I GET LOST IN YOUR ARMS,

FINDING COMFORT IN THE NOOK OF YOUR NECK.

YOUR CARESS SHEILDS ME.

I FIND WARMTH IN YOUR SCENT,

AS YOUR ESSENCE COVERS ME.

A CHEEK KISS SPREADS,

ALLOWING ME TO TASTE THE SWEETEST LIPS,

SWALLOWING YESTERDAY MORNINGS

FROM ONCE UPON A TIME.

I’M LOST.

AND CAN’T FIND MY WAY SOMETIMES.

YOU THINK I’M FIGHTING YOU,

BUT I’M REALLY FIGHTING MYSELF.

STAYING WHEN I SHOULDN’T,

HAVING WHEN I SHOULDN’T,

BEING WHEN I SHOULDN’T.

I CAN NEVER SEE CLEAR WRAPPED IN YOU.

SOMETIMES I DON’T WANT TO.

YOUR LOVE IS TOO GOOD IN MY BONES,

TOO RIGHT IN MY SPIRIT,

PERFECT IN MY HEART.

BEING DRUNK FROM YOUR LOVE,

I SAVOR THE FLAVOR.

I’LL NEVER KNOW ANYTHING LIKE IT.

ALTHOUGH I MUST WALK STRAIGHT,

AS DO MOST DAYS OF MY LIFE,

SOMETIMES I LIKE TO GET LOST.

I LOVE TO GET LOST IN YOU.

untitled

I can still smell u

 on the grey of my jacket

on the brown of my skin

 I can still taste you

warm on my tongue

 sweet to my lips

I heart still holds you

 it whispers your name

my soul still feels you

 reaching out to touch you

but u never answer my call

 So I hold this moment, tight

vowing to always remember

 you scent, your flavor

 your love.

HURT

TEARS SLIDE DOWN MAHOGANY. .

HIT THE BLUSH CARPET

LOUDER THAN THE TRAIN OUTSIDE MY WINDOW.

HURT CRIES SILENTLY,

BEING THE DOG WHISTLE IN MY EAR.

HURT IS IN AGONY . .

EYES THE COLOR OF DRUNK . .

SNIFFLING,

BLOWING MUCUS INTO SOFT WHITE

THAT I USE FOR PRIVATE AREAS. . .

HURT IS LOSING A BATTLE

IT NEVER WANTED TO FIGHT . .

HURT WANTS TO BE FOUGHT FOR.  .

PROTECTED . . GUIDED . . MOTIVATED.  .

BUT IT’S BEAT, DOWN AND OUT. . DISGUSTED. .

UNSURE WHERE TO GO OR HOW TO GET THERE

MY ARMS OUTSTRETCHED, I EMBRACE IT. .

SCARED CUZ I DON’T WANT HURT

TO TURN INTO RESENTMENT.

PAIN HITS YOU WITH NEGATIVITY,

SLAPS YOU WITH REJECTION,

AND BEATS YOU DISAPPROVAL.

HOW DO YOU SMILE THRU THE TEARS?

HOW DO YOU STAND WITH RUBBER LEGS?

HURT WEARS THE DISGUISE OF AN 11 YEAR OLD GIRL,

HURT GOES BY THE NAME OF “NOTHING”,

CUZ INSIDE HURT IS EMPTY,

AND SOON THAT’S ALL IT’LL FEEL.

BUT STILL, I EMBRACE IT.

ALLOWING ALL TEARS TO BE SHED. .

AND DEFENCES TO COME DOWN,

TO JUST BE. .

BE FREE.  .BE FELT.  . BE UNDERSTOOD.  .

BE WHO IT WANTS TO BE.

ACCEPTED.

LOVED.

 SOMETHING.

10.20.2008

10

10 fingers on precious hands

10 toes on cherished toes

10 features to show uniqueness

Hair, eyes, nose, smile, complexion

Personality, spirit, mind, heart, soul

10 elements 1 would die to have

10 attributes I want to see, hold,

Feel in me

10

Here I am 10 years later

Feels like day 1

Needing you like paying  rent on the first

Wanting you like breathin air

Missing you like 1^st grade homework

I never would have imagined you would drastically change me

Instead of changing diapers, I change the days I celebrate

Instead of making bottles, I make myself feel your absence

Instead of watching you grow, I watch myself shrink

 . . .to be continued

Silent Conversation

Silence speaks the loudest when words fail.
The back and forth word diss no longer entertaining.
Ears only being able to focus on the little things:
door movements, cell phone ringing, whispered conversation, silence's clothed footsteps.
I wish you could enter me the way Patrick Swayze did Whoppi Goldberg.
(For experiencing purposes, and not controlling reasoning)
Only then would you be able to see what you haven't before:
how my heart reaches out for you as if it were an infant and you were the only one it knew.
how my soul cries for you as if it were a toddler and you were the ba ba, the blankie, the stuffed cow, the only thing that brought comfort and settlement.
how my mind calls out for you as if it were an adolescent and you were its first love.
Maybe you've heard this before . .
Maybe you've thought this a time or two.
But nothing comes close to feeling it.
I've wished this on the biggest star, the brightest star, and even a few hidden stars.
I've prayed for you to jus sample how I feel.
I don't have to tell you prayer works,
Or how good my God is.
Here you are: door open, clothed footsteps,
Arms open, embrace placed tightly around my hips.
The best conversation we could ever have.

