Sascha

Alexander Zverev 
is gorgeous,
those eyes are far too green.
 
His golden necklaces choke him 
beat his skin black and blue.
 
They say he’s a next 
greatest of all time.
 
They hope more than think,
he’s a Ken doll they can bend 
to their whim.
 
There’s this girl 
they say she is nothing.
 
A siren who tries
to lure his ship to deadly seas
killing him;
 
or at-least his reputation.
 
But I’ve seen the bruises;
the scratches on his neck 
her tears 
 
as she gave her condemning  
testimony.
 
We all want an heir, 
like kings we pray,
 
but should I and we ignore 
this display.
 
I think we should condemn
or at least question 
if this prince 
 
deserves a 
Holy destruction
for the sins he committed.
 

Blue Roses

Black diamonds, blue roses,
perfume that smells like amber,
fades around midnight,
when bright stars shine through the dull clouds.

Around the mass of dust,
surrounding old lungs,
there are hearts hiding,
that beats like broken syntax.

With messy minds, neat vodkas,
dreams of mountains that smile.
Spending nights writing soliloquies
about cheap medicine.

Rain falls down,
black circles around eyes.
Girls are prettiest when they cry,
that’s why the world makes them so sad.

In a haze, drinking by a fire,
covered to death in sunshine.
Black diamonds on girl necks,
blue roses smell like amber.

Bravado

The scale is broken;
sand is on the wrong side
the bad side.

Its getting too strong,
pushing all else down to the floor
kicking it in their face.

The men up there
in their powerful blue sky.
What’s inside them?
Do we want to know?

They sit in their towers
masks on their face.
But the glue is starting to sink
and burn to their skin.

Don’t they know that all will fall
If a good man believes his own bravado?

Its coming soon.