Tag: poetry

Courage

Close up portrait of a young african american woman looking out window when working on laptop

I know that it is never easy

to wear scarlet letters on your skin

to take history

and C-section her calendars

for the stories

that didn’t make it

until you find the authenticity

of truth

like consciousness

beautiful

but delicate

see through

and cutting

like shattering glass

piercing the spirit

and slicing through flesh and bone

so no one looks at the news the same

but for those of you

who have cherished her summers

kissed her springs

embraced the coldest winters ever

and dared to wear her degradation

on your lips

for your courage to find the other pieces

of her

the parts society is too fearful

of hearing

she bathes in your smile

because you loved her, truth

saw her delicate

and fragile

torn between the additions

and subtractions

that multiplied her sorrows

until her parts were divided

ripping her reality from the pages of scripture

like confused tongues

and babblings

snatching her away

from the breast of wisdom

like coal painted faces

minstrel shows

whitewashed genesis

cream-colored pharaohs

but she is not interested

that you feel sorry for her

history

she needs not of your pride

not of your bonafie hustlers

in prophet suits

not of your street corners

not of your liquor stores

not even of your religion

for her stone coated roses are too heavy

to place upon your caskets

for even in death

you have honored yourself

above her

truth

needs not of your chocolate bars

for history is tired of eating

she is sick

to the brim

with prophecies

and worries

and concerns

and birth pains

over those who wear her burden

like the colors of their skins

but she is thankful

that they have chosen to rather be humiliated

than to deny her

and this poem

is for all

their bravery.

Rest

rest-day

I wanna turn off my brain. Not completely, just enough to gather my breath and lay it at the head of the bed….a temporary moment to which renewal finds itself back to my pillow; to which I may die, and in the same second be reborn. I want my eyes to bow in submission to my bones, and my soul to fall slowly to the contours of this mattress….and for a second pretend that the world has crumbled around me. For a second, for just a moment, let me lay my body at the foot of sleep’s doorstep, pretend to swim with the clouds, and in the same moment…. taste of rejuvenation’s delicacies.

I Promise You a Woman

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I know what kind of girls you’re used to.
I know that
kindergarten fingers on small hands don’t know how to hold you
like I do see
she pushes buttons on your heart like that
cause she’s not hip to the fact that a man can lose focus too
but see she’s just a little girl
so she plays catch with your emotions
cause she feels that if she hits you hard enough
you’ll start coughing up tokens for her to play games with
see
I know that your body to these little girls is merely a myth
And every trip to your mouth is a quiz
enveloped in living water that she ain’t learned how to swim in yet
so she apologizes for getting lost in your kiss
and every vibration of your body simply doesn’t make sense to her
and every word of truth coming from your lips is like a puzzle
that she ain’t figured out yet
and she’s insecure because what she’s selling has failed
and its cause the way you love to her is reminiscent of fairy tales
see
they mistake my trust for you as some kind of façade
don’t know what a real man is so they think you are a God to me
mistaken the heavenly embrace of your arms for wings
cause I told ‘em I’m willing to fly away with you
and they mistakenly discern that you grant me wishes like the milky ways
and the stars
cause they see me praying for you
and your mind they can’t dissect
your ways are hidden from them like the life of tiny insects
so she dismisses you as too perfect and she ain’t ready for all that yet
you’re just too nice for her
yea, I know what kind of girls you’re used to
But what I promise you
Is a woman

I promise you support sweeter than any tea you could fathom
I promise you words of love and not temper tantrums
I promise to be strong so when it comes to bearing my burdens you don’t have to
Because I promise to help and not hinder you
I promise to cry tears on your shoulders so I can properly communicate with you
And I promise to bear soldiers and little soliderettes for you
You see I promise not to walk in your shoes
cause I’m woman enough to know that you’re the head of me
And like the neck I support you
Cause what I promise you
I promise you, not a little girl,
but what I promise you
is a woman.

Guest Feature – Alone

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

– Maya Angelou, Alone

Delilah’s Responsibility

Samson-and-Delilah

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

Backgrounds_Windows_7_-_Source_of_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

BlackJesus

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