going, besides, I really didn’t’ want to put pressure on someone who isn’t vulgar, to let me be a little vulgar in the piece. It’s not my place.
I’m pretty happy with the final decision, and I think that this piece may never make it to sound. I think it should be a written piece, it just feels better that way. You know?
Anyways, here it is. Thank you, as always, for reading. Don’t forget to spread the word. I write poetry too. 😉
Black, bruised apples.
That’s what we were.
No bitter crispy feeling of a brand new love.
Not tang of lust, forbidden or ashamed.
We were both destroyed. We were both the same.
Two rotten balls of slop, left alone with the sun.
It’s the three of us now + I’ve forgotten how to run.
But at the bottom of this knoll there’s awful chain link fence.
If I can get the momentum, if I could have the chance…
I could crash into that grid and blow myself end to end.
My seeds would scatter and that would be the message I would send.
“Don’t fuck with me!” I’d scream as I was fleeing on my rotted feet.
As if there was nothing to begin, I’d spread my weakened flesh, bleeding
Then it would just be you up there.
All by yourself, a rotten piece of fruit just like you left me.
But I got away.
I won in the end.
Because my seeds will scatter.
They will grow into a tree…
But I guess it doesn’t matter…
This will all begin again,
All because of me…