Category: Dapper Suits

These are post within various categories. Enjoy !

Inaccurate Precision

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I’m always right sometimes…

I mean who else can find such greatness in depression?

He says I’m painfully beautiful; I hope smirks can calm nerves.

More times than less I appear invisible.
People are always looking at me, but they cant see me.
Is that why they stare so blankly?

He tells me I have a noticeable absence, but is never coming is better than being late?

I’m always right sometimes….

I can’t help that I am naturally strange !

I had a dream last night, I mean we all do….it’s no open secret

However,
You & I were in a room alone together.
Suddenly, we both began laughing hysterically, kind of like a sad joy.
We just sat, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed until this morning…I woke up dead.

Now this may sound wilde, but I can resist anything, except temptation!
I am a wolf in lambs clothes, an honest thief.
And unfortunate as this mastery is, I am great at smuggling hearts.
A little pain never hurt anyone, right?

I’m always right sometimes…

I mean these are modern relationships are so old fashion!
Let’s create our own love; it’s our only choice!
The start to this will be amazing!
Then we can end painfully beautiful.
A little pain never hurt anyone, right?

I’m always right sometimes…

Pain for Pleasure?
You seem awfully happy; why I am crying?
Just because this is almost exactly what I wanted.
Now, let’s not act like adult children about this.
We agree to disagree…

I’m always right sometimes…

I always write, sometimes in wordless books
This ones I named : Our Love-Hate Relationship.

Inaccurate Precision.

-Leighrick

Where Do Lost Angels Go?

Posted in Dapper Suits, Initations, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Flowing water open portals.
whether closed or open, they become free.

Free of feeling, thinking, oblivious to knowledge.
Why am I crying?

Drops of glee, grief, enmity, even when drowsy.

Bottled water preserving them over years.
The pit fall, the pitiful — cork high and bottle deep.

There is so much in the rush, but slow to accumulate.

I am not weak, I am strong !

There has been weeks in years, I’ve held on
When I listen to this song, when I see that face, when I smell the fear, when I taste the salt —I stand tall.

Bursting out into tears like a fire-hydrant.
I’m my own river, cliche, denial.

For crying out loud, don’t be so quiet!!
Say something, at least the most you can say is ‘nothing’..

What’s wrong?
Nothing.

Flowing water opens portals.
whether closed or open, you become free.

-Leighrick

Castles Made of Sand

Posted in Dapper Suits, Love, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , Leave a comment

I hear my train comin’ as the hands on the clock get close to holding each other. 12 marks the spot. Midnight to be exact. When the darkness reveals its self in the beauty of the stars, and still hides in the light. There are too many stars to count; I wonder is it possible to run out of wishes? Well — I empty my pockets out into the pond. The change I’d pay the price to see. Within the ripples, [stop the music]….I’m not quite finished dreaming.

Listening to the winds singing, imagine we were dancing with stars. We can be the first to create life on Mars, and instead of counting sheep to fall asleep we sit and watch the cow measuring the circumference of the Moon.

Tonight it’s blue with a purple-ish tint,
I figured it’s been walked on, one too many times…

We are one of a kind, a love many couple wish they could explain — even better comprehend. So we pretend that our love doesn’t really exist. Like this is all just some fairy tale, because even those endings aren’t always happy. Secretly we’re happy. Publicly we’re ignorant and bliss is our shadows. And even from 2,000 miles I can hear my train coming. Midnight is leaving.

Questioning my sadness, why is love so deceiving? All board the train, I step foot on; then transforms into paper planes, and floats me back down onto my window seal.

Still.
I sit still.

I left for you, and you never came to get me. You’re guilty of stealing smiles. My innocence is steel, you can never penetrate the real me….I guess I am the one that’s guilty. That seems to be all I ever hear, judgements.

You never came to get me.

I heard my train coming, and I tried to wait patiently for you…you were never really here? I pushed you so far I thought you’d bounce back, instead you stayed in the clear. Far away from what I needed, but close to everything I wanted.

Power trips on bleeding hearts and exposes vulnerability. Now I am up all night counting how many sheep can idealistically equal a cow.

Memories take vacations, and some never bother to reappear. They become residents in complacency, neighboring fear. I AM NOT SCARED ANY MORE – only scarred.

How long does it take bruises to heal on broken hearts? ….

I guess this piece is just a start. We can still be a collage instead of a picture; there’s no such thing as perfect art! We haven’t practiced much anyways, but we can start. Take the best of you and best of me, embrace what we’ve become, actors call this role play.

THIS REAL, I feel it — at least I felt it. I mean I thought I had before.

The Pain — You keep digging holes trying to tunnel into my heart, but you’ve barely scratched the surface. You’ve been here before.

I choose to ignore the thoughts of you that rise like smoke when the train approaches.

Love. This is the shit that every one longs for?
That they wait so long for?
That they bend their backs and run laps trying to chase it, go through hurdles, and take long jumps for…. sacrifice.

