Blind Eye

My eyes didn’t look
but my heart didn’t turn away
to see your new girlfriend
holding the same hand I held yesterday

I try to ignore you,
front like didn’t see you
yet two hours from the location
my emotions scream for you
loudly, love sings my song
of desperation, silently
my soul brawls quietly
as you make eye contact with me
communicating in ways we did
in ’08, January

Nutella eyes dance with
... if only for a moment
chemistry is broken
my heart watches you as you look away
leaving my eyes to stare, at something I didn’t see
like when I saw that red stop sign in front of me
when I met you
and times I unsure of my own future
I was sure if I was there,
so were you.

Wanting to fight for you
in spite of my loves defeat
at night, reaching for you
in my life jacket
but this ocean’s too deep

I said I wouldn’t wait-
my heart doesn’t hear my pleas
if only my love for you
was the same as my love for me.

Ignorance

Yes!I would like to trade this pair of shoes, for a pair of Timberlands
They were my Grandfather's marching shoes, he passed them down to me
told me that they would help me take a stand

Said he marched in those shoes until they open the school doors to
educate the black man.

He said he marched in those shoes until he had the right to vote
Democrat or Republican.

He said he marched in those shoes until they had grass and mud stains
from all over America's land

He said he marched in those shoes while being hit with bricks and
bottles because he had some demands

He said he wanted to be able to drink from any water fountain his
thrist commanded.

My Grandfather did a lot of marching in those shoes just to prove
the black man was a man.

I would not do that to my Timberlands

Copyright © Simone Byer, 2007

Our Universe (Orion's Belt, part ii)

I want to intoxicate you with thoughts of me
Or maybe of what you and me
can be
Together.
I want to fulfil all your dreams
As you sink into my inner self,
Connecting your soul to mine
Until there’s nothing left of Ours to hide
From you...

Or

me.

He asks………how do I make u feel
I pause………….I blink rapidly………then…….I smile
………I close my eyes and
I picture deep dark purple skies
decorated with silver liquid stars
Dripping into a spherical reservoir

One
Drip
At
A
Time

Creating tiny ripples that disperse
Separate
But still connect
Those tiny droplets cause a wave [my emotions]
To flow like rapids until
My cup rennet over [see my silver tears]
And I catch droplets of mercury on my fingertip
It trickles onto my lunar surface [my skin]
Joined by other tiny droplets
They sit
Gelatinous silver semi domes
In the lightness of my land masses
They sit
Unable to be pinned down by pressure
But at the slightest touch
They multiply
And
They become……..still….yet……never stagnant
Continuing to flow from
Burgundy circles floating in ivory seas
That dilate uncovering the view to my soul
My black pools reflecting
Sliver liquids flowing to and fro
Forming beautiful shapes ever changing
Never remaining the same
Yet
Essentially at their core
Oh………so familiar
Contracting in the cold
Expanding in the warmth [of your voice]
SilkySatinyFragileIndestructibleStrongSoftUnbreakable
I answer………come……wade with me in pools of silver liquid stars
……and experience how you make me feel…….

INEXPLICABLE BEAUTY

© Byer S., 2009

$*)^$£!"(*&*^%%*&$ (wordsless)

When will my love for for him surpass horizons
When will the absence of love allow me to stop fighting
and instead
of holding my gaurd up
like an onduty python
because my vunerability is now heightened
becauseI
now have to deal with what you done to me
in the past
in my future
and it makes me frightened.
Cornered.
Cupid aimlessly pulled his trigger
with no second thought to do it
but yet, there it was with your name carved in the bullet
coz see,
he was the last thing going through my mind
with each ripped vein from my heart
through the countless puddles of pain i cried
with no condensation nor evaluation
just unaswered questions to ‘whats’ and ‘whys’


Copyright © Simone Byer, 2009

Do You Hear What I'm Saying????

As previously mentioned, I work with Choice FM from time to time, normally on promotional projects. Finally... two years down the line, you can now catch me ON AIR, with Richard Blackwood, and co-host, Aaron Fontaine on Choice FM, 96.9 every Sunday, 1-4pm!

Truthfully... Charlie Kenny is giving me some production training- some real in studio experience! I also get to host the show with admirable people and expand my portfolio

People... enjoy the race to the top... the way down ain't pretty!

*Remember to TUNE IN!!*

I Wanna Make Poetry to Ya!

