A.M. Escape Art

The A.M. has happened upon us yet again
Sunlight ascending; spreading poems
Humans walking, working, speaking
In tones that illustrate such elaborate effects
Often considered a form of the art of escapism
Dreamers, thinkers, doers, poets,
Artists, ballerinas, actors, singers,
All masters of escape art
With every venue they inhabit
New shapes are concocted
Each day, each task, is a performance
Although exists not an audience
Seemingly because we escape
Opinions matters not to us
Hell, I just escaped for the moment
Would you like to escape with me too?

9th ☽

Safety wasn’t a brand of quarreling

For it was known that I was of infinite value

Sudden circumstances in the moment
Establishing rare hopes that weren’t previously held

How it was such an inviting risk
Disappointment was the making of fiction

I knew not of catastrophic probabilities
When cherished by such a caring creatures

Around my neck lies an emblem of my sincerity
To hold for multiple eternities

Now

A collection of valiant philosophies fornicate my cranium
Philosophies that mere earthlings fail to fathom

This desire to birth from such a complex asylum
A power not of the world of which you and I speak

Neither comparison nor ability can be measured
One can try but his efforts shall equate to nothingness

Man may take from it what he wants if he must
Although the return will be of a much lesser degree

Patience is but a fallacy
Now is a gift that shan’t compose contrition

On

It was there
In the pinnacle of that darkly moment
From within all sectors that comprised the universe
That years and years on I had yet to know…

Its secrets were embellished in fancy lettering
Skyjacked by great shock I was
Before the effects consumed my well being

I scrutinized the shape of which I had taken
Finding myself that fully clothed within trench coat of riddles
To neither of the questions had I obtained the answer
Only a wink of desire

Pass The Tequila But Don't Spill The Passion

I find it to be quite sexy
The rhythm to which your hair swings
When you softly run your fingers through
It is but only a reverie to yearn
To see many happy, shiny faces
With a striking quality such as yours
And to drink of your lips
Within the wake of the moon

Her Neck Screamed One Tune Though Her Thighs Screamed Another

Again I played witness
To the stunning vignette that was her body
All evening the thought to compose words
Materialized from a former canyon of desolation
Merely because I had been swept into the distance
As I am forsaken to ponder
When she’ll become attainable

But She Looked So Lovely Under The Lights

Each time that I see her
A switch is stimulated within me
So arcane yet freakishly alluring
And like a tiger hunting its prey

I chased her pirouetting shadow ever so enthusiastically
The taste of it quite addicting in a hopelessly romantic sense
Tirelessly becoming the axis on which my beliefs lie

Her Hips Were Like A Motion Picture

Thick like knuckle sized sheets of LSD
Her hips swung just like the doors of my virginity
With great ease I grew aroused by the rhythm
That produced the beat of evolution

How I imagine gently seizing her hand ever so tight
And holding it for only the universe knows how long
Occasionally I ponder on whether or not she knows
The lovely effect that she has on my bones

There Was A Tattoo Of Religion Upon Her Lips

If like a sponge she acquired the ability
To ingest the amour that I have for her
The possibilities of establishing a new religion
Lie concrete and sound as the images
Of her body and mine as one

If ever a chance arose to fix a woman
She’d be just the gash to mend
And the scriptures would be her satin skin

Eight Track History

I had taken a seat along the sequences of curiosity
When suddenly my mistress dawned
Her eyes alternating in succession
With the pattern that were mine

“Hello” was the word that ejected from her lips
Firecrackers had begun ascending
History was being sculpted before us

Foolish Sex Of The Century

Hardly any creature is
Of equal proficiency
To decipher a melody
Void of meaning

Though the reason for such foolery
Defines the existence of apathetic beings
Therefore upon there foreheads
Carved were no meanings

Between The Legs Of Dogma

The artistry of the dogmatic
Lies upon the breaths that are bated
Unwanted sarcasm tossed
Though often musters hostility

And the branches arc
With each split decision
Affirms the logic
Behind each laceration

Darkly Teat Of Misery

Here I stand
In the arms of a comely apocalypse
Foreseeing my deathly fortune
Reality never served as a good friend

But it was in that moment
When the sun shed her darkly grin
And hummed a song of comfort
In the mass of increasing terror

A Strange Sunday

‘Twas something strange in the way she waltzed
A majestic triumph of the age
Her classic imagery paints the room
With such vibrant colour

Often this will leave a man to ponder
Upon life’s eccentricities
Will they ever shape into meaning?

Graphic Barbie

My fair ladylove
How dare she saunters the halls
Taunting a man so graphically
She holds the very knowledge
That her figure is astonishing
It is to be concluded that she cherishes
Being the focus of my poems
She then exhibits herself quite flawlessly
Bearing equivocal fervor

Technicolor 3

Daylight has cuffed the forsaken canyons
And as I am just rousing from a fair slumber
Saluted I am by a spectrum of strangely colored smoke
Could it be possible that evolution advanced so hastily?
The mist that is emitted from her orifice
Reminds me of happy, platinum things
May her lips bear more phenomenons

Cloud 33

When enveloped within her caress
One will have come to master the conception
That blackness isn’t as careless as she seems

Murmuring monotonous nocturnes
To inaugurate safety
And endorse loyalty

Now it is not entirely certain
Whether such knowledge
Is deemed fallacious or authoritative
Though does there exist a plausible reason
For such subjective musings?

