Tag: blogger

Signed__________

Formless and empty am I
soft to a fathers touch
cool liquid moving throughout my being wrapped tightly around,
feet tucked underneath me stretching for miles around.
formless and empty am I,
formless and empty was I,
before you perverted my ground,
before feet touched down inside my heart,
before outstretched arms tore my world apart.
because formless and empty was I,
alone,
sitting perfectly next to myself,
but not alone,
not
with myself but with my father
providing a kind of intimacy for the trees and for the grass and for the animals
for my father’s creation
for his obedient creation I sat peacefully,
and then you came,
you came and perverted my ground
until now silent screams scream for my non-existence
confused minds await the day in which I will exist no more
silly minds unable 2 fathom that I cannot cease 2 exist no more
for I will be shaken, tossed and moved, but I cannot cease 2 exist no more
still, the sign of my demise many pray for
and I’m sorry,
but I cannot accept your apology,
no Band-Aid will release such pain from swollen sores.
because you see my waters,
my waters are poison
and my ground is dull
my air is not even pure anymore!
woe to my fathers’ children who were once able to dance and shout inside of me
but because of your perversion they cannot beat inside of me!
I cannot nourish them,
sing happy songs that will comfort them
In the wind, blowing ever so softly
the wind,
my breath upon their lifeless cheeks
pretentious joy from half dead leafs and waters that fill with blood
now leaks
sadness,
and with sadness they look up to me
but they cannot do it
they cannot respect me because you worshipped me
you bowed down to the created instead of the creator
and left your filth on my body as residue of this relation
coughing,
I can still smell the gun smoke,
from your many wars.
and I apologize,
for I cannot forgive what you’ve done to me
what you’ve made me out to be
when you raped me of this virginity,
and left blood in precious dirt
I dedicate this letter to you men

Signed, The Planet Earth

The Beautiful Sky

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Have you ever walked outside at dusk and noticed all the colors in the sky? The way the moon just bleeds crimson bright; splashes of daylight prophesying hints of yellow like screaming oracles, and burnt orange autumns that cements itself inside the belly of the sky. The way that birds defy the darkness to find refuge in the path of light, soaring on the backs of indigo clouds or beige highlights swinging low like sweet chariots. Even the wind rejoices in the shadows of the moonlight bouncing off the concrete. As for me, I can’t take my eyes off the sky. I wish only to pull up a chair, dip my hands into a bowl of moon; sip it slow like a glass of Sauvignon on Saturday night when my resting has come to an end; let it fill my empty; turn my distress into dancing.

His Birth Pains

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There’s a woman
laying in the hospital
and armed with the next generation in her womb,
and she’s about to give birth real soon
she breathes
in another breath as her body jerks,
to the sound of the television… it is the news.
reporting another mass murder of black men
he moves
inside of her
tucking his head underneath his soft bones
she moans
at another kick
to her ribs
his tiny fingers have just curled around them
holding her insides with the delicate force of a newborn
he hesitates “This is it.”
The end of nine months only to see another nine years
of bars
he fears
this new place
leaving no more space
for his body to stretch out
than his face
pressed tightly against
the skin of his mother’s uterus.
Of this new world he thought he’d be curious
but the sounds of the outside has only made him furious
the sounds of police in the distance
kicking,
he kicks again this is resistance
forcing the woman into painful sensations
but he kicks
constantly
cause this is not an invitation to leave
it is a plea to stay
“Don’t worry lil man”, the doctor says, “Mama’s just a lil tense,
but he shutters at homelessness
debating to himself if to pass up his first breath is worth it
his ground iron
his heavens bronze
his prayers polluted like falling stars
trying to break lose what’s already bent
rocking his mother’s body once more
this can’t be heaven sent
but
it’s too late
something has pushed him out of his place
and its holding him tightly,
his screams echo, “let go of me.”
but he has already lost his authority
and he doesn’t even know his name
and these are just the beginning
of his birth pains.

Being “Grown”

I was in the Dollar Store today and the cashier was an excited 21 year old. “I’m grown“, she boasted. “I pay my own bills and don’t need for nothing.” That sparked a thought:

Don’t be in such a hurry to talk about how “grown” you are because there’s a difference between “being grown” and being an adult. Grown people are those who have reached an age level that gives them permission to buy liquor, finally get into the clubs (legally), and buy cigarettes. Grown people usually boast about paying their own bills, driving their own cars, and not having to overall depend on anyone else financially. They just moved out the house yesterday and already they’re ready for the world. Adults however are those who do not have to keep reminding everyone how grown they are. They may or may not depend on someone else financially, may or may not pay their own bills. That’s because the level of their maturity is not based on such futility, but adults are people whose mentality is beyond the mind of a child. If you are well off financially that’s great, but it is not what defines adulthood. Not throwing stones, just something to think about the next time you have to tell someone how grown you are, which in the case you have to say it, you probably aren’t.

Disconnect

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Common Sense has now been down-graded
on a scale of OMG, I’m LMBO,
I can’t hear the sound of laughing my butt off!
can’t tell if my voice is hard or soft
where
have all the people gone?
Real
players must have given it a new definition
because I can’t hear the sound of my own voice, can’t find the emotion because sounds
have been replaced
with dashboards and megabyte space
My space
has been invaded
can take words back as if I didn’t mean to say it
back spacing the profane
though it’s not my heart speaking
At least the internet will stop it from Wiki-leaking
You know I’ve never had any friends but maybe if I stick my social neck out far enough I can work it
Birds and butterflies have too been affected by twitter
caught somewhere between .com’s and world-wide nets
Negativity has now been filtered
And instagram has replaced the big dipper
I don’t know what stars look like, but at least I can add them as a friend and pretend I know what their life is
like
me
though you hate me
So you see, sometimes I just feel disconnected
Because reality has become TV
my fist is in a frenzy
but don’t worry, I’ll scan you images of my fingers so you can feel me
Because someone pulled the plug on reality
and my family can’t contact me
because I haven’t been added yet
blue screen
virus
Disconnect
Me from sensitivity
I’m sitting right next to you
but I don’t have a touch screen so maybe I’ll go somewhere else and Google Play
You see I’ve always been in love with words
and obsessed with books
but I’m going out of business
because it’s already on Facebook
books
have been replaced
with ROFL, NP…and something else but I don’t have enough space left on this computer cause he’s too busy trying to type
write her
I love you…
though I can’t look into your eyes and I have no idea the structure of your face but
semi-colon
smiley face

I can’t
see
I can’t
smell
I can’t
taste
I don’t know how to write because my senses are out of touch
screen
my heart and e-mail it to you
tube my eyes and see if you can change the text
message in this poetic message
paint
typing at the speed of 35MPH

guess I’m just too slow for this new place
though I’ve always been in love with words, maybe I’ll just forget about it all
But
there’s no need to panic
You can just take these final words
and cut, copy, and paste them to your wall.
So that you can re-post my pain
and respond with ikr….

(even though you don’t really know what I’m talking about)
but you can inbox me your heart
and I can attempt to read it right
so go ahead
give me a heads up with a million likes

but you’ll never feel me…