I will be performing at this event on the 19th August 2009.
I dont usally perform, because I'm a poet, not a spoken word artist- but i've been asked :)

THIS IS THE MAP!! Directizzlez

Cast Away

(Normally I edit my poems, but I wrote this before I cried to sleep, so the poem is in it's rawest form to convey my pain)

Have you ever been so in love that
it takes another man to make you
think of all the feelings you thought you left behind
been in love and out of touch so much
that you try and sleep away the pain everynight
squeezing your eyes, so tight, until you cry from your hearts weakness
of being in love with someone you cant speak to
because you made your skies grey
so that his could be blue
And you were so indenial
no life jacket could pull you through.
In a wave of confusion, everything's wrong
sinking deeper into the problem
because this sea has no back door.
But I was so careful,
so sure,
I remember, nine months ago-i've been here before...

and you haven't put pen to paper in so long
because you know, all it takes is one verse to come along
and break you down
because your presence is so silent
but our history rings so loud
It deafens me into isolation
paralysed by cupids negative abrasions

and
my tears halt me on my page
as I cling onto a rope that hangs from yesterday
that unravels day by day you dont call
or text
not that threehundred and sixty five
I hope it's the next

Unravel my love for you
and help us stay afloat
because I might as well sink, if you're not on this boat

Copyright © Simone Byer, 2009

Congratulations

Your words hit me like a ton of bricks and I almost die instantaneously
“I’m engaged…engaged…engaged and
I have a baby on the way…on the way…on the way”
Words echo in my mind and pierce me at the core.
Your unexpected news startles me as coldness settles into my being.
I want to tell you I miss how we use to lay awake at night
Tracing your soul with my fingertips, massaging your spirit.
But…I remain silent
Drifting off in a daydream
Of what use to be you and me.
What we should be.

But instead- I clutch the phone tighter as I choke on my tears
The pain of losing you rings loud in my ears.
Traces of us shattered right before my eyes
Fragmented pieces of our love is reminiscent of lost hope cascading over broken shores
And I am drowning in my ill-fated reality that you are no longer mine…
Our hearts and souls no longer intertwine.

Do you recall how you use to offer me your cup of thoughts
And I would eagerly drink just so I could be consumed with your ideas?
I want to jog your memory and summon you back to the past where our love dwelled.
I know our love was seemingly birthed before it’s time
But I am positive if given a second chance this would last.
Just think back and recall my touch…my heart…my caress
and maybe then you can
Reflect on the love we use to share.
And selfishly, I feel that what you’re telling me is unfair.
Because I taught you how to love
I nursed your bruised soul
I'm the one who found the code to those complicated combinations you used to lock away your heart.
It was I…don’t you remember?
Do you recollect the intensity we use to share? It’s still there…
Stop denying the truth
Can you honestly search within your soul and say that pieces of my being does not lay at the gateway to your heart?

“Hello?!”
Interrupts my thoughts.
I flinch because my name still rolls off the tip of your tongue.
I sit silently on the other end of the phone
In my mind I carved your name on a bullet because you were the last thing going through my mind
only to see the blood we bleed aren't the same,
Mines a mixture of alcohol and cocaine
not that I'm hooked on that stuff, just that i'm addicted to pain
But instead I find a way
to momentarily tuck away the pain
as I mumble
“Congratulations.”

© Byer S., 2009

Mr Big. Shot

Nicely placed in your
corporate corner office
Mr. executive.

Highly stylish-
Emotions of waste
but I still wonder
what was so special
that he kept in his briefcase

Taking his time
step by step, up that
sky scraper building
where in his mind
he looks down over everything he has power of.

I'm down here
Starring past the clouds floating in oceans of awe and amazement
As a love letter
labeled to you as personnel
confidential,
contents original
as the day we met
where your eyes took me on a journey
and the things I wrote then are now the things I now regret.

YOU
park your C- Class
and head to your lift-
Ground floor- the introduction
1st floor- the beginning
by the fourth floor
that's where my heads starts spinning
and the fifth floor...well that's where it starts!

No surveyor coming to fix this lift
heights have me dizzy
Don't know who, what, why and WHICH
how and when
my emotions
give me the time
to connect this paper
to my pen and,
then
after you glide through those steel doors
briefcase still in hand
Kenneth Cole soles pounding those floors, each individual step more powerful than the last
anticipating
every next step
to that

Nicely placed
corner
corporate office
MR EXECUTIVE.

That's right-
open those blinds
let that light shine through
Mr. Big Shot
with no remorse as to what you put me through.
Yes-Mr. Big Shot
sit in your over sized
premium Italian leather seat-sit there
completely oblivious as to what's going on down here in my streets.