Happenings

Along this strange venue I tread
Arcane a man of many
Concocted from what is deemed to be
The most unimaginable beliefs

Each direction guided by a thought
Happens to have a mind of its own
Conspiracies and schizophrenia harmonize

Like loved ones who’d never forsake I

One would gather that darkness
Is like an oblivious obscurity of validity
My brain has molded around that thought

The Ghostly Aura

Such discernment would never have dawned
nor would one ever think such artistry
Could be made to appear so sullen
Her cheeks glistening so brightly in my wake
Then my eyes descended upon her lips
Her velvety, smooth lips…
arouses an esoteric aura within
an aura undefined

Voluptous Gothic

In the absolute black of night
Was when she seized my eye
It appeared as if she had been glancing at a ceiling
That had been adorned by cobwebs for years
Living in the element of inquiry
Wondering if the light shall ever glimmer upon her frame
Her eyes as bleary as they are profound exhibited poems
Epic poems beyond that of humanity’s comprehension

Each tragedy that she had ever been dealt
Was present amongst each page
As within her skin they had turned

A Red Minute Trois

‘Twas a rather sodden evening
When the congregation had begun departing
Pending an austere twister
I know not if it was deliberately
though for some reason the bright red hue

That comprises your vehicle ensnared my eyes
it was in that moment when your lovely smile

Rose to prominence in the

Gradually diluting presence of the rain

Chuckles sprang forth in merriment

A Red Minute Deux

Invested was what seemed like infinity

There I was peering at such iconic symbolism

Indefinite filaments of unprecedented passion ascend

I battle to suppress said ardor though perpetually it heightens

Each time her face shall surface

in the sanctuary that comprises my reveries

Sacrificed I am to perish within her sexy, inviting aroma

That illustrates my voracious carnality

EQuiNOx

A distinguished symbol of the age

Happened before my eyes

The lustrous blend of colours

Births a new definition

Brandishing oaths in less words

Than expected to be composed

The unprecedented passion

Causes me to scream internally

Her eyes emulate a saga yet to be told

Although each chapter presents a new beginning

The Invitation

Fondled by the temptation of an autumn sunset

Erect stands a woman in the cradle of such potent winds

Quite dashingly contributing colour to the scene

Her silky, black dress enveloping her ever so tightly

Composing the shape of an inviting taboo

Whilst refraining all comely sounds of vernacular

How her lips whisper things of which previously I knew not

Sign o’ the times

Titanium Roses In Her Pocket

And later that evening she sauntered

along the halls of the cathedral

with callous egoism jingling in her pocket

whilst chuckling of undiscerning humor
I know not the definition of such folly
though strangely I must attest that I weltered in rapture

When she evanesced with no concern for a colloquy

Stabmesexy

‘Twas yet again the occasion had occurred
When we had acknowledged each other’s existence
Though we paused at the chance to address the issue
‘Twas in that moment of panic I had asked to speak to you
But you had other miscellaneous missions to frequent
No words were pronounced of your return
I coveted to enunciate of a keepsake I had composed
Yet you shunned away my generosity
How for a moment I yearn for your ear
You’d cease to be dazed by such fallacious theories

Letters To Lilith

Oh, duchess when you ascend your neck

To scrutinize the skyline

Were you aware that you could discover?

The very marvel that for years you so yearned?

Oh, duchess did you think it feasible

That you could matriculate the novelty ‘tis amour

Did you?

Open your eyes alluring one

Shan’t be a reason to averse your devoirs

though you must dismember all that bleeds

A Red Minute

Whilst a medley of us lied upon the flocculent canvas

An ever so comely sound had been shaped of the void

‘Twas the sharp sound of supremacy coming to pass

Though honored am I to speak

Upon the sweltering passion

‘Twas an invitation like none before

Scourging these bones of the dark

Of which they habitually drink

The quaking quite mollifyingly

Renders a sense of solidarity

To unfathomable tribulation

Sjöfn

And again surfaced that smirk
Glinting ever so alluringly in my wake
Kindling an effigy of suspense

Amidst the faces that evening
With the minutes I dissolved
As classic fairness advanced
Forsaken was I to saturate within carnality

Could such a reason exist
For such monumental idolatry?
Could such possibilities exist
For the sake of emasculating warriors?

Bradypodion pumilum

For each morning that spawns

I evade your virulent dialect

Each syllable born of your orifice

Is embellished by grisly tones

As helpless I am forsaken

To canker in ire

To awake is to honor the culture of the universe

Though your miserly revelry ceases to deliver amity

Whilst your exploits wither into oblivion

Orphan Manor

Whilst I sauntered the halls

Her face surfaced before the lantern

That beloved grin an abstract design

Though she was settled behind glass

Fashioning the imagery ‘tis window shopping

Presenting the proclamation that she’s without a price

I covet not for alienation to shape us

I hunger for a sense of harmony

For us to never have spaked of tragedy

shaking.black.freaks

Shan’t one discern
Between a reverie yet to conclude?
And unprecedented retribution?

Society may think it dexterous
To berate the triumph of others
And reprimand them
in exclusive and dire scrutiny

Though such a sycophant
Becomes aroused by
The fashioning of controversy
An indictment is questionable

The Violinist’s Vendetta

As the hail makes love to the streets
I query its vendetta with I
What had I done to be defamed
By such unforeseen chagrin

The sound ‘tis the climax of the horizon
Echoes that of a violinist scarred by sexual mortification
The harmony plays in quite a lovely manner

Could hook one quickly if not careful

Appeased I sit in a wooden, black chair
And saturate in fine rock refrains
A pacifying compensation if I may say
A scripted version of hell

I, Square

Oh, how such calligraphy glints
In the waking sun ‘tis betrayal
Post-ejaculatory nocturne

Such crucifixion of misery
Performs as an aid to impending tragedy
And obliterates the art ‘tis suicide
so that infants be branded with

a mark of amour that is profound

In each and every star lies
a distinct honor undefined
In due time all shall awaken
Arousing armistice

$6 Trillion Condom

The callous hands of clock towers
Age the ignominy that has become
The very face known as American society

6 billion pricks occupy every anus
Engraved within this universe
And the one prick who appeared distinctive
Behaved like that of an equal associate

What are such clocks good for
Minus aiding the counting of fiendish nightmares
Foolishly published by such an inviting succubus?
I rue when I had first acknowledged her existence

Tachyonic Antitelephone

Fuck! Her choices establish tragedies
The key that fosters felicity long since marred
But now she’s found the freedom she so passionately sought
It was gifted to her as a straight jacket
In the colour of her choice

Every evening she sleeps within such paraphernalia
As the solace pacifies her in classic tones

With the cushioning characterized as a mirror
Emulating the shape she has so flawlessly taken

Two years in the knapsack
And to your very eye I am the poster child
For used condoms and tampons
Am I not worth more than fish?

