Suffer

Seeing her
suffer,
I suffer

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The Man Inside

I don’t know
what to feel.
what to say.
what to write.

I feel numb.
yet I know
the tears
will come.

when? idontknow.
what to do.
what to think.
what to believe.

they will come.
the dam
of my tough
exterior
bursting open
to reveal
the man
inside.

they will come.
the floodgates
of my composed
facade
exploding
into
rivulets
across my
sandpaper
cheeks.

they will come.
ice thawing
in a heat
wave
of
unequivocal
out-
pouring.

evaporating.
resurrecting
in
a thunder
clap.

when? I. don’t. know.
& that’s enough.

Death

Death, the opposite
of birth;
Death, the closing of
the loop;
Death, a pact made with a
faceless omnipotent,
signed with the blood from
a mother’s aching womb;
Death, a warm hand held
on the most pleasant of spring days,
turned to cold bone,
turned to ash inside an urn;
Death, caress, a kiss from
the sweetest, softest lips;
Death of the reddest rose
with the sharpest of thorns;
Death, an exit
when ends seem to elude;
Death, an answer to a question
we never understood;
insane, expecting different outcomes
try, try, try as we might
Death is the only thing
the living can’t ignore;
Death, an umbilical fuse
lit with newborn lungs

 

Written for dVerse Poets Pub’s Anaphora poetry prompt

ill prepared

i had a dream
i was at a poetry slam

i forgot to sign up,
so i was
eating my words

i was literally
eating chalk

some chick
was asking
about my new book
but i didn’t
bring any copies

not even one
to read from

i was ill prepared

then i saw
Saul Williams
sitting in the back
he read a poem
like it was nothing,
like he was there at every
slam, no big deal

i approached him
after the slam
and i bowed to him
because his words
give me goosebumps
every. single. time.

and he was smiling
& humble

and then i woke up,
pissed
coz i couldn’t read
my stuff

so ill prepared
in dreams,
i hope i have my
shit together
in waking life

Debeaked

i wanted to impress her
with the first
words that came to mind

but they weren’t good
enough
or even worth a damn

affectations,
a kiss blown
to the wind

i
am
not
trying
hard enough

i
am
not

listening
to the words,
butterflies
from her plum-tree
lips

i don’t even
watch
them fly
from her
mouth
and land
in the ether
in brilliant
cursive,

spilling upon
someone
else’s love letter

what am i
but absorbed
in tocks
upon
my selfish
clock

a cock
ready to fight
for his own
pretty colors,

beak is clipped

nothing worth
a damn
to say

all pretty colors
and pecking
at
windows

Lungs Wish

death is slow

and we complain
of long days
& fast sunsets

of brilliant pinks
& reds

a slow death
for this life
we’ve been granted

live it to your fullest

you can’t speed it up
no matter how hard
your lungs wish

the trees,
a living
testament

they all bend one way

a slow ride
to the other side

the slowest,
lowest
gear

and when it finally comes

it will be so sweet

the sweetest taste
to ever meet
your lips

Tangible

Drunk on his
aftershave
such a subtle
aftertaste

she’s wasted
on memories
of his
sandpaper face

it brings her
to another place
in
time

when reason rhymed

when it
did not
hurt
to day-to-day

when she
did not
have
to look for paste

to glue his
trace
into
something once

tangible

Someone Else>s Sins

It’s not right,
this lot in life
you get what you get,
only so much fight

I’m fed up
with this karmic retribution,
this bullshit sorry solution

fuck these clichés
of good people
and bad things

I want a way out,
one with
a decent health plan

where we can
abandon trivial tripe
and everything that ails

but this is fiction
I am spitting

there are no pearly gates
there are no 72 virgins

just whores,
this life will
eat you alive

I want to go to sleep
and grant us all life

but I am not a martyr

yet we somehow seem to die
for someone else’s sins