“Books are meat and medicine
and flame and flight and flower
steel, stitch, cloud and clout,
and drumbeats on the air.”
― Gwendolyn Brooks
Tag: poem
Encoded
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.
Delilah’s Responsibility
I wonder if it was a spiritual experience
wonder
if blades covered their eyes against the war to which you had grafted them
wonder
if angels had taken the time to whisper to strands of hair of their coming demise
I wonder if they saw laughter dancing in your eyes
and if they had prepared themselves
with breastplates
and helmets,
and knee pads,
if they held their hands up
wonder if the blade hesitated against the strength of the strands
that rubbed against each other
like
lovers
strands of hair that were intimately entwined
hair that made a covenant with the earth
hair
that had promised to protect him since birth
that clung onto one another
like Samson clung onto you
strands of hair that loved
like Samson loved you.
But I wonder if it was spiritual for you
Did you see them as Kings planted inside the throne of private follicles
and fighting battles there
or was it just
hair?
was it spiritual?
for you?
When you touched it,
did you shake hands with angels,
did truth shoot through your body like electricity,
did your fingers grow numb
Did you feel it?
Did your stomach back flip, turn your tears into rivers
Did your mind leave you
Did it purchase attorney’s to plead mercy on behalf of the war you had begun
the moment you looked into his eyes and said “I love you”
Did the spirit find you guilty of conspiracy
to commit the world’s greatest terrorist attack
or did the Philistines just want their money back
I wonder
if you noticed that at that moment your hands were weapons,
heavy and strong
locked and loaded
weapons of war and your heart were choir directors
and yall played
Oh so softly the music of deception,
you sung ballads on his scalp
And immersed his enemies in your lap
I imagine you had bullets beneath your cuticles
You see, I wonder what your life was like
But most of all,
I wonder about the events that lead up to your iniquity
I wonder
Dearest Delilah… about your responsibility.
Wonder if my brother saw righteousness on top freshly painted nails
I wonder if 7 dread locs are added to your scale
And I pray…
I’m not presented with such a responsibility
I wonder if foresight blessed you with the image of Judas
without his consequence
wonder if his betrayal was your inspiration
to get through this
wonder if you are our warning to learn from the past
so that the present’s truly
a gift.
Give Me Life
Your words are beautiful
the way you paint them.
Tie descriptions around waterfall,
Walk us through frowning mirrors and smothered air,
And then auction them off to our fondest senses.
Touching us gently enough to resurrect imagination,
you have talent and you know it.
Cracking open heaven so that we may feel
what it’s like to sleep on top of clouds
or rightly discern what a teardrop taste like,
for we glide along in the melting pot of your splendor.
But your words do not live,
nor do they bring forth life.
I can hear the sirens of an acrylic woman
drowning in her own salt water…
Can you help her?
Will your words assist her in their beauty?
Your words suck the breath from our lungs with its daintiness
the Picasso of Poems,
A hanging Mona Lisa of walking glamour…
Except what I see
are lynched portraits
pretending to swing delicately
from the trees you attached them to.
A jump rope fantasy of tree houses and hopscotch.
I can smell the sizzling fragrance from miles away,
But beauty is just simply not enough for me.
I need to know that before time hugs my flesh,
before the gravediggers begin their song
Can I count on your words to CPR me into its arms?
Or perhaps,
I’ll just remember how beautiful
you are.
I Understand
As if I had not awakened
from a slumber of lies
baptized in tradition’s rebellion
As if I had not been unplugged
From the matrix of deception intoxicated by the signs of the times
I finally understand
As if you had not left prophecies etched on the calcium of my bones
Like you didn’t leave your footprints in the sand drenched blood
dripping from the curse of our ancestors lips
Like you didn’t carve your every scripture into my very skin
like a big brothers reminder that there is always a rainbow above our father’s head
And above your sister’s head
When it rains
I understand now
You see Endurance
the prominence
comes like a splashing dose of faith
like a car accident that knocks me off my feet
and kills me
I get it
18 years later
The irony
Of life and death
finds itself a home in this house of poetry
scattered somewhere across Yahoshua’s piercing skin and these broken bones
for this I know
somewhere between the compassion of Moses intercession, the call of John’s cry
to the forgiveness of my wretched sins
They mock you more than they did back then
today
Though you chose to wear the bravery of our lustful scars upon your skin
Your narrations written a thousand times greater than the stars
that your faith taught us never to put our trust in
cause milky ways never shed its blood for us
I swear
Of all the times I daydreamed in childhood
I never saw chocolate fall like snowflakes of obedience hammered to nails
Cause Cocoa beans never gave itself for me
But your salvation’s never been a fairytale
But they mock you now
As they did back then
And sell your story for gold encrusted tithes
they don’t know why
or what it’s like for a father to give birth to a son
For salvation to give birth to the sun
You are a millions times braver
Than the best solider and your skin shines brighter
Than the sympathy beating inside the chest of broken legs and wounded body parts
You are far braver than one trillion purple hearts
Or bleeding pens on the white paper of a soldier’s goodbye
deaths footprints on cold caskets
we should be ashamed
cause we value metaphors and similes like the colors of picnic baskets with healthy fruit
but there ain’t enough poems about the day they hung you
the burnished brass of your skin tone and the wooly texture of your hair
centuries before we knew what a lynching was
but at least we understand
that you was, and you are
and you will be
this
I do understand
Not Another One
No
This is not another one
Not a sex poem,
not a hood poem
Not a “I’m black and I’m proud!” so let’s try to be real poem
Not another marching
No more killings
(and please let’s do something other than sit in)
not another “We shall overcome.”
No not another one
Not a slow one
Not one 2 bore you
I’m not that one
Rising from my falls
I am that one,
but don’t you worry,
cause not another dialogue
No not another one
Not another long-winded one
nor will I give you a fast one
No not another fast one,
you see my words no need 2 map it
So what am I a rapper or a poet?
Not another one
yet just another one
these words I encourage your minds 2 freeze it
Just freeze
Cause this is not another one about Jes-
Us
not another one about Just
Us
Not a kemet poet
and can you believe I have a twin but this is not another Mary Mary Duet
Not another Allah, Buddha, Osiris and Horus,
not another number 2 define me no matter what the score is
For only the Truth knows what my sentence is
She with the gun in her hand you mistake for the pen
Keeping the laws that my father gave
and promises kept sacred from the grave
Watching this pen bleed life onto a lifeless page
Sent from the mighty one,
but don’t you worry
this is not another
“So like, I’ll just leave my footprints in the Sun” one
No,
she’s definitely not another one
yet just another one..
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