Self Portrait pt.1

i am scatterbrain

and uncontrolled

collected in a messy kindof way

my legs aint always shaved

and my finger nails are rarely painted

(my childhood grim and tainted)

sometimes i have sad eyes

and a furious brow

a quick tongue 

but a daunting smile

i stand created 

from an assortment of complex memories

and establishment after experience

i myself am incorporated 

and i got business

Purpose of divine favor

my hands and lips 

sometimes be horrified

to dance in the breath of my own existence 

i often question what life is

and wonder where mine is 

i've lost it

reclaimed and disclosed my truth

sometimes there's a cry in my chest 

that i can't quite get out

sometimes i lie and contradict myself

i am a hypocrite 

and perfectly flawed 

sometimes i admire the unworthily flawless

and desire to live that life

more often than so i'm petrified 

and hidden behind the living 

folded between the lines

my hips round and large

so i'm often out the margin 

or bleeding through the paper

or sometimes just too messy to read

Ever live for years without breathing?
(i feel like i just exhaled)

sometimes i feel brutish 

and allow myself to gloat in pity

often i look to outward lives 

to catalyze my outward movement 

sometimes i feel lovely

and admire my coat of skin

too often i question myself from within

and wonder where times been

and where it's goin'

and who be knowin'

(and how much of my life was sin?)

consistently i live in uncertainty 

dwell too heavily in my own thoughts

and confuse perception with reality 

we all be

confusions of an unreal past

living towards a fabricated future

denying the moment of now

too far removed from the present
ceasing to seize the moment 

every second a different prospected memory 

every memory 

a different perspective of the past

sometimes i be scatterbrain

every thought more conflicting than the last one
actions abruptly premeditated 

I asked God to reveal me to myself
he told me to let go of my past 

and to stop anticipating the future
live aware of the present moment 

to breathe as though i've been delivered 

Winter time blues.

Inspiration: This cold ass pre winter day in October
Word: Winter

I hate winter time
it reminds me of those sad ass days
when the cold only made shit worse-
and iced over sidewalks
with blood turned brown
and the residue of dirty caution tape

I hate winter time
and late packed ass Chicago buses
and the dry frozen salt on the back of hearses 
and tryin' to keep warm on the train

I hate winter time
cause it reminds me of legs slippin'
and bodies dippin'
and hot burning tear drops frozen over
from mother

I hate
the winter time
and cold black ashy hands
wanting for dinner
and for closure

I hate winter time
cause it feels like that good luck shit
that don't exist
den ran dry
and it's ice blue gray skies
make it seem like the sun den died

I hate winter
and how time passes slower
hard for the lonely loner

I hate the winter time
cause all I see
is them white pretty families
cuttin' down christmas tress
and broke and broken mamas
tryin' to make holiday
when ends don't meet

I hate the fucking winter time
it reminds me of harsh winds
and the infinite sound of doors closin'
and eviction
and all that other bullshit

I hate winter time
cause it feels like death stings deeper
standing over salted dead-land
and by frozen trees
and that walk back from RUSH still haunts me

I hate winter time
because trees don't seem to hide me
and snow tracks tell where to come fine me

and I hate January
because the start of a new year
redundantly brings back
memories kissed with neglect grief
and death

and I'm forever wantin' you to come back-

to fall,
when the September Sun
danced in your brown eyes
and your color changing body was only limp
but still patiently holdin' on

So I hate the winter
and how every year it only gets colder
and I'm further away from you in time

Divided Life

Inspiration: This book I'm reading about Henrietta Lacks
Word: Torn

I feel like another part of my life
has been torn from my heart
and my soul be diluted
and flat like cooled hot water
I feel like I've been stretched open
and cut unwilling
like Henrietta

I feel like my tears be endless,
I shed the Sahara

Sometimes I get lost in daydreams
to cultivate new dreams

I can only hope that my torn lives
multiply, like heres did
and love for something
better? Like here ded

