I Tried (poem) + Wanted To (music)

Let’s take a moment of silence…

I…remember seeing your potential.

It ensnared the very essence of my being from the exact

moment I saw you on stage,

and as you become more and more of a presence you

elevated yourself to being something like a sage and grabbed

my heart, promising to preserve it, while I was completely unaware

of the growing collection that you possessed.


I wanted to-no I NEEDED to make you Queen,

bending over backwards for you like a servant

and with each and every clip I emptied in your name,

we melted and molded them into another piece for your crown.

It’s just a shame where was never enough metal.


I heard the stories, the different rumblings from other guys

kickin’ it with you stating  how your eyes glow green

with the logo of their schemes, but I always denied it,

told them we’re a match made in Heaven…

until I found out that that’s a lie.

You were busy twisting our relationship into

something it shouldn’t be, obsessed with others

who continue trying to break my dreams.


I tried and tried to stay in love

but no matter what I do it just ain’t enough.


So, I’m breaking up with ya,

I’m moving on and I know you probably don’t believe me,

is it because I always tried to treat you special?

That was was despite you staying in their church as they splash on your

face saying “God bless you”.


But see, I wrote this down and practiced in a mirror.

There’s no stopping this, I’m telling you the truth because I know

it’d free me.

I gave my all to you yet all you do is stay acting greedy,

it’s a shame, you let the whole world cum inside because

you were acting so easy

and now look at you…pregnant…with poets trying to form

a monopoly.


Now I can’t even lie, the love I had was true.

I did everything as you told me to,

my love’s been dying so now it’s time I move

in a direction that ain’t got nothing to do with you.


P.S. I and my friend Jill have been working on a song! Here it is

Enter the Void (working title)

I can’t understand it… This sense of floating… in nothingness. I mean, absolute nothing. There’s no sound – unless I just can’t hear anymore. I can’t see or smell anything, come to think of it – if I am actually thinking – I’m not even sure I can feel in this….emptiness. I’m just… “here”, whatever that means.

I try to move my limbs – legs first – but seem to be, I guess “stuck” is the best word to use. I try to use my neck, my eyes. That’s when I realize that my eyes have been closed this whole time, and yet, I still can’t open them! So I focus on this sensation on my eyes and slowly, I begin to gain small bits of feeling in the rest of my body.

That’s when I sense some…thing near me. I continue to struggle against this numb feeling as the being…floats around me.

Is it inspecting me? I can’t hear it, or maybe it’s that silent?

Before I could process this situation, my entire body seizes up and I realize I can’t breathe. A voice booms from that silent figure saying “no” and my body seizes again, making me suddenly sit up and finally open my eyes, letting nothing but bright light penetrate the opaque surroundings I was inhabiting earlier.

I cover my eyes immediately, falling to my side as I try to squeeze the shock of this sudden shift out of my senses. At this moment – as if a switch was flicked on – my other senses begin to operate.

“But…but I checked his pulse!” said a voice. “The som’bitch was dead, look at the blood, see the holes in his shirt?”

Wormeye? I ask but I can’t say whether that was outside of my head or not. I cough and spit some thick red fluid and force my mouth open to ask again.

“Where am I?” I can feel that this one was out loud.

I rub my eyes and realize that more than just voices are bouncing inside my head. There’s a loud screeching alarm or something echoing in the background getting louder as it rattles my brain.

“AHH!” I grab my head, closing my eyes as tight as possible trying my best to battle the relentless percussive rhythm.

“Whoa there buddy, calm down,” a second voice says to me as the screech gets louder and louder.

“Don’t touch him! He might be…,” the first voice exclaims.

“Might be, what? A ghost? A goddamn zombie? Come on,” the second responds, placing his hands on me to calm me down.”

“Th-the noise! It hurts! Make it stop!”

I scream; shaking my head, rocking in place with my hands on my head, elbows clinching my knees and my head shoved in between them.

“Jesus, Greg, can you get them to turn that shit off? Where are they anyway?” The second voice questions.

The sirens finally release their grasp on my eye as I hear a vehicle approach me. I slowly open one eye, attempting to adjust to the brightness.

“Where am I?” I ask again, looking into the eyes of a man wearing a suit.

“You’re in _____. On ______ Street,” he answers. “Do you have a name?”

What? Duh, I think, what kind of dumbass question…wait.

“It’s, um,” I hesitate. “I think it’s…Marcus. Marcus Gutierrez,” I answer half-sure this is my name.

“Do you know how you got here…in this condition?” Greg asks.

“Condition?” I look around to see EMTs exiting the ambulance vehicle I didn’t see pull up.

Gazing down, I discover the atrocious mess on my torso.

“What the-!” I yell at the odd sight.

My lucky blue t-shirt was destroyed, there’s what appears to be bloodstains with their point of origins being the several holes that’ve demolished “ol’ Faithful”. I follow some of the stains towards my jeans and curiously, I turn to see a giant puddle of blood. MY blood, where I was lying.

“Marcus, I am detective Stevens and he’s Officer Hastings. We believe you were murdered.”

Shopping Network

Are you broke?

You bored with your life but have no talents?

Do you think you have what it takes to become an overnight success?

Then this workshop is for you!

Come down to the Lines for Dimes studio where we will provide you with the tools you need!

Wanna tell jokes? Done!

Wanna intertwine rhymes

with feeble metaphors into lines

to describe how you struggled through hard times?

We specialize in that!

Call now, and we’ll even give you a promo such as:

“I went to the metro today

but I didn’t have enough to pay

for a ticket and that was bad

which is like my life, very sad.

