Everywhere
in the eyes that stare
in the crisp air
in a stranger’s hair
the way he sits in a chair
in my reverie
lurking
i see you everywhere
My Poetry
Let’s Be Weak
telling someone to be strong
is like telling a building to be still in a hurricane
only the trunk
that bends to the wind
can weather the storm
don’t be afraid to watch someone crumble
don’t be afraid to be on the bottom
build yourself back up with tears of grieving
or dancing for bricks
learn to bend like bamboo
and backsides
swivel the weight around your hips
like a hula hoop
if the world is too much for your shoulders
Street Balconies Can Cry
a small breeze blows through his cerulean sweater
as he stares off into the distance
the dancing lights below
the fire escape
lean under his weight
i see him
at first he is steady, Herculean
imagining the jump
All at once he crumples into himself
like folded paper
back against the wall
he screams
burying his face as tears race
drowned out by the bustle
the pedestrians shuffle
through intersections, restless
they glide about oblivious
as just above them a man’s love dies
The bricks nick his sweater and I want to comfort him
to brush down the stray hairs with wet fingertips
it will get better
His lover peeks
out of the shadow
sneaks onto the ledge
to whisper a liar’s prayer
and hope that he isn’t there crying
i need him
they meet
words pass silently and all at once
the sad eyed blue of the brown man
stands
yelling,
from what i could tell from here,
all his heart feels
the carnal cardinal red
of the lovers
dread
hangs into his face
shading his shame
i should help end this
here
waiting
underneath the fire escape
Left Pocket
My heart le into his left pocket
a d
p e
t l
onto the floor w
and cra
Every Time
every time
i get zapped for my energy
and think i can’t
write anything
some new shit happens
&
I’m back
into my grind
trying desperately
to get rid
of my inspiration
To YHWH
why make me this way
all painted and poet brown
like black women sleeping in silk caps
praying it lays their hair flat
not born but bred
to carry the cotton sack
a touch away from the fairy tales
we tell ourselves
buried bones triple axle across a lake of frozen dreams
The way I’m is
I’ve loved left and leapt
changing my heart’s mind with the cool breeze of a whim
unable to warm my daughter’s hands
the invisible man,
whose breaths give him away in winter
I put on normalcy like a stiff cloak
to tackle the little anxieties of the day
at home, unsheathed and alone
I wonder aloud
Why I’m made this way
Smear this idea of fate
on with a thick brush
dipping in faith
to replenish the bristles
as I write the rest down
from my burning castle
Theft
I’m breaking-in to tomorrow
with the complete resolve to rob that new person blind
whoever she is
imprisons what I have always wanted
I’m busting in to the dawn of a year
and dragging her riches
back to the past
so she can remember
that I was here.
–Ariama Long
Slip In
slip in
dipping
like cold feet into
a warm bath,
dripping
hip in
digging
the bathroom
bandit
dammit
the suds have stung
my eyes
& i couldn’t see
that all the while
he was leaving me
breathing
seething
causing waves
splash back
into salted water
aquatic graves
–A. Long
Redemption
no no no
all I hear is screams
the knife, bat, and gun
then the screaming comes
thrusts to the stomach
tearing
swung to the torso
crushing
shots ring out
bloodied finger tips
touching the wounds
he leans
slowly to the side
sighing his last
the nightmares God
make them stop
I want to see heaven
not the things
I’ve done
The Comparison
Poetry crept in one night
wrapping me up in his arms
wordlessly
I said you are my inspiration
there’s no greater gathering
of you and me
than my notebook
I don’t think he believed me
He compared us to a summer’s day
Blake’s tiger
Wheatley’s forever
Sylvia Plath’s deathless nights
Hughes’ huesbluessoul
Baraka’s beat
Morrison’s ghosts
he compared me to the ones who had long since died
or the greats who had given his name over to fame
and yelled we are all alike
the users
musers
ponderers
penners
and thinkers
misunderstanding stung his eyes
so he yelled some more
until he was tired
until he hadn’t noticed that I had turned away to hide
foolishly I had always thought him mine
a secret the world couldn’t access
a feeling without present or past
the ethereal
only I could capture with my pen
thirteen years of unwavering devotion
and he’d leave
on a whim
I grated my heart on pride and lied
telling him to go if me wasn’t enough
that there was nothing more to give
not knowing if I’d live through the night
that poetry
didn’t love me right
The Poetry Corner 