A Thousand Funerals

During the pre-evening liturgy
Betwixt a shabby stall
Irate I sit scribing seasoned verses
Silent as an infant in production

Whilst the slaughtering of pacifism
Across the universe ‘tis my soundness
Perforated by the eerie current

‘Twas delivered via the vapors of her breath

Curtly, such graphic memories gnaw the very bones
Of what I had thought to be timeless romance
Though once again I’ve been forsaken
To drink all ‘twas left unsaid and unknown

M.E.A.N.

Tones of depreciation eject forth estuaries of spittle
Causing unsought billows of panic
Why can’t society be more appreciative
Instead of dejecting them
And divesting them of criticism
Communication is significant
Yet people omit it’s qualities

Famous Nightmare II

For a while I fancied revivifying our alliance
Though I have satiated the cavern
I take honor in the many publications and poems
That years and years from now I will compose
Even though you are a dogmatic hellion
You shan’t shun the clasp of fame

Leafless

A role is fashioned for each of us homosapiens to portray
Though what if such a role ‘twas fashioned
by a fallacious organization of fabulists
Who decode billions of renditions of one monograph
for narcissistic purpose of monetary gain?
Naked fidelity shan’t be placed upon a hollow existence
Nor should verses be fibbed
Why can’t religion be real again?

Sour Scars

My bones take the shape of guitar strings
a genesis froths a sequence of irrevocable refrains
Like eradicated jars along the brink of some nameless beach
It matters not a damn to sulk in sour memories
When all they are adept of doing evolve into forthcoming tribulations
resulting in yearly scars as well as the razing ‘tis lifeless amour

Five Finger Death Punch

Treading along the avenues of iniquity
The downbeat of mollifying choruses alleviate my ears
Ambivalent logic scours my cerebellum
A frown composed of disdain surfaces
Whilst I seek a hero amongst such strange clouds
I covet to taste of the superlative pleasures ‘tis Mother Earth
Though I am left to contemplate when next my happenings

Culiseta longiareolata

Dirt is what she does.
She injects and she ingests and she retreats.
She sears and she is branding the boulevards.
We’ll reap what we never desired.

Beatbox Of A Satanist

Is the occultist aware she's daring,
That she carries the shadiest orifice?
No.
She just defecates and scars remain.


Akin to the likes of an unmarketable comedian:
passion on one side, narcissism on the other.
‘Twas unforeseen.


Enemies working together,
Exchanging callous banknotes.


No one had foreseen this.


Eventually, she'll cripple
from depositing and withdrawing.
But no one knows.
No one can ever know.

Level V

Rancorous, lethargic, avaricious, psychotic,
Enthusiastic, mystified, serene

Does a planet?
A galaxy?

A multiverse incorporates
Secrecy, security, nine or more parallel universes

Eyes are awake

7’s & 8’s

Wake up, her magnetism is perpendicular
Concentrate, renunciation isn’t an option

She coveted her beauty to be paramount
It may not lie adjacent, or acute, closed nor open

Yay, Nay, or,
A night, a century, dissolves from her
Shedding a seventh layer
Shedding the eighth

The understanding of such linear artistry proves to be facile
An acquittal, forthcoming

New art, new liberty
The acquittals continue to waltz
Like multiple grooves shaped by the sand
Into apples and cherries

Microsex

A contortionist achieves climax
Her clitoris saluting her lips
From within an envelope of pleasure
Causing local beatitude
Though one may query such enthusiasm
Her clitoris cooing mollifying concerts
Waltzing against the hips of autumn temptation
That she was vibrant

Or that she was barren
Or that in artistry
This plausible microsecond
The happening of dawn quite imminent
And a canary perched upon a fence
Lavish us with falsettos
Each and every organism throughout the universe
Itself just below its conception
And love equalizes the balance

Universal Fuckery II

Acquiring the libel of critics
Internally at times I bleat
And snarl, brow furrowed
Like an actress when filming a major motion porno
“Originality bid us farewell” screams my advanced intellect
Nothing more than a social outcast who lacks a catalyst
(though thankfully the universe is an object of open ended philosophy)
The voices of such a generation fail to carry notes

Beyond the octave range
Only Canis lupus familiaris feces, in its rejuvenated appearance,
Delivers abstract imagery
What was once honorable has dissolved into media sewage
Virginal darlings now dissolved into marionettes
Shall my poems alienate the public
They shall at least demonstrate bravery

English Dream

Thrice a summer aphrodisia snickered in my face
Yesteryear the fog of boreal passion surfaced across my window frame
Omnifarious passions are surfacing
The insignificance of homosapiens stood the test of time
Life molests all of us, maul us, then sing us to sleep
Spiraling through dimensions decorated with brothels and strip clubs
Aging with the grains of pebble stones
Aphrodisia is a tourist

Major Motion Pornography

A subtle carol echoes of the evening
Upon bended knee I am arrested
Betwixt strange refrains
Shaking the floorboards of Teicu

