Tag: poem

Her Skin

beautiful-skin

She has heard for too long now
that her pores bleed the color of slave ships
that chains have been seen in her smile
that her skin shines like a beacon of shame
sprinkled amidst Mississippi cotton fields
sometimes
her beauty sticks out
like a diamond in the ruff they notice her
and still
she is only pretty for a dark skin girl
Who does she think she is?
being darker than a brown paper bag?

The truth is that she is the color of the Goddesses
a dark chocolate kiss
neatly wrapped in silk
want to touch her face
just to see if it’s real
just to see if it’ll melt underneath my fingertips
Instead
I’ll keep my hands to myself
don’t want to be the stone
responsible for the wrinkles in her skin
this delicate rose petal of a woman
reborn in the spring
don’t want my touch
to taint her gorgeous
where not even the bite of Winter
dares to diminish
her light

Writing 101: Assignment #3 – One Word Inspiration–Choice (a poem)

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Created to choose good
we traded our crown for the right to understand evil
And stand now as soldiers in a time of war
load me down with breastplates and helmets
for we shackle ourselves to the decisions we make
There are many paths before us,
a starlight fantasy for our dreams
a playground for our games
and truths
and falsehoods
all candy coated to look alike
these paths unfold like red carpet occasions
judgment spreads its arms like a mother
beckoning for her children
inviting us into its chest
and there we feed on the free will
to choose our own verdicts
what kind of life will we live
and what will we trail behind
choices
we live on them
desperately
like the very breath we breathe
inhale and exhaling ourselves to the next step
what will become of this poem
will I dare to save a life
is it possible
that one can live on these words
desperately
nourished simply by the right
to choose
to read them

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I Wonder

notebook-pen-writing-style

I wonder what would happen
if I threw my pen into yesterday
let it scribble up the past
and teleport those memories
to the edge of my fingertips
If I splashed this page with infinity
so that you remember forever
where you came from.
Or what if I just thought about it
wirelessly sent messages across dimensions
bringing back roots
and read your thoughts before they reached you
replace futility with the integrity of substance
create worlds out of nothing
create soldiers out of nobody’s
a ghetto child that’s restored to his place as a King
I wonder
If I could.
Would you let me
transcribe history
staple its pages to the roof of your mouth
let your tongue unfold like ancient scrolls
saliva running like living water
and dripping like liquid foundation
stand in the backyard of Eden
and hide no longer between rocks and hard places
find your place here
inside the body of this pen
along the lines of this page
I give you permission to bleed
all the crazy reasons why
you matter.

Those Who Love

It’s their presence alone that
lifts the floor and
commands the clouds to unclench their fist
cause
love wraps its garment around
their bodies
like insane prisoners to compassion
confined and restricted
to the affection that binds them
stitched and knitted
like a fresh garment,
like fresh skin
to the beautiful body of genuine
call them
the mentally insane cause
they got to be crazy
to be binding themselves like this

Encoded

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Certain memories won’t let you forget
they rush before the forefront of your mind
like messages that escaped the past
only to cement themselves inside you
climb their way through blood vessels
encoded experiences written in our DNA
for thoughts do not disappear
do not evaporate from the mind
only to fall short in the abyss of nothingness
they’re instead a strand of silent data
entwined within the past and the present that is you
and sometimes, the future too
encoded memories
they erupt old wounds like falling planes
in smoke filled clouds
a twin tower sacrifice for your humility
a taste of truth for our memories
a thorn in the side
encoded data
so we never forget what falling feels like.

Insomnia

Caught a glimpse of your shadow last night
would have missed that much had not the wind whistled
like it does when it wants the curtains to dance.
And she so coy,
the way she looks over her shoulders
when nobody’s watching
giggling fabric
She so cool
love the effortless sway from moonlight to windowsill
It was this lovemaking of the wind and my curtains
that alerted me to your footsteps
and though short-lived, I can still smell the essence
that is your backbone
a taste of perfection after a clean death
…but you didn’t kiss my grave rejuvenation last night.
I waited for you
like a desperate lover on the edge of embrace
hoping for your calm to hold back my storms
for your peace to let down the curtains of drooping eyelids
but dear sleep,

I was your fool last night.