Monthly Archives: June 2013

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. 

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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

This Great Wound

Nothing I can say
can cauterize
this great wound

but I try my best
because there’s
nothing else I can do

she takes guesses
at how many days
her Mother has left

thinking each short visit
with her
will be the last

I tell her not to worry
to take
all the time she needs

but she feels guilty
taking time away
from nuclear family

how differently would we live
our lives
if we knew our expiration date?

would you even want to know?

could be a bus
could be a bullet
could be a stroke
a heart attack
could be a tornado
a fire
could be a ton of crumpled steel
a soul sound asleep
could be a curse called cancer

we live in uncertain
times
unsure to be alive

do we have it in us
to love one another
with every muscle’s pump

forgiveness
acceptance
the act of letting go

do we have these things
inside us?
before we turn our insides out

I pray
I’m not buried
with hate

bitter taste

or any other pain

and although no flame
can cauterize
this wound

I want to say I did my best
and reassure her
she did the same

because it’s not worth it
to hold on
to these chains.

-For Tami, for Melinda, for me, for you.-