The evocative moans amplify
The foolish peacemaker of astrologists
The English dream of poetry

Those I coaxed by death
Were the witnesses of the tragedy
And were familiar with its ballad

Crafted the design ‘tis conceptual pornography
Eradicated their honor for vanilla threads
As they shimmy and shimmy

They defile elongated hankering
And retreated in the greenhouse of Woodstock
Its language made iconic by efficacious character

Having often been labeled an experiment
Broadening its brilliance along death’s boulevard
‘tis she who was the stunning one

Her language made sacred by her iconic fame
A long time controversial reference
An automaton, an origin of extraterrestrial etiology

The evocative moans ensnares the tourist

The Colour Of Mockery II

Callous sentences saunter into the quaintest of landmarks
Capturing the cinematography that is the mockery of felicity
At times I ponder on whether its veins quake with fear
In lieu of the eyes marring her with bullet holes
Whilst humming commemorative memories
That now lie lifeless just as the wealth of their youth

Bullet Eater

The fearful varmint that claws at your callous origin
Caused a ceaseless chain of nightmares
A simple faux pas contrives a generation of idiocy
The toes of a screaming infant dwindling in our wake
Loyalty had not yet bared a face of existence
Atonement was never a question but a riddle
Heed your forthcoming capers
For they just may deface you

Cinematography Of A Memory

Oblivious to arcane mishaps
That molest the bones established by society
The echo of her tattoo sings of a great depression
Each time the memory surfaces,
A twisted grin is born
Perhaps this could be the preluding window to existential purgatory

The Murder Diaries V

Establishing the oblivious existence
That were her distant echoes
She seared my skin by way
Of her screaming eyes
And just seconds away 
from marrying the anus of death
to spare my life was damn honorable of her

The Murder Diaries IV

She mirrored the shape of a psychotic hooker
Tattooed by hickeys and bruises
Written upon the pages of her breasts
In lieu of her nightly pearl tuxedo
The teeth protruding from her vagina
Began hissing and spitting at me
The war was far from over…

The Murder Diaries III

Raspy, sexified tones began tightening
Like nooses around my throat
A trail of corpses appeared nonexistent
To millions of natural eyes
Catastrophically I was yet another victim
In the pages of murder that she had composed
She must be found…

The Murder Diaries II

This tongue broadcasts
hushed tones of satanic nature
And strange snickers
resounded throughout the canyons
Chanting nocturnes as irking
as a rhino horn against a chalkboard
yet the prophecy remained clear
I had to find this beast…

The Murder Diaries I

In the billow of mercurial cataclysms
Sharp as the pyrexia of igneous pebble stones
Upon my hindquarters I was cast
The circles that were established
Branded my skin with cancerous nightmares
Crafting the twisted love song fucking my throat
Through the lavender haze I tread
Threatened by a medley of conundrums
The tongue legislating such echoes
‘tis the element I so daringly seek

An E-Mail In Exchange For Misery?

An E-Mail In Exchange For Misery?

A Play Written by Glenn McCrary

Characters

Tucker: Guy who walks into café

London: Lady who Tucker is secretly attracted to

Barista: Takes Tucker’s order

Act I Scene I

Tucker enters  a local café. He reaches the front register and is immediately greeted by the barista. The barista then takes Tucker’s order.

Tucker: Hello, Stuart

Stuart: Hello, Tucker. How are you?

Tucker: Quite alright just about to attend a party. However I thought I would drop in and say hello and possibly replenish my ever decreasing energy.

Stuart: That is completely understandable.

Tucker nods his head in agreement with Stuart.

Tucker: Though enough about me now Stuart. How have you been fairing lately?

Stuart: Eh, no different than the usual sort. Apart from that I have just been working here.

Tucker: That is quite wonderful Stuart. I know you never fail to impress your superiors on a daily basis. Keep at it young sir.

Stuart: Yeah. Anyway what can I get for you Tucker?

Tucker: Oh, just a cup of water with a spot of classic syrup.

Stuart: Comin’ right up!

Stuart then goes to fetch Tucker’s water while taking more orders for customers. Two minutes later he returns with Tucker’s water.

Stuart: There you go Tucker. Have a great day man!

Tucker then exits the café. As he is leaving he spots an attractive young lady exiting the restroom. She is wearing a white tank top with khaki booty shorts. She had strawberry blonde hair with fair skin and light brown freckles along with soft, vanilla pink lips. His eyes rested upon her for a brief moment before he left.

[End Scene]

Act I Scene II

It is the next day. Tucker enters the local café and orders himself a water. He then goes to sit upon the couch to concentrate on his passion for the written word. Suddenly a young lady sits right next to him. She opens her laptop screen to continue her search for the perfect college. To Tucker’s surprise it was the very same girl that he saw yesterday. Shocked by her unannounced re-appearance he introduces himself and decides to strike up a conversation.

Tucker: Hello, My name is Tucker

Tucker extends his hand towards this lady in hope of a potential fellowship.

Returning the favor the lady decides to introduce herself as well.

London: Oh, hey my name is London. Pleased to meet you.

London briefly smiles at Tucker and then immediately returns her attention back to her laptop screen entirely.

Tucker: So me and a friend just finished seeing the latest Ice Age film.

London: Oh yeah? I heard it was good.

Tucker: And you heard right.

Tucker and London both chuckle and smile as awkward silence begins to dawn upon them.

Tucker: Speaking of films what type of films do you like? Do you have a genre of films that you prefer watching?

London: I don’t have a favorite film as I am largely diverse so I like all films ranging from tragedies to comedies. I never identify myself with only one thing.

