The Pursuit Of
we real cool
we beat slow
mellow flow hold
the fluidity at a
decibel of a syllable
go
vent
we street meat
in the belly
we brew steady heavy
live accents &
accidents
My Poetry
No Dash Needed
I am not African-American
there’s no dash needed
if anything
I am
a native spook who sat by the door
listening for opportunity,
devout in my non
ever
shifting
identity
making lemonade.
I am
I am mine & mine only
I am mine & mine only
I am mine & mine only
I am mine & mine only
I am mine & mine only
I am mines & mines only
I am mine & mine only
I am mine & mine only
I am mines & mines only
I am mine & mine only
It’s okay, I won’t let you
fall again.
She held her close
this little piece of herself.
Self Evident
It’s not so much the truth that bothers
Truths like lies
can sometimes shift
so whether they’re spat or whispered
they’ll always unfold
It’s the lying that kicks up the brick dust
The you can lie to them, we all do it
We’re all a them to someone
Where honesty hung off the tongue ready to dive
there’s only omission
a clean unwillingness
to break down and be an outright liar
Cowardly, feverish, but ready
my truth will lay in wait in trenches of jowls
Let the world have it
when necessary
when commanded
until then
Fuck’em my shit is self evident
The Hughes
Do men dream in the same way that women do?
Do they cradle a dream to their chest, minding its head as if it’s fragile neck would snap?
Do black men dream big?
Do brown?
Men hold fast to so many things,
But dreams?
Or at least I can’t imagine many of them knowing what it feels like to have a dream
Hold you back
To say,
I will never leave you
No matter how hard the future gets
That we will make it through and survive this thing called life,
Together.
So, deferred, what is it that becomes of them? They build or preach or teach. Men may accept a lesser reality, a shallow dream that isn’t sweet enough to satisfy anyone. A sliver at a time they accept the life they have come to live, and, every once in awhile, learn to silence the hope that builds up in their chest
-excerpt poem from my book in progress called ‘A Man Deferred’. Let us know what you think!
Stand Off
Behind these great walls
we tumble
painted ladies frame the fences
watch them crumble
their faces
cracked open by time
the wind, breathing in and out
bright bricks fall
they hit us hard
we don’t dodge the drops
we stand steady
yelling each other’s names
numb
loving all the way down
beneath the wreckage
and bone
-A. Long
Manifest Destiny
The headphones drown out the cries of the hungry as the train rages on like a metallic dragon. She is pretty. The homeless chick. Her voice booms even with the music turned up in my ears, leading me to believe she is well practiced in this art.
Come, Time
Come,
time to put away childish things
emotions strewn about the floor
pick em up
shove em into your toy chest
let them rest away
where those who won’t break them
will scoop them up to play
by A. Long
Going Back
I am going back to her
to compare battle scars and sip
double dipped hot chocolate
To rekindle her light
I’m going back to her
yellow princess dresses
black boots, made for stomping
when she was all kinky tresses
To her questions, wonder, and guesses
To when she loved without prejudice
before any man had come between us
Wanting
wanting to mend
that’s all I have at the end of the day
digging a dent
into my side of the bed
wanting to want to
but never leaving
The Poetry Corner 