I thought I was empty once
that empty felt much better

My pit of black be lonesome
but it shines more vividly
than daybreak suns

My cave is etched with pillars
of heartbreak and isolation

The walls painted heavy
with over thought confusion

The floor burns bright
and catalyzes compulsive upsetting thoughts

I call this place calm

I sit neatly placed at my desk
quieter than that sick silence
so my ears ring of deafening screams
and unprint worthy violence

My hands be numbed
no longer strong enough to lace
just cuff

They be fulfillin' their mission for us
I've been thought down
into an unfair fore-sought destiny

Mothers had more of a dream for me
my torn lives be slabbed on
petri dishes or profited on
by the lawless lords

I wonder if they'll see the moon
or distill into the air
chocking the breathe of dead land
or if they'll revolutionize a society
be noteworthily uncredited
to the hearts that they were torn from

I wonder what might become
of we
I wonder if we might multiply
rather than divide
I wonder if we might reclaim
our torn lives

You Promised Me

Inspiration: In light of all the current foolery of the world.
Word: Promise

I feel lighter than money

cool, im sippin' it

                                         ----the cool say

I dreamed a dream of cool passion

and moon sent 

delivered in deliverance

I heal through membrance

"We couldn't see the stars

so we threw up our own" he said

Now we got our own

killin' our own- I read

Books explain why the crooks

be crooks

and why my people's smiles stay

crook

ed

We be hooked-in

the imagery of

the broke-in

that's that reality tv shit

fuckin' with our perception

got us thinkin' real is

a cold bed of

wanders tryin' to find a found dream

hell

haunted on the backs of open legs

and hands throwin' up

callin' oneself supreme

uncommonly common is the new theme

Frank Ocean said it was a one man's cause

so he must not fuck with that one man's laws

And I be scorn again

be that angry black woman

because I can't become

the remedy, of a broken reality

that shit dead

What if I shot the sheriff

for all the misbled blood

and hung him high

enough to see

dead little girl's panties

danglin' on trees

and bodies being broke open

by aimless cylinders ablaze

led by lost thoughts

trailed by troubled haze

and mother's hearts falling

quicker than running teardrops

while their worries run faster

tryin' to make way

And who said Sodom and Gomorrah

was all that damn bad

I much rather live amongst free love

than the land of the dead

And aint that where we is

with all this self-denying finger pointing

hatred?

We be sippin' on that maddening world-

What she say?

"I don't hear [shit] but maddening screams

and the soft strains of death..."

You promised me

a freedom

postto insure some blessing of liberty

said if I agree I'd be insured domestic tranquility

the best lie was the promotion of general welfare

because the lawless lawmakers

don't care

thus I've created a new promise

deviated from a blood country's platform norm

aint no need to confirm or follow

my promise aint ratified by the heartless or hollow

merely a claim for my stolen dignity

So, fuck a promise

I'll claim my own free

Movies

Inspiration: My favorite movies.
Word: Watch

I want to watch Drumline
and Save the Last Dance
sing along with the Temptations
and shout with the Five Heartbeats
I wanna do the washer machine with Selena
and hoop with Monica
I want to fall in love With The King
and be dazzled like Anna
I want to be marveled by the life of Billie
Sing a little blues too
I'd love to ride the bleak with Juno
and get lifted with Craig and Smokey
I wanna have a walk on beaches
and see the garden of Edward
I'd love to get bad with my bads
and Set it Off
then cry a little bit with Doughboy
I want to hurt with my Sister's Keeper
and be romanced by Love Jones
I want to feel classic hip hop
and beautiful in Brown Sugar
and be troubled by 13
I wanna live that thug lyfe
in Claudine
and Wait to Exhale
I wanna eat spaghetti
toppled with syrup
and find the meaning of family
with Elf
I want to learn the backstroke
and swim good in Pride
I wanna love Jenny like Forrest
and run myself to Freedom
I wanna dance dirty and
come out of my corner
I want to find where my broken is
and make it into A funny Story

Bud

Inspiration: And old friend
Word: Acknowledge

For a while now, I've wanted to write a poem to you,
not a thank you, but an acknowledgment.

