What more…
I dream a dream
That will never come true
I hope a hope
That is never done
I hear the words of a song
That is never sung
& every day I die a little more
When my victory can’t be won
What more can I do
My Poetry
Question?
The real question is
Propaganda and lies
Mirror cross burning cries
On the executive Black House lawn
I sip surreptitious agenda in the morning breeze
Ponder the message it brings
Celebrate the death of those long dead
Congratulate the Head of State
?
Nah
State the nature of these endeavors
Distraction of the masses in the form of resurrection
?
Where are the photos of victims still scraping their lives off the side of the road
Vicious tornadoes
Egyptian foes refuse to let go
Japan’s nuclear blow
Forgotten Haitian and New Orleans homes
Chillean earthquakes in
Backlash of civil wars that riddle the sub-Sahara
The truth slips through the back door along with escaped slaves and hope
I’ll dine with all three
And anticipate
Tomorrow’s already written news report
WMD’s
Kisses my cheek with such harmony
That I can’t speak
Cool and explosive
Licking the hair away from my face
As I grip the steering wheel and steer
Deeper into the rhythm
The sound resonates
Vibrates down my column
I cant think
You touch me and my thoughts strap suicide bombs to their chest
You kiss me
And they sit in the middle of brain,
quietly about to detonate
Italia
The roar of the train as it passes through what can only be classified
as mountains carried by Gods. They are beautiful
like huge bleeding rocks covered with thick layers of everest trees
that suddenly drop into clear sparkling river beds
as water runs over white and gray stones
I Saw You
I saw you
In a lilac grove of streets
Catacomb of buses
Comings and goings
Heres and theres
I thought about you as I paid my fare
Fairly certain of the where I was
And had been
Since you happened
I bare more of
Myself than I care to bear
I saw you
Sitting with kings
In my dreams
Spitting gold, telling them all there is to know
I saw your shadow
Old and gray
Bask in the presence of a thousand laughs
Surrounded by family
I saw you
Seeing me
That shit was deep
Deeper than anything I can conceive
Of accurately without explicative
Nervous, you know
I curse the day I discovered language was not enough
I knew
How to say whatever I wanted in poetry
Then I saw you
Lavender
Bend into each other
Trees stretching towards the sun
Wanting. That is always and forever.
To be curled up
Fetal
And endlessly warm. Underneath it all
Lies heat
Strong and sweet
Herbed lavender sweat
Sleep.
Hunted
My black is silent as the core of an iris
is dark as an obsidian gem
My black is night
We move through it with ease
the woman with groceries didn’t hear our paw padded sneakers creep on the concrete behind her
We are hunters
The red heart beat flashes blood as we run, tracking mis-deedful prints
I dodge black bodies swinging in my night
jump fenced hurdles
while some turn and fight
refusing to become the hunted
We unload barks that reach to the moon, resonate through people’s bedrooms, and shatter darkened windows
My claws grip the bricks as I maneuver past them
down an alleyway
into the corner
keeping low
and to the shadows, comfortable like warm pillows
I am a… lone, quiet and antsy
listening to the sound of my night stained by blood and rain
I whimper to mother moon
Save me from this city
She doesn’t hear me?
Return to the prowl hungry
from unanswered howls.
Poetry Is
Sepulcher of negative images
And bad ambitions
Shut, locked
And burned
Releasing me from a world
Bent on dragging my
Self-esteem
Over a bed of jagged red, hot nails
A tool for my boundless dreams
Ripped from he seams
Of my imagination
Thrust onto the human race
So they can understand and feel
Liberation
The flow within me
Bled onto the words
Of which I speak
Enticing, spellbinding
Vocabulary
Grinding into the black hole
That is your mind
The sign of eternal literature
Giving a voice to those
Who are afraid to converse
With the devils of the deadly sins
And overcome them
Expelling the snakes with the tongue
For it’s mightier than the sword and gun
Emancipation
Freedom
Publication
Is
Poetry
Waiting in Vain
I’m torn between holding on and letting go
selfish self-preservation is a main goal
but I’m scared to receive that one phone call
informing me that she’s gone
missing
one of my sisters, a cousin I haven’t talked to in years
It happened
Not to be nostalgic
but I remember how our ridiculous matching
indian prom dresses caused such a commotion
I found yours in the back of my closet
picture perfect
the anticipation of the high school crew disbanding for college studies
our lives at the tip of a new beginning
Time keeps moving her away, ripped like the pages of our friendship
Guilt motivates the guilty
as she
weighs down steps to purchase dime bags
laced with notoriety
the plight of bouncing through foster homes like basketballs
with substitute parents black as asphalt
Even now I can hear her clattering call
ring through the halls
I’m somewhere between
a past and current status of an aged friendship
tossed by life’s tests
We all need a helping hand
and maybe our paths will converge again
even though I can’t stand in the middle of the road
waiting in vain
for her to come home
The Intro
The Intro
Hi.
Your name is Chocolate
the sweet underside of your Father’s thighs
the resonant color trapped in his eyes
your his laugh
cradled in a blue blanket
his words etched on the finest parts of your DNA
Lullabies sung from ancient Sanskrit he sang to you
while you were in the womb
but more importantly
you are everything he’s not
I apologize for the worry lines
that will plague your eyes
From the cries he will not hear
The hugs he’ll miss
Your name is Strong, spirit
that will not be broken
like the canvas on your Father’s stomach
or the pride across his wide back.
The Poetry Corner 