Suede and Sunshade

  • The B-Side of the BAD Album

    I only care about the color of your soul. Don’t enable me to dim your beauty.

    Monochromatic

    I am black and white

    Not because my skin is black

    And that I try to be white

    No, I am black and white

    Because that is simply the life I live

    One day, God has bestowed me heaven and all it’s riches

    The very next, satan has drug me to hell and I’m stripped to the bone by all its best bitches

    All life is right when it’s bright

    All life is hard when it’s dark

    And no, this is not about race

    I frankly don’t care about appearances

    Only about the color of your soul

    While others are chromatic

    Mine are just quite problematic

    I wrote this poem hastily today on November 1st, 2024. I saw a rainbow this morning, I saw them as charms. Now, they have a different meaning.

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  • This Would Be In Character…If Edgar Allen Poe Wrote It.

    The not-so nursery rhyme everyone was expecting of me. Maybe I should go to Baltimore and put this on his tombstone. Funnily enough, his moment of death was two days ago (at the time of me writing this).

    The Tale Of Deborah Downs

    Deborah Downs is a girl who failed to make her mama all too proud

    Mrs.Downs didn’t make a sound

    Mr.Downs couldn’t even bother to just be around

    That’s just how life goes for Deborah Downs

    Word around town is that Deborah makes babies frown

    Since she put her own mother in the ground

    Word around town is that Deborah made the horses leap from the Merry-go-round

    As soon as she rode it, the ride broke down

    Word around town is that Deborah makes all the priests repent and bow down

    As if satan himself gave her the thorny crown

    One day, Deborah became tired of being put in the dog pound

    She was not of her name, sick of the put-downs

    So she decided she would put herself down

    Her tomb reads:

    “Here Lies Deborah Downs, Even God Can Be A Clown.”

    This was the tale of Deborah Downs

    It just sneaks up on me. A itch I just can’t scratch. Until I scratch the paper (or keyboard).

    Written on October 9th, 2024

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