Then it turned grey and rained

which reflects my life, full of pain.”

All you have to do is pick up the phone

and dial the number at the bottom of the screen!


Oh! We have a caller, go ahead.

“Yea, I took your workshop, nahmsayin?

And it turnt me out, nahmsayin?

I just had to write two poems, nahmsayin,

and I got chosen to the national finals, nahmsayin?

I was in the smallest town and now I’m

a big shot, thanks Lines for Dimes, nahmsayin?”

There you have it! A non-scripted testimony from alumnus,

Cantrel 3-2. We even taught him to piss

off his host and gain sympathy from his dedicated fans.

You know what? I’m in a generous mood.

Call this number in the next 5 minutes, and

we’ll teach you how to negotiate travel and

performance fees before you ever step foot on stage.

So remember, call 693 359 223

for Lines for Dimes now, because poetry’s never been so cheap.


Disclaimer: This is best watched. Just imagine “Point” is portrayed with fingers as a gun.


Point…and shoot. Point…and shoot.

He learned from an early age

an important lesson about survival

as he wondered up and down the streets

of East Dallas, or was it Mesquite?

And as he gradually climbed

he was ready to earn every single nickel and dime

he could…


Point…and shoot. Point…and shoot.

With each clip he manages to slip

further and further down the rabbit hole.

And as he stole another soul,

his presence grew in the nightmares

of a youngster who was living not far from there.


Point…and shoot. Point…and shoot.

With each day and each week

crawling by, the youngster’s parents lose more sleep

as the snap, crackle, and pop announces his name

throughout the neighborhood.

With these disturbing occurrences, it was understood –

by the parents – that they needed to address

the situation…

after the confrontation

with the neighbors his an-ger

rose steadily until…


Point…and shoot. Point…and shoot.

He waited around the corner

for the youngster

and introduces his fist to  stomach,

cocks back his gun, covers the mouth and…



He looks into my eyes as I try

to make sense, gasping and panting for air

while he stands there warring with the unfair


Even though he walked away

all…those…years ago…

my mind tends to stray back to that day

wishing I knew how to unload a few clips

of my own. I’ve dreamed of plugging him.

I thought about the others he bestowed pink slips

to as I purchase my whistle,

imbuing each and every missile

with each and every emotion I could muster

as I use this clot buster

and burst through the ignorance

to impart my brilliance

through him, you, her,

hell, it’ll be a massacre!

See my mission is to dispel preconceived

notions and cultivate the masses

with my actions,

so I challenge you to watch me as I…

Point…and shoot.

24 hours of Poetry

This past weekend provided another new experience for me in several different areas:

1) First time I was in a French-speaking nation (Belgium).

2) First time since college I had the chance to perform outdoor in front of complete strangers.

market river

3) First time to be surrounded by so many poets from several nations (usually it’s just the locals) and it provided me a chance to get a feel for the different kinds of styles these poets possess (German, Belgian, French, Italian, Turkish, Spanish, and I think some kind of Scandinavian) for a full 24 hours.

With this “poetry retreat” I also came to realize the importance of my poem, the 28th Amendment (if it’s not posted here, then check this video – it’s gotten better, promise!). The more I perform it, the more I feel it resonates within every person that hears and feels it.

For those who aren’t familiar with it, the poem states the importance of unity within the poetry community and pledging our allegiance to continue forward with our craft.

This brings me to my final point, I can’t just rest on what I have written and what I’ve accomplished. I truly feel like I need to continue pushing myself in order to help inspire others.

I will finish my website soon, and am already looking for venues to host writing “classes” and public speaking workshops. Details will come soon!

Bad Date

“Say, you’re not like…black-black…you know?”

She makes this awkward statement,

Unaware of how much of my patience

she’s already testing.

Now, every time someone hits me with this,

they always seem to miss

the social cues such as 1) me shifting ever so uncomfortably in my seat,

2) me shuffling my feet,

3), 4), 5),

I clinch my fists, squint my eyes,

and try with all my might to count to five

before I end up slapping her upside

her head.


“What do you mean?” I ask.

Knowing damn well that they’re expecting me to wear the very mask

they’ve grown up seeing in the off-chance that their televisions

show a hint of color in between their 24-hour transmissions

of shows

full of people who resemble 50 shades of snow.

“Well, I mean…you’re not like…a nigger, because you don’t rap.”

There it is, the slap

in the face I was waiting for.

This, is when I have to choose which door

to enter. Do I explain the technicality

that most people believe it’s two different words and, in reality,

none of them are restricted to rappin’?


Should I go on a tirade

to explain it was the actions

of European trade transactions

carried overseas

and people, with rappers, aim to change the negativity

into an endearing, uplifting term crammed into our frequencies?

The problem is, I would likely scare her away.

That’s despite my calm demeanor and trying my best not to say

she’s ignorant more than…hmm five times,

she, like everyone so far, would turn dumb, deaf, and blind,

and will just tell her friends about that angry nigger

she was on a date with.


“But they always laugh on TV, go figure

I find the one that’s so stiff

(and not in the good way, if you catch my drift).”

You see, these are constant scenarios

I’ve had to deal with, battling multiple types of stereos

stating that there are rules I must abide by

but oddly I am never on the right side

of that thin line.

I thought about walking out.

I wanted to leave, providing absolutely no doubt

that what she said was incredibly stupid

and I’ll feel like I stood strong

after humoring her for so long

but…do you wanna what the honest truth is?

My luck with women hasn’t been so great

and, well, she is pretty so…maybe this isn’t THAT bad of a date?