I allow you to move me
similarly I use you
I look to you for compassion
honesty
lustful love- still remaining true
I asked you to acknowledge me too
recall our long summers
of warm baths
and morning stories
I love our morning glory
and how the wine sinks down deeper
when I'm riding you
We be, the three of, cool together
The thick warmth of Moscato
with the dry heat from you
sizzle me like I'm dancing the Rumba
or a Jazz Ballet on pointed toes
I love when I giggle
release openly
You're an old friend
I normally trust you
but I can never really give you my heart
nor give myself to you,
or give into you
allow you to abuse me,
too.
I will always be buck enough to conquer you
I won't get lost like the hopeless do
and confused
and look to you for life.

You're simply the reflection
of my sunshine
the afterglow
of my moonlight.

Bittersweet Poetry

Inspiration: A friend of mine who is a beautiful writer wrote an essay that brought up some old memories.

Word: Bittersweet 

I feel like I have stains on my cheeks

from where tears lay faithfully

Where they dream swim and breathe-

I drank bittersweet wine

twisted into rhymes rained down on moleskins.

My pen goes in. 

I’m writing about you again.

I’m sittin’ at home without you again.

But you where never here though-

That was just a miss-recalled memory

Caused by you haunting me-

I want you to hurt me,

Cut me wide op-en deep-ah

Bittersweet poetry

It’s the most emerging emergency

I’ve lost my head for you

Been lost in you-

Sometimes I scream out openly

In public with folks around

Sometimes I bang at my head in my sleep

Sometimes, there is no sleep.

Sometimes, you are my sleep.

Sometime, we should sleep

Together.

Arm in arm, head

On one pillow.

This can no longer happen now

That thought was before I took you

Took your breath

Made you dead-

See If only

you were out of my head

If only

I could get you out of my head.

I couldn’t kill the thought

so I took my heart instead-

Now I stare like lady Macbeth

And wish away blood stained

Hands

That only wanted to be laced with your

Hands

So openly I have no regret.

And ultimately there can’t be a me

Without you

So willingly-

I take my life too.

That One Time

Inspiration: Not sure, found this in my poetry book
Word/Phrase: One Time

I said I didn't care anymore
claimed that I was over it-
But I still become stilled,
by your presences
Shaken,
by your deliciously upsetting eyes
I still sometimes get tangled in the idea
of you holding me
in your arms
keeping me
with your eyes
like you did that one time...
you see my problem is,
I'm still stuck
on that one time.

Each day I Love

Inspiration: Thinking about the things I love.
Word: Love

I love how we all breed new facets of culture
I love moments
I love how language can create itself
I love God
I love how there is only one God
I love the many extensions
I love sweet babies
the one's who bring you flowers
I love the feeling of hot pavement-
pressed against my feet
I love sand between my toes
I love being footlose
and raw and bold
I love good taco meet
and a bubbly glass of wine
I love handbells
and wind-chimes
and soft tin roof water cries
I love the color of Jenni's hair-
in the summer time
I love apples-
the kind that type
I love my room to myself
at night
I love candles
and a rough summer rain
I love meatballs
and my brother's 'black folk' spaghetti
I love nice train rides
and the brown line
I love rooftops
and flat rocks
and stars
I love dreadlocks
and Cadillac Cars
I love man, men, and humanity
I especially love being womanly-
a woman
I love women, admire a good curve
I love people
and how we all swerve
I love music
a good 10 minute song
an acoustic guitar
I love a sexy rhyme
and a haunting rhythm
I love dirty dancing
and wiggling my bum
I love finding my breath-
at the end of a long song
I love breathing
and waiting to exhale
I love the way smoke looks-
in the sunlight
I love diggin' down into the earth
and taking in the moonlight
I love lovin' and I live to love
I love the feeling of my love
setting my soul free
I love that what I love
is an extension of me

Beauty Queen

Inspiration: Thinking about self-made celebrities.
Word/phrase: Beauty Queen

It'd be tragic if a beauty queen got HIV
(The others less worrisome)
HIV will undoubtedly kill her.

Would her followers bring her
flowers, roses, comments of love
Would they write on her wall
with pictures of red kisses-

Would they like her still
favor her still?