Tucker: And that is good. I highly respect the fact that you are not limiting yourself. I admire the fact that you are willing to explore before being eclipsed by the ultimate satisfaction. Of course we as humans will never be satisfied for as long as time continues.

London: Not necessarily but I do truly believe that we as humans will eventually find what it is that will satisfy us. We just have to keep looking. Though yes I do believe that our pathetic attempts to search for what we think will satisfy us is the overall reason why we will never be satisfied.

Tucker: Well said London.

Tucker smiles stupidly to himself, opens his mouth, closes it again and then ponders on his next thought to be spoken in conversation.

Tucker: Now if you don’t mind me asking, what are your hobbies? What is your passion in life?

London: Well I have always had a passion for that of the art of theater. I’ve done a lot of Community Theater while in my teens. I also enjoy watching multiple plays. I have even acted in a few of them myself. I also am into architecture being that my parents are both architects.

Tucker: That’s quite impressive. How long has it been since you last acted in a play?

London: Gosh it has been a while. I believe the last play that I was in was back in 2009. It was a play based on The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe

Tucker: And what are some of the names of the plays that you have acted in regarding community theater as well as school plays?

London: Oh gosh I can’t even remember the names of them all but the body of work that I have done for theater is quite lengthy.

Tucker: Excellent! I find that astounding!

London: Yeah! Anyway what is your passion in life Tucker?

Tucker: Well I love to write a lot of poetry. I have self-published four books of poetry. I am currently in school studying Creative Writing & English with a specialization in Poetry. I am also starting to branch out in my field by writing plays. I am so passionate about my poetry that I have made a vow to write until death.

London: Now that’s what I call passion! I have never met a man so passionate!

Tucker and London become smitten with laughter over London’s statement.

Tucker: Well what can I say?

London: Say nothing. Let your words do all the talking. After all they are telling your story so why should you have to talk?

London then winks at Tucker in an enticing manner.

Tucker: London if you don’t mind I’d like to ask you something concerning your passion for the theater. Have you ever considered teaching theater or building film sets?

London: Yes I have considered that. I don’t know so much if I’d want to teach though but I do know a lot of friends of mine that have decided to go that route. What I’d want to do is get a career teaching theater, acting, and building sets and possibly a little marketing.

Tucker: I think that is a brilliant idea because from what I can tell, you are very intelligent and possess the drive and motivation that it takes to get to where you want to go. The reason that I suggested for you to do that is because I figured why do one thing that relates to your passion when you can do all?

London: You make a very good point, Tucker. I’ll keep that in mind.

Tucker: Good. I’m very glad to hear that. Anyways if you’ll excuse me I have a party to attend to but I shall see you when next we meet hopefully. When will I see you again?

London: Oh, you’ll see me. I’m always here so just keep your eyes peeled.

Tucker: Until next time London.

With not a word left to say, Tucker then gets up and exits the café.

[End Scene]

Act I Scene III

It is a new day. Tucker enters the café searching for London. London is nowhere within sight. Twenty minutes pass before London shows up. She is wearing a red blouse with khaki booty shorts again. This time she is with a guy.

London exits the café and stares in Tucker’s direction as she is passing through with her guy friend.

Tucker: Hey London.

London: Oh, hey Tucker how are you?

Tucker: I’m quite alright. I just decided to stop through here and relax for a couple of hours.

London: Oh, good deal.

Tucker: Yeah, is that your boyfriend?

London: I don’t know maybe…

Tucker: Oh, well you know I just thought that he might have been?

London ignores Tucker’s comments and carries on with her date. She and her guy friend choose to sit by a coffee table just behind one of the walls of the café. After about 40 minutes, Tucker decides to walk over to London and speak with her.

Tucker: London! Hey London!

London: Yes! What’s up Tucker?

Tucker: I was wondering if there was anyway that you would like to stay in contact?

London: Sure.

Tucker: Is it okay if I give you my number?

London: Yes. That’s fine.

Tucker then gives London his number.

London: Thank you very much Tucker. I’ll be sure to give you a call.

Tucker: You’re welcome and I look forward to it.

As the sun sets, Tucker exits the café.

[End Scene]

Act I Scene IV

Another day arrives. It is early evening. Tucker enters the café to find London sitting directly in front of him. She is on the phone with her friend while preoccupied by her laptop. Tucker goes to order her a water. He then decides to sit by London.

London: Hello, Tucker.

Tucker: Hello, London. I see you are on the phone with someone.

London: Yeah it is just a friend of mine. Her name is Nina.

Tucker: Oh, well that’s cool.

London: Yeah just give me a second.

Tucker: Ok.

London finishes up her conversation and then turns her attention to Tucker.

London: Ok, sorry. That was my friend. I hadn’t talked to her in a long time. I was so happy to finally be able to talk to her again. You have no idea how long it has been.

Tucker: Understandable. Is she a childhood friend?

London: No, but I have known her for quite a while.

Tucker: Very interesting!

London: By the way Tucker I wanted to show you something.

London begins typing a mysterious web address into her web address bar. She shows Tucker the website she is transferring to.

London: I remember you mentioning to me that you would like to see what plays I have been in when last we spoke. Here’s one that I was in. It was our version of The Chronicles of Narnia. This was way back in December of 2009. These are the pictures of me in the play.

Tucker: These photos are lovely and just the fact that you were in the play is excellent! You look like you had a lot of fun participating in the play.

London: I did have loads of fun. You should have been there. You would have loved it.

Tucker: This makes me wish that we could have met each other sooner.

London: I know right!

An awkward silence prevails.

Tucker: So…. about that number?

London: Oh, right! Here I’ll just give you my email address and you can just ask me for the number through there.

Tucker: That is perfectly fine.

