My Poems on Soundcloud

I am back on Soundcloud and am in the process of uploading audio poetry of the poems I’ve published to this blog. Follow me HERE and listen to the poems that you’ve already liked and loved. This is also my opportunity to introduce my voice to those of you who have never heard me speak.

Yes, I am shy and those of you who meet me in person will see for yourself. However, I was inspired to do this for two reasons:

a. I went through the recorder on my phone and noticed I had recorded poems that were just sitting there.

b. Because I have poems just sitting there I figured they aren’t doing any good. The least I can do is upload them and try reaching as many people as I can. Even if it’s just one person I hope that these pieces are a blessing to your life.

I have uploaded several but more are on the way. Like I said, I am uploading audio versions of all the poems I’ve published to this blog so it will take some time to get through them all. Consider this a virtual Open Mic Night  ; )

LISTEN HERE

Peace

– EC

Virtual Reality

We live in computers
and communicate
telepathically
wirelessly crossing dimensions
the deafening silence of
connections
that ain’t connected
how do you know
if I wrote this poem in my own
tears
or scribbled these letters
with the sharpened edge of my own
backbone
how do I know
that you didn’t throw me a smile
minus the jagged tooth remains
of a dilapitated heart
cause the grass is always greener
on social media
when we live in a world
where emojis digitize
the masks we wear
until our differences melt the pride
and phony personas
hanging off the edge of gravatars
profile pictures and WordPress walls
that captured nothing but smiling faces
and not the lies behind them
because virtual realities
is anything but virtuous
for we hide
behind usernames
and cartoon ourselves
into the people
we wish we were
speak in a language we are too afraid
to utter
outloud
tremble in the presence
of flesh
and bone
too afraid of human connection
to connect
how would you know
if I wrote this poem in my own
tears
or scribbled these letters
with the sharpened edge of my own
backbone
how could I know
If you emojied me a smile
minus the jagged tooth remains
of a dilapitated heart
here, in this place
where we log out of life
to login

The Perfect Piece

poetry-and-types-of-poetry

Repost for World Poetry Day.

 

To the lyrically talented
the brave who do not stop at sing-song
and music
but poems whose words themselves
are like melody
like the rhythm of rocking chairs
like serenity
like soldiers stomping truth into the torso of the earth
like Assata’s
like revolution
like Maya Angelou’s
and Ntozake’s
perfect like marching orders
like biblical
like Deborah’s
and Sara’s
like faith
and the wisdom of the eyes
the fire of truth
the sweet delicate of love
real love
the perfect piece

I anxiously anticipate undressing you
pulling back the symbolic layers of your metaphors
and deciphering your definitions
your rhymes curve perfectly around the waist of melodies
and swim better than oceans
you taste
why you taste like deserts springing forth with water
like tongues taste new wine
bringing the heat of our passion together
like fire to chocolate
like when bodies melt
and pens bleed both love and pain
you give birth to both truth and wisdom
the perfect lyric over a tight beat
you’re
the perfect piece

To Write a Heart

How do we trace the outlines of the invisible?
where despair won’t touch you gentle
and secret won’t fingerprint its way out of chest
and won’t poetry its way out of fear
the darkened cave of mankind’s deepest secrets
and treasured desires
the place he enters through the mind
tucking away all inner thought
inner being
inner wish
inner fantasy
that real self
hiding in thought
a storage place for his hopes
his hatreds
dreams and guilt
a peeled off echo of coming and going and knowing better
this is his resort
his vacation away from himself
his place of residence
he lives here
inside the cave made of chest
the place he thinks no one will ever find
can we write the heart?
take it beating
bleeding
and dripping with genuine
soaking with regret,
and repentance,
and expectation,
and nerves all tender like
hanging suspended in the air
or on the closet hooks of his thoughts
under the bed spread of memory
flowing back and forth like waves
we stand knee deep in his tears
our clothing soaked with his love
and his hatred too
can we contextualize the heart?
twist it
turn it
influence its shape so that it fits on these lines
can I drink your thoughts?
so that you relate to lyric
and your heart fits the silhouette of this pen
and puts a dent in white paper

Choices

writing-933262_1920

There are many paths before us,

a starlight fantasy for our dreams

a dose of reality for our truths

and a playground for our games

all candy coated to look alike

and we shackle ourselves

to the decisions, we make

paths unfold like red carpet occasions

so that we may sharpen discernment

and choice spreads its arms wide

like a mother

beckoning for her children

inviting us to lay our head

in her bosom

and there we feed on the free will

to choose our own verdicts

what will history write in our favor

and what will we leave behind?

Choices.

We live on them

like the 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

Love Me Into Music

music-4

the birth of tranquil

when words meet music

racing anxiety slowed,

and slick,

and subtle

like splashes of sunlight

chipping at our faces

warm and comforting

like tapping footsteps

love me

like drumming fingers

like dancing

bobbing heads

and bodies contorted

into the full figure of violin

and singing like half notes

like puzzles brought together

and connecting to the sky

we love like wireless

find us anywhere

find us weak

and fractured

our experiences tugging against our very

existence

like tendons and muscles

our faces pulled back

like nostalgia

an orgasmic melody

of words to virgin ears

potent,

and suspect,

and anxious

musical therapy

a body of instrument

like balls of flesh torn

into stuttering syllables,

and time signatures

and melodies and pianos

we play poetry like pianos

like fingers are feathers

every nerve tickled

by the slightest touch

a Katrina of waves

pleasurable

and strong

like euphoria

brushing against the shores of truth

love me into music

like base that split atoms into frequencies

that scrape the sky

that loves like stringed instruments

this is a love

that sounds

like

music