That must be nice.

Being able to love the one you longed for….

I hear my train a coming. I see deep feelings rocking relationships. I smell the exhaust from the complaints.

Crash landing.

The one in a million we all mourn for.

No Love Lost,
-Leighrick

No FIlter

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A promising question.

Promiscuous Answers.

Aware that there’s life after me, but

Next life time, will I see you again?

Actions of selfishness,

Defy the suppression of nostalgic thoughts.

The hurt of remembering leaves emotional scars.

Two sleeves baring tattooed broken hearts.

This wardrobe neglected and dejected.

Hand-me-downs – Hand me down faded smiles.

Happiness hasn’t felt the same

Not even Sadness itself has felt this shame.

Conversations turn into confessions,

History’s left unwritten – the mysteries…

What is (y)OUR story?

I’ve revised mine.

This Fantasy has turned Non-Fiction.

Once believed in fairy tales until discovering,

Witches can be men too.

As minds wonder –

On those long walks are you searching for me?

Inside feeling empty, but how long will this last?

Hungry since birth, never tasting satisfaction.

How does one go about embracing the present

If they cannot fully comprehend their past?

Promising Questions.

Broken Answers.

Has Cupid cast a spell on us forever?

Cursed with loving you, never?

Instead I curse until I start feeling a little better.

Use to weather any story together,

Star gazing as the sky is falling,

Today feels more like Christmas in the Summer.

-Leighrick ♥

Inanimate Objects

Posted in Dapper Suits, Free Writes, Poetic Renegade, Thoughtful BlurbsTagged , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

My notebook is tapping me on the shoulder asking me to be hugged.

 

The paper screaming at me wanting to indulge in my thoughts.

 

Now my pen is crying to the paper, “I just want to be ouched!“

 

Now my conscience is laughing at me, cause she’s scrambling my thoughts.

 

I’m trippin’ staring at the ceiling…

“Did my brain just fart?“

 

My mind is speaking to me, “Leighrick embrace your Art“

 

Now my feelings “cock-blocking”, cause now I dont even know where to start.

 

I close my eyes and my futures looking back at me like,

“Come on, I could’ve sworn I gave you a head-start“

 

I am chasing my future in my dreams

 “Boy is this odd“

 

Now sit back and finish reading, acknowledge me…

 

“Damn, now that’s ART.”

 

–Leighrick

Unfinished Eulogy

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Lights off.

Candles burning.

Eyes closed.

Heart hurting.

I find no condolences in loneliness.

My bed is comforting, but there’s too much space.

As my pillows lend their shoulders to me, I plead my case.

I plead the 5th.

Well…this 5th I got in my hand.

Minus about 3 oz,

so you can add whatever left

of this 8th..

I just want something to draw a smile from me, without misery being written all over my face.

His name permanently engraved,

We’re hangin’ on a thread,

I guess symbolically this chain, and I tend to notice its

been lingering to left side,

where the melancholy is the strongest..

With these words, Ive built sentences

and with these sentences, Ive filled notebooks.

A literary chest to store these memories

being ready to be put at rest, but

within these notebooks,

I have written a thousand drafts of Eulogies,

but have never finished one.

Its like being 3 1/2 feet deep

negotiating with Satan,

because Ive already been to Hell and back

trying to attain some truth and knowledge behind, Real Love.

But

the other half of me

is being cradled by God,

In a dream, but it seems nothing less than real.

I’m not gonna lie some nights I contemplate it.

Life without him has been a Broadway play, without the music.

So much potential yet so much pressure, enough to make someone lose it.

And I did,

within the “it”

I lost “I”

So really…

I’m still looking for the two of us.

Phantoms of you appear seldom,

only because I know you’ll never be here,

but its my Guilty Pleasure.

Still —

I am here…

Lights off.

Candles burning.

Eyes closed.

Heart yearning, but Mind careful.

I am Sorry tho,

I had to get that off my chest,

My whole thing is, I am afraid.

There’s no other place my heart would be,

than on my sleeve, for all to see, cause….

there’s no doubt

I still love him.

-Leighrick

Masterpiece

Posted in Birth, Pieces of PoetryTagged , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Paint the face of peace.

 

White out the traces of hatred.

 

Highlight respect.

 

Sing songs of intellect

 

Plaster over the discouragement of humility.

 

Dance to the rhythm of equality

 

Recognize the facade.

 

Don’t act creativity – live it.

 

Pasting together actions creating history

 

Write the motivation of the movement

 

Photograph the mirror of the future- YOU(th).

 

Play the instruments of demonstration.

 

Let the vibrations travel through souls uplifting unity in all.

 

Speak Love.

 

Draw lines of tolerance…

 

Sculpt minds of awareness…molding our revolution.

 

There is no price on art – art is ones soul.

 

They say money makes the world go round, but the buck stops here. How much do you cost?…plus tax.

 

–Leighrick