London: Alright good. Well I’ve got to run now. My mom is coming to pick me up and she’s sort of in a hurry so I shall talk to you later. Please e-mail me sometime.

Tucker: I will.

London exits the café without another word.

[End Scene]

Act I Scene V

Tucker emails London approximately forty-eight hours later. Two weeks pass by before Tucker receives a response from London. One day Tucker wakes to a voicemail from London. Anxious to hear London’s response he plays the voicemail.

London’s voicemail: Hi! So, the computer I'd been using stopped working, and I haven't had internet access for about 2 weeks now. But, I do at the moment, so I'll check out the poem, and talk to you later.

Tucker smiles stupidly as he is equipped with a new degree of hope.

[End Scene]

The Colour Of Mockery

Furnished from the beginning with superlative demeanor,
You sway no haughty elbows,
And murder all colours of mockery,

Refrain from staring down the bridge of your nose,
As well as the egocentric adults
That bear the sharpness of a minotaur horn.

Your own sanctuary
Is crafted from knife fissures and bullet nests,
The nightmare of cathedrals;

Though existence must be slain
In order to fashion birth, yet
existence is never slain for applause

The Merchant’s Lady III

From merchants
One law may be derived,
To warn all

Our constitution is a lie.
What they call Evolution
Is nothing more than,

An inflated fallacy
fashioned by the outlaws in us
meanness is constant.

The Merchant’s Lady II

We know not of that Woman,
though ‘tis known that for years
she has begged for death.

what marred such a creature?
unsought furtherance,
everlasting atrocity,

or a centaur,
agog martyrs and honor,

‘tis certain that,
once the castles are built,
their emperors,

though drunk on sex,
and branded by adulation,
shall ascend.

but does fame bespeak
an eternity of pandemonium?
Perchance.

The Merchant’s Lady

The merchant’s lady
saunters into villages
forsaken ages ago,

discovering cues
of lurid-ways no man
would even dare to dream,

much to say she has not
of which can be testified:---
the wretched man!

Philosophy may serve its purpose,
though theory is far
more pleasant than reality.

Universal Fuckery

The majority believe
We were invented by humans
though who could imagine humans

conceptualizing such tasteless fuckery?
Of such reckless women

But the theory stands
who invented aliens?

The Womanizer

To him all women are hallowed
minus those that hustle themselves.

How instantly and cunningly
they commit truculent acts
yet never bribed by mischief

except by rendezvous.

Wizard: Legend Of The Literary Titan

Free from the sins of the America’s bureaucracy,
you were always indifferent
To jealousy,

Yet your poetry
Has fostered poets
To compose legendary verses,

And, though you are distinguished from,
The majority of your contemporaries
The wounds of the broken have been mended.

2Face: An Imagistic Opinion

It has been stated that on judgment day
We may be given not the shape of diamonds,
But of bones.

Plausible now, more than before
In our last days we shall infuse as one
(To mirror the imagism of each other),

Yet display no parallelism
Could that be why we were
Disgusted by daring faces,
Yet never revolted?

Lady Of Mine

She is no lady of mine
For I am impoverished,
Black,
Dependent and coy, ---
Not her class.
I myself
Have told her so, ---
No lady of mine.

Theater For Thoughts

‘Tis they who are fabulists:
The Fakers-to-be who are not
And the Fakers-not-to-be who are.
‘Tis they who employ language
As theaters for thoughts
Composing black apparel
To sheathe the naked corpse
Of the often too black Truth.
‘tis they with the organized souls
Who are fabulists.

The Great Black Swan

The woman
That pirouettes and pirouettes,
Pirouetting as she sweats
And pirouette amongst the reveries
Of men, ---
Underneath the strobe lights
Their libidos
Are great black swans
Against the bloodied vanilla sky.
In the moment
They bark crimson pyre.
The woman, ---
Pirouetting as she sweats,
Young men.

Halfbaked

A wild posy
Shriveled and perished.

The evening-warriors chuckled ---
But the day-warriors fussed.

A wild posy
Shriveled and perished.

Jane Valentine III

She rises
In the darkness,
This burdened woman
Shrunken by
Weariness and regret
Like a black rose in winter
In the icy rain,
Like a wind-swept rose in winter
That has yet to raise its neck
Again.

The Originals

In the California mines
There are 300,000
Native Americans hustling.
What type of verse
Could you possibly
Craft from that?
300,000 natives
Hustling in the
California mines.

The Laws Of Time Travel

Frankly I have been chasing
Someone like her
Matters not to her.
She knows not.

Never once has she known
Nor did I
Now she takes the escape route downtown;
I took a Greyhound out of state.

Skyscrapers

We mourn atop skyscrapers
As our forefathers
Mourned amongst baobab trees in Uganda
Because we have been forsaken,
It is judgment day,
And we’re fearful.

Lovingly As I

To cast an infinite chamber
In certain places of the moon,
To twist and to waltz
Till the black night fades.
Then soften at sultry morning
Underneath a baobab tree
While afternoon stroked the horizon lightly,
Lovingly as I ---
A strange yet, delightful vagary!

To cast an infinite chamber
In the beloved areola of the sun,
Waltz! Twist! Twist!
Till the brisk day is done.
Soften at fallow night…
Underneath the baobab tree…
Night stroking gingerly
Lovingly as I.

Year Of The Pacifist

The chagrin is profound,
A heart is marred,
And bane mushrooms diffuse spores ---
But they deliver elation,
They all deliver pacifism
For which the weary
Spirit yearns.
They deliver elation
In a trivialness
From where
No spirit returns.