What if the beauty queen
was kissed with solemn red lips
turing her pretty butterscotch legs
black-

Dripping riled labors of lust
into the mouth of wanting patrons
would she still be the pretty
beauty queen...

or would her blackness turn her ugly
would her butterscotch become roily
a shot of overcast
dim, musty, and gray-

Would the beauty queen still wear her crown
or would her throne be brought down
by sour embraces of other dying arms-

Would her followers recast her
or band her with blocks

Would she no longer be lusted
Would her hair become brittle
her lashed burn off?
Would her eyes lose luster
and her lips become parched for polish-

Would she become- ordinary
or rather unacknowledged
Would she become present
but not seen
spoken of
but not heard?

It'd be tragic if a beauty queen
got HIV
the others are far less worrisome
HIV will undoubtedly kill her.

The Storm

Inspiration: A really beautiful Thunder storm
Word: Thunder

Thunder away my love song
Write to me a storm
Rain though layers of my brown
and create a music
a song of Nina
Let's bachata into the motherland
and shimmer like quick sand
Let's become beauty
lay in my worlds
Dazzle me with sunshine
Massage me with foreign oils
rub me down rapidly
Dance the ballet
Move to the greatest, freedom of rum
Let my insides come
Razzle my quick dance
Lust on pointed toes
Eroticize my everything
Linger
Allow yourself a stay
as my presence rocks you
Let my heart pound inside yours
down your inner drum
Let's wade in the water
create a ferocious wave
Watch my back ripple
down to the moonlight's shine
Let's hush on the current
and drop to the flow
Let's go beyond the trees
and become lightening
We'll be fire and ice
and you can slide down
the curves of my thighs
melt
all through me
Let's lubricate the earth
and create ourselves a bed
Pick for me a throne of flowers
tickle me with their innocence
hum through hurricanes
lose yourself in space
move me
with your lips
allow the solitude
to be our grace

Self

Inspiration: Late night realization 

Word:Self 

You have to get lost, to find yourself.

No Woman No Cry

Inspiration: My Favorite Bob Marley Song
Word: Cry *the words in italics are meant to be sung*

"No Woman No Cry"
Weeps
softly
tears
loud
shaking-saddened

I be sad now
real down now
My face aint so hot- right now

I be cryin'
engulfed by tears-
fillin' up the golf cost

Cryin',
I be, dyin' now
(feel like it)

Pain don't move softly
but slowly
tearin' me up,
I can't heal,
no more

"Here little darlin', don't shed no tears"
Shed, my blood shed
dull crimson red
I am (dead) now
head turned
eyes flicked
nullity etched deep down,
in my skin

I be,
hollerin' now
beggin' now

Won't you forgive
won't you-

Let me live,
please

I wanna breathe,
again
see,
again
him,
again
hurt joyfully,
again

"My fear is my only courage"
my fear is, my courage
so I guess I gotta push on through

Aint that what DuBois said
Aint that what, my Lord said

I suppose I outta be like them, then
and stop all this dyin'
and cryin'
and fussin and shit
and do what Ms. Oprah did-

Turn these crimson wounds
into my wisdom
and learn-
how to live with them

"Cus everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be alright"
Right?
Least' that's what a dear love of mine said to me,
said it would
all be             right
everything
(Which seems too hard to believe)

That's why I end up cryin'
and that's how I'm gone end up,
dyin'

Because I let my tears nurture the dead in me
I live regrettin' me
and I aint too proud to be
sometimes

Sometimes I wish I knew how to lie
or act real good
So I could live happy
and free

Be like that woman who don't know no cry
and learn to only surrender my life
to the beautiful things

Written April 13th and 14th

Brown, Green, and Yellow

Inspiration: Sitting in the grass
Word: Understand

There's peace in nature
a simplicity 
a stillness
vulnerability 

I rested my pride there
took off my head
and sat, mindfully
distanced myself from everything
closer still

I chilled
and watched,
prayed

Sometimes the bees fly
too close to my ear
and I tense and become afraid

But I let the idea wash from me
and appreciate the effortlessness
of my surroundings

no special lighting
or nicely paved pathways
just tall
untamed grass

brown, green, and yellow
hard, soft, and gentile

and small creeping insects
unapologetically exploring the visitors
of their home

I rest my pride there
humbled by the perfectness
balanced
and sweetly at peace
I understand,
that this is everything


Written April 9th-5:15pm

A Thug is?

