the Tinman’s Penitentiary

Rather you believe it or not, I could never write this poem…I needed this poem to make it right
Only could it take control

and condense my will into a cylinder of ink within

and use a pen to display all my flaws

and with white out make corrections as it sees fit

but don’t get it twisted

God don’t make any mistakes

but

I’m far from perfect

As a matter of fact,

I’m an imperfectionisthuman nature at its best

but not my excuse.

Because the fact is…

self

preservation is a survival instinct

and

sometimes I can be a little selfish, 

Just like trapped coyotes,

I will chew through my bone to be alone.

I poisoned illusions of monogamy with confusion,and produced the artificial sweetener.

 The only way I knew how to cope

Was by sugar coating the half filled cups of optimism that I share occasionally

with women.

 

And sharing those cups only gave them my venom and germs

but I hoped they wouldn’t catch my cold.

It’ll give headaches and chest congestions from them stressing on which medicine would work best, but …

The only vaccine

is deep down inside of me,

but my white blood cells attack any and everyone that tries to get close to me.

 

Sweetheart, I pray to God for you,

but I’m sorry, they show no mercy.

I ain’t the coldest winter ever,

but sister,

you going to need space heaters, shelter, and thick skin.

 

My heart,

where love lived,

has been condemned,

and this last of the gentlemen’s past is no longer living,

as a result,

I’ve started loving through a path of destruction.

 

I apologize for the lies

Or that I didn’t try,

the women I’ve corrupted,

tell their children, sisters, friends, and mothers, they shouldn’t have had to suffer.

 

I didn’t do everything right,

but know I love them,

but beggars can’t be choosers,

and it seems I was begging destiny

to not choose them.

 

My thinking will reduce them

and affection will lose them…intentionally,

and that is abandonment.

Neglect to the third degree

And to me, they are only victims of circumstances

and I can plead the fifth,

but even I know I’m guilty.

 

My guilty conscious sentenced me to emotional solitary confinement

in my body,

the tin mans penitentiary,

be reintroduced to the new cool hand Luke

I have attempted too many times, but still haven’t escaped

All the conjugal visits from women ain’t going to set me free

I’m like all convicts

I find redemption in apologies.

I’m sincerely sorry

to those who I’ve left without closure and heartache…

 

but it had nothing to do with you

this is my yellow brick road

a long stroll by me…an ice cold soul,

who has been standing at this fork in the road for years.

 

So, I left wrong to make it right

don’t let this loner make you lonely,

the rest of your life baby.

Close your eyes and dance freely with some fine gentleman

and in some cases a lovely lady,

and if love doesn’t seem to work for you,

just be patient because that heffa is just lazy…

 

She doesn’t want to work

but she will and pay off

and once you take a day off

and just let it…then it will.

 

It WILL…give you closure,

joy, and bring you a step closer,

So you can call one last time.

Just to tell me that you are happy

and that it is STILL…hope for me…a loner

that sits in the tin man’s penitentiary.

 

And like I said before…

Rather you believe it or not, I could never write this poem…I needed this poem to make things right
Only could it take control

and condense my will into a cylinder of ink within

and use a pen to display all my flaws

and with white out make corrections as it sees fit

but don’t get it twisted

God don’t make any mistakes

but

I’m far from perfect

.

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2 thoughts on “the Tinman’s Penitentiary

  1. “ICE COLD!!!” 😉
    An amazing read, very gentleman like. I love the way you engulf me with your words and make me commentate a “Mmmm”. I hope this ‘made it right’ cause the ‘TinMan’ bled from a cut deep within all on the yellow brick road.
    From one imperfectionisthuman to another, I pray you’re freed to find ‘The Wiz’ before you run out of oil and “die”man.

  2. I waiting on the day that you’ll cease to amaze me but ironically I don’t think that day will ever come. Your words paint pictures that would put Picasso to shame. Still waiting on this book sir 😉

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