Brave II

O, Mighty King of Igneous and Summer,
Cape the earth within an icy quilt
And freeze the damned in their cots.
All without enough covering
To remain warm,
Yet enough food alone to remain strong ---
Freeze, mighty King.
Let their knee caps grow frigid
And their lives cease to exist,
Then tomorrow
They’ll wake up in some fancy mansion of nothing
Where trivialness is everything and
Everything is trivialness.

Autobiography Of A Playwright

I was once an actor,
But the lawyer came.
I was a fighter, too,
But the referee came.

They chased me throughout the forest.
They kidnapped me from the wilderness.
I was stripped to skin.
I faced death.

Now I am fenced
within the prison of helotry.
Now I cluster with the billions ---
Fenced within the prison of helotry.

The Text Message

I’m waiting for my lady, ---
She is Euphoria.

Say it in a naughty tone.
Say it teasingly if you please.

I’m waiting for my lady, ---

We Made Love To The Beat Of The Pages

We have eternity
Lambent before us
Like a snowflake.

Mortality
A one night stand,
A forged signature.

And the slender stream of ink
Slithers along the pages we found.

We write!

Breakfast Before Daybreak

Her lips are as pink as the plume of a flamingo,
Her eyes are like fair, seasoned pine apples.
I love her.
Her curves are like annular eclipse, a sable daybreak.
I love her.
And her skin is the vanilla of a maple leaf in summer, but a sexier color,
I want to touch her.

Viva La Imagism³

The red kings,
And the black kings,
And the kings of garnet and jasper,
Lie silently behind plexiglass
While the population
Is petrified.
Yet the red kings,
And the black kings,
And the kings of garnet-jasper,
Are only strange marionette kings
That the population themselves
Have created.

Murder In The Cinema

The harrowing face of dearth,
The knuckles of vexation,
The callous, grand toes of Karma,
The bones of qualms in a spirit
That wished to wreak no fault ---
He saw what happened
To loved ones of mine
At that theater in Colorado.
She saw what happened
To loved ones of mine ---
Beggars with loaded weapons
Behind a shroud of fear.

Patterns

The orange bee did not fancy her
So, flamboyant, she departed.
But the yellow bee toured the hearth
Until the birth of dusk.
And then, with passion like a dirty desire,
She descended, iced, into the hearth.

Shall We Beget Sweet Summer Love?

Shall I beget a memoir of your fairness?
Shall I compose words about you?
Shall I beget a poem that will live through
Centuries and sculpt your history in the poem?

An E-Mail In Exchange For Misery?

An E-Mail In Exchange For Misery?

A Play Written by Glenn McCrary

Characters

Tucker: Guy who walks into café

London: Lady who Tucker is secretly attracted to

Barista: Takes Tucker’s order

Act I Scene I

Tucker enters  a local café. He reaches the front register and is immediately greeted by the barista. The barista then takes Tucker’s order.

Tucker: Hello, Stuart

Stuart: Hello, Tucker. How are you?

Tucker: Quite alright just about to attend a party. However I thought I would drop in and say hello and possibly replenish my ever decreasing energy.

Stuart: That is completely understandable.

Tucker nods his head in agreement with Stuart.

Tucker: Though enough about me now Stuart. How have you been fairing lately?

Stuart: Eh, no different than the usual sort. Apart from that I have just been working here.

Tucker: That is quite wonderful Stuart. I know you never fail to impress your superiors on a daily basis. Keep at it young sir.

Stuart: Yeah. Anyway what can I get for you Tucker?

Tucker: Oh, just a cup of water with a spot of classic syrup.

Stuart: Comin’ right up!

Stuart then goes to fetch Tucker’s water while taking more orders for customers. Two minutes later he returns with Tucker’s water.

Stuart: There you go Tucker. Have a great day man!

Tucker then exits the café. As he is leaving he spots an attractive young lady exiting the restroom. She is wearing a white tank top with khaki booty shorts. She had strawberry blonde hair with fair skin and light brown freckles along with soft, vanilla pink lips. His eyes rested upon her for a brief moment before he left.

[End Scene]

Act I Scene II

It is the next day. Tucker enters the local café and orders himself a water. He then goes to sit upon the couch to concentrate on his passion for the written word. Suddenly a young lady sits right next to him. She opens her laptop screen to continue her search for the perfect college. To Tucker’s surprise it was the very same girl that he saw yesterday. Shocked by her unannounced re-appearance he introduces himself and decides to strike up a conversation.

Tucker: Hello, My name is Tucker

Tucker extends his hand towards this lady in hope of a potential fellowship.

Returning the favor the lady decides to introduce herself as well.

London: Oh, hey my name is London. Pleased to meet you.

London briefly smiles at Tucker and then immediately returns her attention back to her laptop screen entirely.

Tucker: So me and a friend just finished seeing the latest Ice Age film.

London: Oh yeah? I heard it was good.

Tucker: And you heard right.

Tucker and London both chuckle and smile as awkward silence begins to dawn upon them.

Tucker: Speaking of films what type of films do you like? Do you have a genre of films that you prefer watching?

London: I don’t have a favorite film as I am largely diverse so I like all films ranging from tragedies to comedies. I never identify myself with only one thing.

Tucker: And that is good. I highly respect the fact that you are not limiting yourself. I admire the fact that you are willing to explore before being eclipsed by the ultimate satisfaction. Of course we as humans will never be satisfied for as long as time continues.

London: Not necessarily but I do truly believe that we as humans will eventually find what it is that will satisfy us. We just have to keep looking. Though yes I do believe that our pathetic attempts to search for what we think will satisfy us is the overall reason why we will never be satisfied.

Tucker: Well said London.

Tucker smiles stupidly to himself, opens his mouth, closes it again and then ponders on his next thought to be spoken in conversation.

Tucker: Now if you don’t mind me asking, what are your hobbies? What is your passion in life?