Inspiration: None other than the trillest Nikki G

Word: Everyday 

Someone who’s weathered the storm

Swirled with the unruly

Lived unafraid

Ruthless and dangerous

Someone brave

who’s demanded the truth

Created justice

Died for passion

Angered the law makers

My mother.

Someone who’s been

Poked

Pricked

But not broken

Sometimes unspoken

The trillest

The loud

The Angry

The Proud

the preacher

definitely the school teacher

my uncle

the grocer

the maid

especially the slave

the people

my people

you

the everyday

Chloe Hates Butterflies.

Inspiration: Everything has a root.
Word: Cause.

A dear love of mine
hates butterflies
she runs
and yells
and curses
and swings
she hates-
more than anything
butterflies

I've watched
for some time now
as she's angered herself
by the sight of them

and wondered
what truly
does my dear love hate

Awkward.

Inspiration: Woah there, I truly hate awkward situations.
Word: Disgrace

I don't do well in awkward situations
I find myself rambling
talking out of turn
nervous

I often fidget
and alter my voice
deflect

I ignore
and attempt to refocus

I stare heavily away
I become impatient

I neglect presence
and dream myself away

I breathe
shortly
my hands
clam
my heart
shakes
me throat
chokes
my teeth
clatter

and I
am unsoundly
stirred
and impact-fully disgraced

Ordinary Brown Girl.

Inspiration: I think everyone asks themselves this in doubt at one point.
Word: Same.

Am I
a great

Does my tongue
have merit

does my soul
have soul

does my heart
have character

am I worthy
of knowledge

am I down
for the cause

do my hands
create greatness

does my mouth
speak trouble

does my movement
allow laughter

does my being
excite pause

Am I anything
of importance

am I meager

ordinary

never brilliant

unimportant

the same.

The Truth.

Inspiration: Welp, about a day ago this is exactly how I felt.
word: Confused.

I feel lost today
I'm awfully conflicted
down right confused

I know nothing
(nor how I should be used)
I feel rotten or senseless-

I want meaning
I dream for cause
I want to be known
learned of
and practiced

I want to be something
radical
stirred by purpose
I want the world to know this

I want to be forgiven
and loved
I want passion
the soul of Aphrodite

I want to feed the hungry
teach the world peace
I want to pray for all of those
lost and diseased
I want to love the loveless
heal the grieving

I want-
to hear my dad laugh.
(perfect and painless)

I want to do
I yearn to be
I'm rather confused
and I don't know
anything.

Sunday Morning

Inspiration: Psych Wards.
Word: Screaming.

Lost. Quick. Wilted. Withering-
softly,
slight dimension
subtle, subtle purr, doors
short-lock.
Lights Up.

The scene begins.
(but still real)

I stand there trapped.
Eyes, wandering eyes,
heavily upon my face.

Don't look up.
down, around forward-
Walk forward
knees feet                         all forward.

Next Scene.
doors open
feet coming
in
long l   o   n   g
whispers

click, click, splat- typing
the phone
rings
rings
talking- look at her
hearing- look at me
sight- of me?
My front face.
All the rest-
trapped.

Scene Three.
Rooms.
Square.
Plastic.
Rooms.

The scene switches.
There's a cry
blood                                shot
cry
so. much. crying.
denying reason.

My God.
My sweet lord.
Lay with me                      please
hold this hand
hand tugged.

Transition.
Now eat
eat
crazy!
eat
crazy?

But baby you're not           crazy.
Eat!
for points
eat.

Scene Four.
Lay.
Sleep now
Sleep real good now. (said slowly)


Next Scene.
Phone rings
again,
there's....screaming here.
Bills here.
Mocking-
Crying-
all here.
Lots                                of crying
praying
wishful praying                  here.

