Guest Feature – Fear Itself Is Undefined by Bianca Flores

I lay on my bed soaking my pillow with my tears,
I try to remember exactly what it is that I fear.
Is it the passing of time or the love that I lack?
Is it the mistakes that I’ve made or the fact that I can’t bring the past back?
What is it that I’m afraid of?
Why am I so scared?
Is it the people I’ve hurt or the people that have hurt me?
Am I afraid of everything that I cant seem to see?
Is it the love of a friend, or the loss of my family?
Is it the possibility that my life can end in a tragedy?
What is it that I fear most?
What do my eyes say I’m scared of?
Is it the sun that sets but won’t seem to rise?
Is it the hope that I have that always seems to die?
Is it the trust of a person that I cannot begin to grasp?
Is it all the memories of my horrid past?
Is it me?
Can it possibly be that the thing I fear most is the thing I can’t be?
The things that I try to understand?
The me that I try to be with when I’m feeling sad?
The person I’m expected to be? Is that what I fear? . . .
I think the thing I fear most . . .is me

– Poem written by Bianca Flores

Mankind is an Arrogant Creation

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Mankind is an arrogant creation.
He walks proudly on both legs,
almost as if the wind carries him
His head is tilted toward the sky that he curses with his lips
But the clouds mock him
And the seas have admitted, he is foolish in his ways
He possess intellect, but his intelligence has seated him on the right side of fools
knowledge, wisdom, and understanding has slipped from his fingers; escaping his memory
He has no parachute to which to catch them, and he does not desire to
He is an arrogant creation, man is
Everything is thankful except him
He does not understand that what elevates the trees,
birds,
and even the wind is their willingness to bow in submission to love
to fill the vessel that is himself with compassion
to walk an orderly path
to wrap oneself outwardly and inwardly around it like a fetus in its mother’s womb
to bleed it’s law
and conform to the shape and the will of love
but he is greater in comparison
man is
And what compares to love?
He cannot count the number of hairs on his head
Measure the depth of the sea
And the width of the wind
Yet, he is greater than love?
Yes
It is clear
deception has robbed him of the truth…
because mankind is an arrogant creation

There’s a Poem Somewhere

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There’s a poem somewhere waiting to be heard.
There’s a child out there confused and afraid so he waits and she waits to be heard.
There’s a man out there who wants to know truth
but this world is so tempting that his dreams he’d rather pursue
there’s a poem out there somewhere that speaks to you.
There’s a student out there who refuses to sit still in class because he refuses to accept that his people are at the bottom of the social class,
he refuses to accept that his history goes no further than the days of slavery’s past
there’s a young lady out there whose virginity didn’t last.
Because see,
somewhere,
there’s a young woman who was taught that her materialistic was much more precious than her body so she sold her body,
for cash.
somewhere out there a young man’s innocence didn’t last…
Somewhere a young boy is told that it didn’t matter who he shared his love with
that it didn’t matter if he sexed ‘em young or old for the rest of his days…
there’s a young man out there who can’t understand why and how he’s got AIDS.

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There’s a false prophet out there waiting to get paid.
There’s a couple out there who just can’t get along
there’s a father out there who can’t leave his home, the home occupied with bars for far too long.
There’s a mother out there who can’t sing her song,
her song of new life that has lingered in the air for far too long.
And a grandfather who can’t take depression for much too long and a…
there’s a…
poem somewhere…
out there……that sings these songs.
There’s a brother out there who’s tired of being alone.
There’s a sister out there in search for a home.
There’s a nation out there that just does not belong,
in this world.
But there’s a Power out there who hears these cries
and a Truth out there that squashed those lies
and there are many prophets, they too have cried.
Somewhere now,
somewhere……
somehow …..
somewhere here,
this poem right now
There’s someone out there who hears these songs…
and their poem is right now,
so to say somewhere……
I guess
I was wrong.

You Can’t Leave…

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You can’t leave me
not now
not ever
not while my kiss is in your bloodstream
and not when your tongue has danced on the insides of my mouth
not when your teeth have carved “I luv u’s”
on my heart like hieroglyphic images
to remember when were far apart from each other
like
long standing memories
And if I 4get to say I love you just use the seal of my kiss and put them in parenthesis
but not for a Greek tragedy
so you see
there aint no leaving me
Not unless you wanna leave you
and then our bystanders can tell stories of those days back when life made sense
back when you were already a man of pride
and serious eyes were already making love to the tears of my innocence
Not unless you want them to weep at our footprints
But if your heart continues to cry my tears
And my heart continues to cry your tears
Then it will be impossible for you to leave me
Because our hearts will be tongue tied for years.

Let’s Make Music

Retro microphone on stage in restaurant. Blurred background

I wanna make music
tonight
I wanna sing
for you
Don’t ask me to metaphor into bunny rabbits
cause I ain’t up here to do tricks for you
I am up here to sing
for you
I am here
to make music
to make
melody
you ask me
why I don’t show my face
why my performance can’t be seen by yo physical eyes
but this here aint no show
I got no tricks of the trade to show you
these words aint cropped to fit your opinion
they aint photo shopped to enhance your feelings
but I know how visual you people are
how you wonder about signs and wonders
so you wonder
why I won’t baptize my poetry
behind the lens of your cameras
have I fallen from the horse of couplets and closed forms?
maybe
I’ve just C-sectioned my Spoken Word to reveal my insides
besides
I’ve got to have some kind of gut
to stand up here and strip for you
just let me be real for you
let me calm you
let these words heal you
and let’s make music
a cleft
a time signature
a note
a rest
a song
a stepping stone
to play just the right scripture
to guide us back to the music sheet
just let me stand here
let me be here
and
just let me sing
for you

Cousin

black-girl

She walks but she sleeps…
she sleeps her way down 35th street,

Chicago’s State Streets.
The project life booming
lights
camera
action,
whistles blowing the street life calling
undressing her body with its eyes
for she blooms into this new body just as suddenly as the sky rises
she rises
into womanhood…….
since that first flow of blood sent hormones racing against waves she sleeps
with those waves
feelings of pretend love from the streets
swallow that pill of ignorance,
dazed in ecstasy
she sleeps.

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Hennessy bottles, homo sags and Baphomet signs,

he sleeps
getting this paper either on the basketball court or the recording studio he stays true to the streets, so he thinks.
Blind hormones and rap songz creating another generation of sleepers
too bad he doesn’t know
that by the age of 10 he’s already red listed as one of NYPD’s takers.
polished A-k 47’s eagerly await just 8 more years until it’s their turn to accidentally
shoot away what consciousness he’s got left.
But he sleeps
and she sleeps
living dreams to the fullest only to never realize that it was just a dream
living life to the fullest only to die
wake up and not live.
never giving ourselves the opportunity to realize that sleep is just the cousin of death.
Because the almighty never sleeps

and his righteous angels you see they don’t sleep
and the messiah died
dying physically
only to wake up from this sort of temporary sleep because he was ordained to never sleep again.
cause you can only live once…..physically
your body’s life fading away in the distance
rats and insects tearing away at past dreams of disobedience
but will you ever wake up from this past slumber and really live?
or will you sleep,
and sleep,
and sleep…
to become more acquainted
with the cousin of death.