London: Well I have always had a passion for that of the art of theater. I’ve done a lot of Community Theater while in my teens. I also enjoy watching multiple plays. I have even acted in a few of them myself. I also am into architecture being that my parents are both architects.

Tucker: That’s quite impressive. How long has it been since you last acted in a play?

London: Gosh it has been a while. I believe the last play that I was in was back in 2009. It was a play based on The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe

Tucker: And what are some of the names of the plays that you have acted in regarding community theater as well as school plays?

London: Oh gosh I can’t even remember the names of them all but the body of work that I have done for theater is quite lengthy.

Tucker: Excellent! I find that astounding!

London: Yeah! Anyway what is your passion in life Tucker?

Tucker: Well I love to write a lot of poetry. I have self-published four books of poetry. I am currently in school studying Creative Writing & English with a specialization in Poetry. I am also starting to branch out in my field by writing plays. I am so passionate about my poetry that I have made a vow to write until death.

London: Now that’s what I call passion! I have never met a man so passionate!

Tucker and London become smitten with laughter over London’s statement.

Tucker: Well what can I say?

London: Say nothing. Let your words do all the talking. After all they are telling your story so why should you have to talk?

London then winks at Tucker in an enticing manner.

Tucker: London if you don’t mind I’d like to ask you something concerning your passion for the theater. Have you ever considered teaching theater or building film sets?

London: Yes I have considered that. I don’t know so much if I’d want to teach though but I do know a lot of friends of mine that have decided to go that route. What I’d want to do is get a career teaching theater, acting, and building sets and possibly a little marketing.

Tucker: I think that is a brilliant idea because from what I can tell, you are very intelligent and possess the drive and motivation that it takes to get to where you want to go. The reason that I suggested for you to do that is because I figured why do one thing that relates to your passion when you can do all?

London: You make a very good point, Tucker. I’ll keep that in mind.

Tucker: Good. I’m very glad to hear that. Anyways if you’ll excuse me I have a party to attend to but I shall see you when next we meet hopefully. When will I see you again?

London: Oh, you’ll see me. I’m always here so just keep your eyes peeled.

Tucker: Until next time London.

With not a word left to say, Tucker then gets up and exits the café.

[End Scene]

Act I Scene III

It is a new day. Tucker enters the café searching for London. London is nowhere within sight. Twenty minutes pass before London shows up. She is wearing a red blouse with khaki booty shorts again. This time she is with a guy.

London exits the café and stares in Tucker’s direction as she is passing through with her guy friend.

Tucker: Hey London.

London: Oh, hey Tucker how are you?

Tucker: I’m quite alright. I just decided to stop through here and relax for a couple of hours.

London: Oh, good deal.

Tucker: Yeah, is that your boyfriend?

London: I don’t know maybe…

Tucker: Oh, well you know I just thought that he might have been?

London ignores Tucker’s comments and carries on with her date. She and her guy friend choose to sit by a coffee table just behind one of the walls of the café. After about 40 minutes, Tucker decides to walk over to London and speak with her.

Tucker: London! Hey London!

London: Yes! What’s up Tucker?

Tucker: I was wondering if there was anyway that you would like to stay in contact?

London: Sure.

Tucker: Is it okay if I give you my number?

London: Yes. That’s fine.

Tucker then gives London his number.

London: Thank you very much Tucker. I’ll be sure to give you a call.

Tucker: You’re welcome and I look forward to it.

As the sun sets, Tucker exits the café.

[End Scene]

Act I Scene IV

Another day arrives. It is early evening. Tucker enters the café to find London sitting directly in front of him. She is on the phone with her friend while preoccupied by her laptop. Tucker goes to order her a water. He then decides to sit by London.

London: Hello, Tucker.

Tucker: Hello, London. I see you are on the phone with someone.

London: Yeah it is just a friend of mine. Her name is Nina.

Tucker: Oh, well that’s cool.

London: Yeah just give me a second.

Tucker: Ok.

London finishes up her conversation and then turns her attention to Tucker.

London: Ok, sorry. That was my friend. I hadn’t talked to her in a long time. I was so happy to finally be able to talk to her again. You have no idea how long it has been.

Tucker: Understandable. Is she a childhood friend?

London: No, but I have known her for quite a while.

Tucker: Very interesting!

London: By the way Tucker I wanted to show you something.

London begins typing a mysterious web address into her web address bar. She shows Tucker the website she is transferring to.

London: I remember you mentioning to me that you would like to see what plays I have been in when last we spoke. Here’s one that I was in. It was our version of The Chronicles of Narnia. This was way back in December of 2009. These are the pictures of me in the play.

Tucker: These photos are lovely and just the fact that you were in the play is excellent! You look like you had a lot of fun participating in the play.

London: I did have loads of fun. You should have been there. You would have loved it.

Tucker: This makes me wish that we could have met each other sooner.

London: I know right!

An awkward silence prevails.

Tucker: So…. about that number?

London: Oh, right! Here I’ll just give you my email address and you can just ask me for the number through there.

Tucker: That is perfectly fine.

London: Alright good. Well I’ve got to run now. My mom is coming to pick me up and she’s sort of in a hurry so I shall talk to you later. Please e-mail me sometime.

Tucker: I will.

London exits the café without another word.

[End Scene]

Act I Scene V

Tucker emails London approximately forty-eight hours later. Two weeks pass by before Tucker receives a response from London. One day Tucker wakes to a voicemail from London. Anxious to hear London’s response he plays the voicemail.

London’s voicemail: Hi! So, the computer I'd been using stopped working, and I haven't had internet access for about 2 weeks now. But, I do at the moment, so I'll check out the poem, and talk to you later.

Tucker smiles stupidly as he is equipped with a new degree of hope.

[End Scene]