poetic
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No Punctuation
Dear Love, your voice is the sound of pages I’ve been waiting to read my entire life like run on sentences in a book too perfect to end tell me how do you shackle power to punctuation If I could I would end this poem with a period or place a comma in the places… Continue reading
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These Good People
I will tell you of these good people A scroll of courtesy on their tongues Neatly wrapped in rainbows And angel’s wings The finest hello And thank you And good morning, please We are telecommunicators In front of computer screens With scripts And sayings And clichés That ring sunshine Like a glass of sweet summer… Continue reading
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Why I Write Truth
Because the world is a violent one and screaming death a song so routine is its lyrics crooked notes twisted and then dropped like lifeless bodies a glass vase shattering crackling like fire on the mountain and no one seems to be on the run I write truth because its better to spill ink than blood… Continue reading
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Dear Poetry
I wish I can take your words and carve them into the sky as if you alone was the cement at the fingertips of the Almighty wish I can breathe life into your nostrils like I held onto the strings stapled to the backs of the wind Dear poetry, I wish I can copyright your… Continue reading
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Outside The Box
It is seeing the good where good exist and the bad too without regard to person or persona It is passion existing in a universe where truth is the only color that matters it is black balled fist into the air minus the badge of branding black power to legitimize blackness it is denouncing blackness… Continue reading
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Erased
I dreamed in my mind that the Earth seemed to never move and the ships that sailed on it were slow and quite they never sounded their horns or went “Chu! Chu!” the wind never blew the stars never popped out of the sky like silk sheets and the thunder never growled its teeth the fish sat silent still alone even they refused to move just waited until the land came home all of it everything was gone the people were like zombies in every town they went about their daily routines but from sun up to sun down no one made a sound it was deception they decided to take it either that or I’m lost in the matrix surrounded by people that when they opened their mouths it seemed they faked it they would walk right through me and then walk into the streets as if with their eyes they could not see I dreamed the worst dream no more sun beaming down no more dirt covering this hallow ground instead I feel as though I am among graves people who walk around as if with no brains but as I stop and I’m staring a dead man in his face I realize that these people have been spiritually erased. Continue reading
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