Metamorphosis

Chances fall down as we circle the forgotten
days that once existed as long held breaths.
Holding on to bruised visions and
solemn prayers.
Hope has been shining in the glimmering prophesies
that promised refuge.
Refuge for the past we did not tred,
for the future that the waves brought
ashore much too soon.
For our memories that lingered between sheets
but did not think to bring honey
to stick on to the parchment of our hearts.
Now our fragility sits upon the moutain of the aged youth,
mounted and subdued.
Here we are,
Arriving to yesterday’s blues
but forgetting the tune,
once again.

Dealin’

Sonia’s been talking about all that

all that storytelling about being black and bad

all that knowledge woven in the politics of

dealing with one’s self and

I’ve been thinking about what

it really be about when Sonia tells me

that i am a black women who hasn’t meditated

on my self and only myselves

i’m really thinking about what Sonia is preachin’

through her sweet monologs and sultry lullabies

that tell me my blackness is worth more than a

glimpse, more than a shame-filled, passionless

fuck.

so I am really thinking about what Sonia has got me thinking about:

that I ought to do more

to deal with all of this,

all this blackness

and all that lays beyond it.

Sonia most definitely has me thinking about

dealin’.

Ode to the asshole

We all gathered. Gathering meant an event. It meant some possible specks of different on our grey lives.

And so we gathered.

And I was summoned.

I feared they might not understand. This reason for rage, this apparent loathing for the creation and existence of another- much like me? I thought not.

 

This is my ode to the asshole!

The one who makes promises he cannot keep.

The one who expects to receive always and is never satisfied with what is good.

The one who already has perfect but will trade it in for used- often.

The one who almost always has allergies for the truth, faith, trust and honesty.

Whose ego is blinding and ignorant. And often unnecessary.

 

This is my ode to the asshole!

Who has taken and taken but is yet to pay his credit.

Who has preyed on the “sweet and innocent” for far too long.

Who has learned to speak in forms of pick-up lines and cheesy romance novels.

Who expects chocolates and roses to be the only expectation.

Who has grown to believe that “easy” is the norm and the new religion.

 

This is my ode to the asshole!

Who lurks behind the shadows of misplaced “daddy issues” and a never-present Mother.

Whose hands are always waiting to slither between warm thighs.

Whose belief in chastity and self preservation have been lost in the passion of a poorly punctuated r n’ b song.

Who is always ready for the laying down, the getting in and the coming but somehow unavailable for the diaper changes and utility bills.

Who will fool you too often and break your heart too soon.

 

This is to the asshole!