The Most Selfish I Love You Poem Ever

June 15, 2013

Johnathan Tillman Uncategorized , , , , Leave a comment

I love you.
Because I do.
That should be the end of this poem.
Due to my overwhelmingly large ego
It isn’t
I must be self-centered and list all reasons behind this selfless feeling towards you.

When we first met
I said “Amen.”
The God in your stare showed me what it looks like when He answers prayer.
Though I held your gaze like the peace of witnesses at our wedding,
Since I spoke now, forever looks much better.
That should be the end of the poem.

I love you
Because we spend time together.
I know now how I’d be when walking with angels in Heaven since I have my own.
I saved your feather
And penned this poem letter by letter
Being with you is similar to Moses writing Genesis
There was no scripture before you
All my faith is placed in you
I live to be with you until you show me your home.
Thank you for agreeing to be imperfect so you were perfect for me.
As gratitude for your grace.
Place your aches in my arms
And I will carry you over any threshold of pain.
That should be the end of the poem.

I love you.
Because when the world knocked me down to a knee,
You were there for me to propose to.
My soul opened like engagement ring boxes
Revealing a diamond made specifically for your hand.
That’s the finger I’m wrapped around.
I want you happy every day
As happy you make me knowing you memorized my flaws
And still say,
“I love you anyway.”
That should be the end of the poem.

I love you
Because my heart wrote vows for the matrimony in your smile.
Your lips are dearly beloved.
The first kiss began the ceremony for us to be whisked away in marital bliss.
Your skin feels like consumation.
Your skirt lifted like veil
I may now kiss the bride.
My fingers hurdled your spine like the broom
The bed became a tomb
Your neck became a calendar
I bit notes into it like thumbtacks
My back became our headstone
You sculpted anniversaries across my shoulders.
The refuge of my children is housed between your hips.
Our bodies knock like church bells
Pulses in our organs vibrated to “Here Comes The Bride”
Your orgasm tasted like our wedding cake.
Death won’t part us for when I roll over in my grave,
I will always see your face.

When we face each other at the altar
Reciting in synonymous monologue how unconditional our bond
When it’s my turn to say why
Selfishly, I’ll reply
I love you
Because I do.
That should be the end of the poem.

John(athan) 3:16

June 3, 2013

Johnathan Tillman Uncategorized , , , , 1 Comment

No one showed God how to parent a boy
But His child turned out okay.
Here I am, cradling Genesis 1:1
A light never before seen in my Universe
And I am scared.
My divinity stops at creation.

With no examples to study
He nurtured a Savior
I sit in prayer
Yearning to be taught how to raise the Messiah of my life.

You,
Whose pupils sing gospels.
Whose irises envelop them to learn like apostles
In you, there is testament anew.
With where we are in our story, I’m still unsure what next to do
I have questions that remain present until we get to Revelations.

How do I love in a way I’ve never been loved?
Do I take from what I have and mold it into faith?
I need to ask God for the formula to agape
So you never worry about the emptiness not possessing it creates.

The sins of my father stop here.
Even with the fear of failing you thumping between my ears,
And the years of distance between Sun and Heaven
I will not let them keep me from loving you.

From being there.
Actively.
Not because I have to be.
Or to prove that some Black men do take care of their children, actually.
I am here because providing for you was born from love since the day the night’s womb said, “Let there be light.”
Giving me the title of Daddy.

I will not rest
Not even on the seventh
Take me Sabbaths and exchange them for blessings you will need when the world nails you to the cross.
I know not what they will do,
But I will be there to make sure your cup isn’t always so full.

I’m not quite the Almighty
My scripture reads a little differently
For I so love my only begotten son that I gave him the world
Though my father never did the same for me.

Interpretive (Exotic) Dance

May 29, 2013

Johnathan Tillman Uncategorized , , , , Leave a comment

Excuse me,
Miss?
I know the opening is kinda token
Take it as payment for my appreciation

Normally, I’d introduce
But…
But…
I’ve kinda seen you naked before

Performing on that stage with your form of art,
You channeled Ms. Angelou’s phrase
“Everything has rhythm; everything dances.”
Watching curtains raise
Your ballet-influenced sways
You became a metaphor.
Stripping never looked so enchanting.
Disrobing piece by piece,
Until I knew everything you wanted me to fantasize.
Dammit, I was hypnotized.

Visualized myself between your thighs
Like meanings in lines
I wanted to see how your body glows in its natural light.
Where the dark side of the moon is jealous of its other side
Because though it never sees you, it knows what you feel like

Gazing upon you bare
Made me want to share in that moment
Where you disrobe your ego by the shoulder strap
Then pull down the satin covering your heart
Give me access to the practice of unveiling who you are
You use to prepare to undress for an audience.

Teach me how you write steps to impulses
I want to watch you learn the choreography of your perspective
Removing those articles of fabric
Rehearsing personal interpretation of exotic dancing.

Let’s go skinny dipping in ink jars.
Dive off the tip of the pen
Take our insecurities through a synchronized swim
Then dry off on the same page.

I want to waltz in a downpour of our tears
Smiling and stepping in cadence to the verses you let me near
Tango with similes until all your poems are like nudity
Only the mature can be allowed to watch you perform on stage.

