Marcus Lomboy

Marcus Lomboy Poems

I don’t love you.
It’s not that I don’t. And it’s not that I can’t.
It’s because I don’t want to love you.
...

I like you...just a little bit...like this much..
And repeatedly I've come just as close to giving up..

I wear my heart on my sleeve..
...

If you're sick of the lies
I can be your doctor...
Show you what should be
and treat you proper...
...

See you walking on the side walk, give a little wink..
Then I can start the sweet talk, here's what I think..

You're a rare type of honey. Sweet and all-natural..
...

Our story started as most things do..
With time spent together, alone or not..
Years of exchanging banter with you..
In the hallways, in class, or the parking lot..
...

I can't believe I haven't figured it all out yet..
On the other hand I just figured out my outfit..
A splash of color to brighten up the bland..
Put my iPod on repeat and tune up the band..
...

You are...

Graceful, every movement seems effortless..
Resulting in this display of emotional effluence..
...

I'm looking for an escape...but I'm trying the opposite..
Looking for an entrance, at the same time try to exit it..
I'm trapped between and the doorman won't let me out..
I scream and shout, with the sense of growing doubt..
...

When I hit a roadblock, you are my escape
Unlocking the ability I always hold innate
A procrastinator at heart but I'm changing
Light my own torch for my limelight's fading
...

So here's a little a little blurb of spoken word. With no topic in mind, I put the pen down and write. Curves and circles creating letters which form so much more. From gloomy twilight skies, to sunny afternoons. I can accurately describe them all with words. But so many things are undefined. I can't even begin to describe them. Zero search results found when I Google'd the term.

And that term is love and what is is to me. But what is it really? And I come to the conclusion that an image is worth far more than a thousand words. So I place a picture of you next to a scribbled definition. But it's neither a noun, a verb, an adjective or a pronoun...it's just you and me. The pronunciation guide is a play button. A simple conversation between you and me. Engaged in romantic interlock about who loves the other more. Going back and forth until one of us gives up. Until one day we give up on the belief of you and me. That's when the wavelength starts to fade away...and so does the image of you and me.
...

Why don't you stop ushering me away?
Tell me the reason I have to pay for his mistakes..
I've finished all my film..
I just wish I could have a second take..
...

Simplicity...
It is when something is stripped
down to its very essence..
each facade removed
...

The magnitude of my feelings for you,
Yet marvelous and oh so grand..
Of a level that makes the sun seem bland..
Cannot be put into words by any Christian, Muslim or Jew.
...

If I ruled the world...
There would be no drugs, no guns in the hands of the people
Like a sequel...
Of a world war movie where the ending's all peaceful
...

They say time let's all wounds heal.
That the truth hurts but lies can kill.
So let me ask you one simple question...
Did you make me fall so hard due to cruel intentions?
...

The moment I fell in love with you, it just felt real.
Each time I would see you, my heart stood still.
And I never knew what was happening to me.
Then I discovered images of you embedding themselves inside of me.
...

This is a tale of fallen soldiers
Armies of cheese, tomatoes, pickles and onions with beef in their holsters
This is the life of a cheeseburger
A war with the buns as the armed force servers
...

I wish ~ that I could give it all away
All of these apologies ~ these clouds are turning gray
A flash of periwinkle like the twinkle in your eyes
I never meant to hurt you ~ giving you those white lies
...

Marcus Lomboy Biography

You read my poetry and look at my age, thinking I'm new to this.. News flash, I used to rhyme in ultrasound out my momma's uterus.. Scribbled several stanzas inside of her womb.. From love, to life, to my impending doom.. It's all here for your enjoyment.)

The Best Poem Of Marcus Lomboy

I Don'T Love You..

I don’t love you.
It’s not that I don’t. And it’s not that I can’t.
It’s because I don’t want to love you.

See…I refuse to let what we have be generalized into something any less specific than how we define it ourselves. How we feel about each other. How we see ourselves. And how we explain it.

Music, movies and poetry, can’t say as much as I could. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I could either. You make me feel like…some word that hasn’t even been invented yet…I’m infloveuated.

Because a made up word is the only way I can tell you how I feel. Not through this poem, not through the many I’ve written you. And not through the songs I’ve written for you…But through a word that means more than “love”. A word that hasn’t been used so many times and thrown around so casually it’s lost its true meaning.

You see…that’s exactly what’s happened to “love”. I still hold it by the same standards as William Shakespeare and Pablo Neruda. But the people like me in this world are running out. While you are incomparable.
Yet I still can’t love you.

But I’d actually say that I loved you, for the sole purpose of keeping your attention for a few minutes longer while I finish this poem.
Then maybe you’d see that I can’t really love you…Nor do I want to.

Because those who have “loved” and have “been loved” have already been through enough. They have been misused, mistreated, abused, misunderstood and ignored.
Just like the word. And just like its meaning.

Love’s been bandied about too much. From countless love songs to Hallmark cards, it’s not as personal as it used to be. It used to mean something. It used to mean you actually “loved” something. Now it just means you like it a lot.
He might “love” you. But I love banana Slurpees from 7-11. So you’re obviously equal to a frozen, artificial beverage…So what should you believe?

I don’t put faith in a single word that’s supposed to embody the deepest of human emotions. One that consists of a single syllable. So instead, I craft a picture with a thousand words.
Though not one of them say that I want to love you,

There’s no word for the bond that I want to share with you. A bond that gives me superpowers just being close to you. A bond that makes me rethink about my entire outlook on life and look at it in another way. A bond that makes me want to grow up, be mature and suit up. A bond that makes me wish that I had met you the day I was born. Because I can look back and regret every single second I’ve spent without you in my life.

I’m not talking about 007…I’m talking about a bond that makes me write down every single thing I like about you, then try to decide if I love them, or if I just like them. But I just can’t seem to finish the list. I’m talking about a bond where I know exactly what you’re thinking. A bond where I can finish your sentences…but I don’t, because the sound of your voice sets my soul on fire.
Don’t get it wrong…I don’t love you.

But I do want to be like your living, breathing diary. The one you open your heart to when you have no one else to talk to. Fill me in…fill me up with words as I let the ink sink into every crevice and every pore, and I come to understand you better than anyone else ever could.
Though I still couldn’t love you.

But I do want to be there for you. I want to be the ear you confide in, the eyes you gaze into, the hand you hold and the shoulder you cry on. But most of all, I want to be the one that puts a smile on your face.

I want to share a connection so deep, that the fathoms of my heart and my mind intertwining with yours could be bridged from across the universe. With thoughts alone, I could share with you, the most intimate conversation from across a crowded room. I want to be your BFF. So that no matter how mad we get at each other, we couldn’t stay that way for long. Then as quickly as it all started, we make up and everything would be fine again because we know each other will always be there.

But “love” won’t. It’s on life support and there’s nothing we can do to make the notion of love last longer. I think it’s time to pull the plug and restart with a whole other concept, and a whole other word. A word that means more than what “love” has devolved into.

But we could get together and recreate everything that that word was supposed to mean. Erase the undefined, yet cliché definition of it, and rewrite it ourselves with invisible ink. Because no one else needs to see it. You see, love is a whole lot like faith. And it’s a whole lot like the wind. You know it’s there, but you can’t see it. Neither can you explain it.

It’s the same way how I feel about you. And I’m pretty sure it’s not “love” I’m feeling.
Because I don’t love you…and I can’t love you. Neither do I want to.
You see…I’m already infloveuated.

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