Be Strong
stay strong
you strong
she say-

I say-
but for how long
I anit strong
weak- but for how long
lone-ly
I'm  lone-ly
hold me                           please?
But they're staring
staring
looking
at me.

Moreover.
I'm scared
this man wants to give me.

a teddy bear.

Switch
I suppose I'm reasoning now.
Happy now? I'm said to be.


Scene six.
Phone call.
help still help
listen
I'm tryintah
listen.
Lumps-large lumps
drenched
face
drenched
gaze.

Seven.
Visitor.
Lump
Hardening.
Words shared.
Nothing said.

Eight.
Sleep
full day but
sleep
sleep
sleep
now.
There's screaming again
other folks in her head
screaming
together screaming
screaming screaming screaming.

I don't like it here.
I don't like it                    here
home. take me home.
I, just wanna go,
home.
know home.
be home.
what home
what home
what home.
home no more
she say
you alone.

I Stood Staring

Inspiration: A writing prompt I did with my poetry group. "Write about a time when you couldn't find the right words"
Word: Quietly

I looked at you.
quietly, still
impatiently, patient
staring, uneasily
around your eyes
not into them.
hused, and timid -
I wanted to pour my life into you
wholesomely.
I wanted you to know me.

I stood-
feet weary
arms stiff
I watched your mind
wander through mine
you weren't into this
couldn't commit to it-
didn't feel it

I lost breath,
all of it
but you had my head,
so-
I revolutionized a self in me
determined to say it, to tell you
I refrained
I wilted
respectfully away-
hoping
you might say it,
to me.

The Plan

Inspiration: This is actually my dream
Word: Fly

I want to be about 60, have white tinged dreads down my back, lifted on what makes me fly, and sit back and write poetry till I die.

I Would Love

Inspiration: How I feel
Word: Love

I would love-
more than anything
more than he loved Sandy
more than my grandfather loved Ramsey
even more than poets loved to rhyme,
To be able to tell the world everything-
shed my story
not for glory
but for peace

Hopes of becoming my words

Inspiration: Rambling about how I think my words flow
Word: Outward

Sometimes I just want to gather my words
I want to arrange them into squares
similar to my thoughts
and force them outward
like them too
I want to mingle and mangle
and tripple and dangle
until their relished
by the quickening of movement.
I want them to be excited by the dance
thrusted by it's output.
I want them to roast,
cook in awkward
B flat
cadillac
nothing of the word
works
There's a source,
something for theses words
worth listening to
work tirelessly too
do how I do
dance how I dance-
See I want these words to
freelance
write away quickly
fight and ride with me
I would like them
to be me

A Somber Thought

Inspiration: The power of the Vagina Monologues

Word: Massacre

There is a storm-

creating a ferocious 

massacre of death singing for freedom

from demons

I remember-

what life was like

when sunshine dined

and sipped on the happiness of the rippling

river

before the massacre,

before the earth ran aimlessly

into clouds of disaster

dismantling  the suns that were left

I recall-

A snowfall that didn’t cause stillness

But quaked a certain resemblance of

Purity

And kindled those yearning to have

The not yet had

I had once-

what was lost

I lost once

what was had

There is a storm now-

That has created a ferocious massacre

of death singing for freedom

from the demons 

Nothing Said

Inspiration: Thinking about writing something, if you have nothing to say.
Word: Said

If there is nothing to be said
what is gained from waisting words?
Does it offer reassurance
if I fill the air with lackluster speech,
often modeled by threatened sinners?
I never neglect
thoughtful notions for reason,
but am troubled in the understanding
of giving nothing, for nothingness.

No One Answer

Inspiration: Kinda how my brain works.
Word: Erratic

Often I have these erratic thoughts
I think of things not orthodox
and some seemingly left sided
Or I may think with roots-
fear and freedom
and inquire with
the heart of my desires
lusting only
to know knowledge
of the knowing
I search for meaning in meaning
and rely on the relevance of relevance
I often lie confused
in the circles of
my growing confusion
With gains in understanding
I become stricken by uncertainty
resolving my thoughts
to surrender to the infinite
possibilities