3.10.09
11:51 am

 

I remember the first I held a mic

Gripped between 4 fingers and a thumb

Eyes wide . . neck twisted . .lookin like

What you want me to do with this?

4th school election . .

All eyes on me . .

ears ready to be a receiver to my message of longer recess

 and better lunches

I rememebr the first time I heard a poem

11 years old . .

Wondering why Justice didn’t wanna be wit Lucky

He was hella fine and and had a job

I jus didn’t know why she was buggin

But alone she sat

Lyin . . thinkin of findin her soul a home

And then it hit me . .

On an imaginary stage in the front on my 8th grade class

After watching and really understand why a caged bird sang

That I too was a Phenomenal Woman . .

With a pen in my hand, and a my own song to sing,

Words exscape my writing instrument

drawing my soul naked, coloring the peices of a broken heart

sketching reflections of what used to be me,

outlining what could be the rest of my life.

i write . . to give you a better presentation of me

to release all pent up frustrations. . .

to sing about a love very few get to share . .

to tale the tale of how I came to be . .

I remember the first I rocked an open mic

Shy . . unsure of what the crowd would think

Eyes watchin my every move . .

And I’m back in 4th grade again . .

Only this time, I let my heart speak . .

In Response to Your Spit

(dedicated to the Misfit)

I dropped my raincoat and

I came weakened by rage

I came troubled by insecurity

I came traumatized by fear

I came scared by lack of faith

I came dusted & disgusted, scared & jarred,

Emtionally raw, believed everything I saw,

Dumbfounded & unbounded

Conflicted & restricted

Tormented, dememnted,

Hella stressed, & perplexed

By love.

Bellitted, unsettled

unbelievably flustered,

Not enough strength to muster,

Apprehensive, disturbed, mentally abused

Scratched punched, physically abused

By being in love.

I came naked

Weary soul, bruised heart, fragile mind,

Bare

Trying to get wet to wash away my despair.

Too far for me to feel the prayer,

So eye to eye is where we share this glare.

Soaked, drinched

Unknowing on which night,

On which mic, that you would

Be the benediction of my calamity,

The absolute of my affliction.

Dropped to my knees from

Carrying yesteryears,

Molded yesterdays

Corroded weight of the world on my shoulders,

Tanished past times on my neck, &

Too tight baggages of shoulda-Woulda-couldas

Around my waist

Seeing configurations in the constellations

Allow the constant sense of insecurity

To drain from my eyes.

I can now see.

I want to thank you for telling my story 

Sad as it may be.

Trying on inspiration for size

Trying to right my wrongs

trying to turn humilation into strength,

castatrophe into devine sanction.

My life into fire,

Blazing the blessings od sent you to torch.

Blasphemy is a poet who stays silent,

So my voice I'll scorch.

Speaking as if I were here before,

From a past life

That rocked my bed like Fred & Wilma,

I grabbed your hand

In the middle of my rain storm,

I began to read a speech

Froma notebook

Stashed behind "My Secrets",

On the bottoms of "forgettables"

On the right side of my brain:

THANK YOU FOR THE GASP OF AIR

THAT ALLOWED ME TO BREATHE

WHEN LOVE REALIZED I COULDN'T GO ON

WITHOUT MY DAUGHTER,

11 YEARS AGO STILL BORN

WHILE MEMORIES OF HER ARE STILL BORN.

THANK YOU FOR THE LAUGH

MY SPIRIT SEARCHED FOR

WHILE BEING REJECTED, NEGLECTED

DISRESPECTED & UNPROTECTED.

NOW I CAN SAY "I'M UNAFFECTED"

THANK YOU FOR WASHING THE INK

OF THE LETTER

OF ME BEING DEARLY DEPARTED,

SUICIDE TUCKED IN THE CORNER

OF MY BOTTOM DRESSER DRAWER

AT 13 YEARS OF AGE.

MY ILL INTENTIONS FESTERING

TO COMMITT MURDER

10 DIFFERETN WAYS

IN THE LEAST AMOUNT OF DAYS.

THE VICTIM YOU PORTRAY,

BUT THE FEEL OF MY BODY

HAS YOU AMAZED.

Becasue of your love for the word,

And becaue i love the every word you speak,

Thank you for reaching for a poem

To reach my soul.

Thank you for the rain.

Thank you for gettin me. . . . wet.

4/30/09

6:46pm