Stripping never looked so enchanting
While reciting your poetry, naked for all to hear,
You give tempo to fear
Because everything has rhythm; everything dances.

(Re)Remembering

May 17, 2013

Johnathan Tillman Uncategorized , , , , Leave a comment

(Fragmented, a little. Written while resting under a tree on Constitution Avenue. There may end up being more to this.)

Our souls were so ancient
That we prove love will never succumb to Alzheimer’s
I stitched those synapses with the stems of forget-me-nots
Within memory’s grasp
Far enough from its touch
But right there on the tip of my tongue

Mouth fixed because it remembers enunciation
Voice hopes hands caress it
Or put it out its misery
Your name makes my saliva taste like cotton
And burns like fresh chamomile tea.
But the more sips taken
You ease my asphyxiation.
Soothing
But tough to swallow
Maybe we need to cool down
I’ll blow my lips over the stea
And try again later.

5-13-13 Freewrite

May 13, 2013

Johnathan Tillman Uncategorized , , , Leave a comment

(Ten minutes.)

Five years ago
I had everything your voice ever was recorded on.
Electronically.
It seemed easier to keep up with the collection.
Then, losing it all with one wrong button,
I felt the needle spinning itself around my heart.

You embedded in me like vinyl scratches.
Tattoo your notes along the creases of my soul.
My pulse marches to 3/4 time
It relates to Birds Flying High.
Sing to me
Though you never knew me.
Technology selfishly withheld your treasure once it realized how special “Mississippi Goddamn” is.

Hearing you is nothing more than pressing play
You changed my spirit with every turn of the disc
Each listen, another revolution to alter who I am.
Sometimes feeling devoid of apparent guidance
You sung faith into this sinnerman.

Thank you.

God, Part Three

April 16, 2013

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(Editor’s Note: this is the third time I’ve written of my conversations with Him.)

Ay, Man
Uh, You know what I mean.
Here we are again.
As You know, I’m Johnathan
A long-tenured member
We’ve had a couple conversations awhile ago
I’m sure You remember.
I’ve returned with more grievances.
Paramount of them is:
What’s with the condemnation that plagues my soul?

I live as if I’m at my last day
But with my fate already paved to calamity up ahead.
When I ask for guidance and sympathy when I pray
You know and won’t tell.
I gotta say,
I’m not too fond of this one-sided secrecy.

Why do I have to feed Your omniscence
If You won’t ease the tremors in my mind?
Whose ego needs to be checked?
You know I’m approaching you with all due respect
But I just need to know how I can get odds on my side.

In which woman’s soul does Lady Luck reside?
So I can go apologize
Because I’m sick of rolling through life with snake eyes

I need to get the Devil out of my sight.
But it seems contacting You is like shooting craps
And I can never seem to hit Your number
All seven of them.
Now I got you.
I tell You,
If it isn’t one thing, it’s another
You or Your staff make countless blunders.
You are in charge.
Answer me this:
Which angel left my brother?
I want him fired.
That has absolutely nothing to do with our discussion.
But since I have Your ear
I think You should hear all the grievances to better be able to restore faith in Your loyal customer.

I’m sick of being told to hold on.
Of waiting on the automated tone to tell me which option to press.
Don’t You fucking categorize my requests.

Excuse my language.

I am trying to be patient
But You are close to losing one
This is an emergency
Since I can’t seem to schedule a surgery
This blessing is pertinent and I’m forced to wait.

My heart needs an operation
It’s so clogged
I brought it to the altar
Don’t let it die on this table

Remove the scarred tissue
Resolve all my issues
I just want to be free.
See the future as blissful
Not an execution date.
I’m not expecting You to say the exact itinerary of my tomorrows.
But help me quit wallowing in yesterdays
And fix the place doubt hollowed
Fill it with hope.
Hope that I can profit from the dice in my hand.

God.
I just want to understand
Since I know that You can
Help me believe that though I don’t
You’ll help because You give a damn.
And will take this damned feeling away.
In Your name I pray,
Ay, man.
You know what I mean.

Impossible Love

April 14, 2013

Johnathan Tillman Uncategorized 4 Comments

Don’t come any closer.
It’s too dangerous
I would rather you be saved
If I am unable to save us.

How do you love the doomed?
I asked God for a guide
But even He recognizes those sinners He cherishes will eventually die
So what’s a human to do?
What is it about you, that
When looking at the divine in your care,
I see apocalyptic revelations in your stare?
The angel there is blowing the horn, calling for the holy.
And no matter how much adoration your soul shows me,
I won’t be going.

Please
Stop looking for ways for us to stay joined
Not that love is impossible
But that at some point,
It’ll be impossible to love me.

I’m asking you to stop loving me
And the reason why is because I need you to trust me.
Distance from the Sun in me
Though my heat for you is smoldering,
It burns as supernova
But when that heat is extinguished
After the massive explosion
I collapse into myself
A black hole of selfishness
Who takes all light as my own and emit none.
Even heavenly glow
Before I drag you to Hell with me,
Go.

Reach your hand towards salvation
Instead of trying to catch this falling star.
As noble as you are,
You need to leave me to my demise.
For your own safety,
This is Goodbye.

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