Mr. Big Shot-
you opened me like a love letter
carefully and precise
with your envelope opener
exposed me to the world outside my shelter.
The beautifully, handwritten
four page memo
of which you read
emotions overflowing like Del Rio
but yet haunts me like a shadow
And through those blinds
you brought light onto my page
threw away my envelope
and scanned me thoroughly.
With delicate cares of my cornersnot smudging my...
ink
not leaving me with a crease
but your every fingerprint
UNTIL
your Blackberry rang
that's when you branded me
put your name on me
Got your personalised stamp
and put an end on me
folded me
and slide me to the side with your name engraved on me
with invisible ink
Only I can see
but everyone else
pays for your discrepancy

Mr. Big Shot
Nicely placed in your
corporate corner office
Mr. Executive.

She didn’t need to see it.
Young eyes aged before the chance to open them to life’s endless possibilities.
Before she could broaden her intellectuality.

Before she coulduse her abilities before it was rendered
with the world’s impurity,
things of seven, she shouldn’t see.

No longer can I shelter what is already strong; to be vulnerable,
regardless if her vulnerability was her closest alli
stolen to the world of deception and death is alive.
Not just living, but staring her, right in the eyes.
But as she stands at four foot nine, shoulders back
and her chin to the skies.
With no choice,
but to take the training wheels off her life and ride,
leaving them behind too young to realize her child had died.
Conceived into a world
of deception and war cries.
But, at four foot nine, she stares at life and death, through the barrel,
in the eyes with more power than him.




Copyright © Simone Byer, 2008

My Last Drip

I refuse to hold on
to what towards my heart, is a loose grip
my fingers in this love glove
could do nothing but let every drop of this love
drip.

Mainly becauseat this point, you didn’t intend for it to be fixed
but chose to risk
everything we could have had
as deep asour daughter calling you dad.
So this is the last drip about you you will see,
writing about days we spent as long poems by Haiti Blues
which have now been minimized to bad Haikus.
You are no longer the man who introduced me to love,
I’m no longer the girl that cries over what was.

It’s time I found another wayto recapture that smile I had yesterday
and that may mean breaking my own heart to escape
how I loved you, regardless of your personality traits,
Regardless how I love you more than anything else
I put you before my fragile state of mental health.

But before I let our ink dry, take my hand and close your eyes,
walk with me to
six months ago
where my heart said yes and your mind said no
nine months ago
when I could never compare you to my ex
ten months
to when you had me spelling your name during sex
a year when you smiled and said
‘hello, can I be your friend’….

Now
Open your eyes
let go of my hand, no more walking
No more talking
No more writing
No more ink
I refuse to let another ounce of my love
Drip

The Reason I Don't Do Sweet Boys

Minds vibe

Pens collide

Hearts pouring

Souls stirring

Using Braille for poetic tales for only our eyes to see.

He was my inkspiration,

my muse, the very core of me.

My hearts counterpart

My before and after
My complicated melody, my beautiful disaster.

He would touch that spot in me and let his ink drip
He’d tease me with cup after cup of his poetic intellect

He’d whisper my name, his “bolt of lightning”

Because apparently, I’m silent yet electrifying (lol)!

Even simple conversations shared between us was poetic

His words left with me low on insulin and had me diabetic

Sense of taste- gone, his love left me blind

Saw he had found a new muse…a new rhythm to his rhyme.

I look back on the love we shared that’s now folded on lines of loose papers

As I reminisce on the sweetness of our chemistry as I sit back, and it’s bitter.

Sometimes I still feel his handwriting every night

maybe use his pen on me, crafting a few lines...

maybe write another masterpiece by letting our stanzas intertwine

But for now I’ll keep the memories of us folded in a corner of my mind.

I will honestly admit that it’s hard to let go

My pen is no longer ink-spired because his absence has shifted my flow.

His name is invisibly tattooed on my heart

I fell deeply in love with him the first time I read his work of art.

And even though I am hurt beyond belief I try my hardest not to show it

So I keep the memories of yesterday close to my soul

and regret the night I fell in love with a poet.

This is How it Starts...

I thought its about time I got myself on one of these things....

I've been a writer for a while.. but I need to GET SOMEHWERE with it now...These days I work for free like I get paid for it! Credit Crunch is the only thing I have for breakfast these days, that and a glass of.... water!

Call me a reviewer, journalist, writer, poet, media mogul, creative muse... whatever-- just call me!

Young, vibrant, crazy and creative... iMaPoet.in.progRESS