May 13, 2012
Uncategorized Introspective, Mother's Day, Poetry Leave a comment
My mother threw me off a cliff.
She dropped me off the face of the earth like a tear down the Africa of her cheek.
It was an oasis fleeing from the Sahara in her eyes.
Deserted.
Never had being close to the reason why I’m alive felt like slow death.
The heat and loneliness while searching for a place to land mocked me with each step.
Any offered help was dismissed as a mirage.
And the gravity of distance became so presence since her pull was gone.
My mother threw me off a cliff.
She launched me into space as if she wanted an extra satellite.
I obliged.
No words.
Just an understanding to be who I am.
And instead of looking for somewhere to stand,
I learned to fly and wield the galaxy in my hand
That heat and loneliness was from within
So I spread my wings
Became the Sun
And I’ve been shining ever since.
April 15, 2012
Uncategorized Love Joints, National Poetry Month, Poetry 1 Comment
I cut you.
Deep.
Too deep.
That initial incision into your side was too much,
And
It was an accident.
Except that it wasn’t.
Rather than being careful to follow our instructions,
I rushed it.
Now we’re both stuck, wondering:
What do we do with this?
It’s not too late to fix
Is it?
Surely the whole project isn’t ruined because of one overanxious snip.
It’s fine.
After the initial slip-up with the scissors,
Maybe our project needs to start from a different direction.
I won’t say there’s nothing wrong.
But to say this is finished when we’ve just begun is a bit of a stretch.
Let’s step back and think for a second.
How can I convince imperfection it doesn’t exist?
Where in the how-to is the section: “What To Do When You Taint Your Subject’s Value?”
If art has no mistake,
Then the error I just made should mark the beginning of a new era in my ways.
I don’t want another sheet of paper.
And you don’t want the shame of being taped.
So, instead of folding you over in defeat,
Let’s keep folding until we make our first piece in a series of origami shapes.
We didn’t turn something into nothing.
Art is turning something into something beautiful through imagination.
So how do you know this is ruined?
How do you know we’re through,
When cutting isn’t the only craft we can do?
Let’s just think a little harder
I’ll be a little smarter
So you can be more confident in my artistic ability.
That way, the piece we make will be so adored
That the cut I made won’t be visible.
April 11, 2012
Uncategorized bravado, National Poetry Month, Poetry, Sexual Leave a comment
Look.
You want it
I know you want it.
And I understand you not wanting to feel rushed.
So it’s my duty to turn lust into trust.
I don’t need drugs.
You have the kind of addiction I can feed.
I can take what you want and make it what you need
And I’ll penetrate your body and mind
You’ll love the way I speak.
Once I’m inside, you’ll be saying…
“He’s so deep.”
You’re going to wipe the inhibition from your lips.
And I can already see the signs that your guard has begun to drip.
But if you think this is more than what it is,
Then you’ve got to get a grip.
Love’s not on the menu, so don’t front like we’re about to make it.
We’re going to feast on the lust that we’ve created.
Maybe as we grow, love will become the goal
But at the moment, we’re just trying to get naked.
I’ll treat you like a queen.
Give you all the finer emotional things that come with love except the wrapping.
We’ll be all over each other, and be labeled as lovers,
But dropping that “r” ain’t a part of the package.
This is some kind of magic.
But I damn sure ain’t a genie.
Your wish turns into my command,
And abra-fucking-cadabra
Everything happens before your eyes
Yet when you look in the mirror,
You’ll see I don’t have anything to hide.
No tricks.
What appears is what you get.
No illusion.
No delusion.
Just space to turn doubt into yes.
Do you accept?
April 8, 2012
Uncategorized Introspective, National Poetry Month, persona, Poetry 1 Comment
Dear Johnathan,
I’ve bled for too long.
The fact that I’m still able to beat
With this wound inside me
Proves that you underestimate how strong I can be.
That’s why I’m always aching.
You’re so concerned with me breaking
That you imagine so much more hurt
I keep knocking on your sternum
To let you know I’m damaged, not dead
When will you learn that fear isn’t here with me but all in your head?
It’s time for us to heal, my friend.
It’s time for you to realize that though there’s a lot for you to carry on your shoulders–
And it will put pressure on my aorta–
You better not cast that weight aside and wait for life to be over.
Stop worrying about the clock.
I have plenty of valuable ticks.
And whenever I see you content to watch
It makes me sick.
Your doubt is the scab across me that continues to be picked.
Let go.
Trust me, you have all you need in your chest
That’s why people hear my rhythm with every word that escapes your breath.
I’m not saying I’m the best heart ever created
But I’m a good one and you know it
Think about this:
You and I aren’t totally in sync,
Yet look at how many people have gravitated.
They appreciate you.
I do too.
Now I need you to believe in us
So we can become a brilliantly cut gem once we close this wound.
Sincerely, your heart.
P.S. I love you.
That’s my favorite part of the job.
