Saturday, September 12, 2009


Words of conviction are not suited
for those that don’t need to speak them.
But I miss my friend.
Proof that fate is not totally heartless
I beg forgiveness for what I do to you, for
all you’ve done is give light
I failed to return
I only sought to imbue you:
be you to you,
impart the joy of a heart thankful.
It is not that I was nothing
before you
but I believe I am something
because of you

In gratitude
I want to take up my blade
with your flag at my back
and charge.
Fight wars not fit for your army
battles unworthy of your sword
stand atop the shoulders of your enemies and
proclaim you my friend
until their ears ring with the truth that has saved me.
I want to crawl to the darkest of places within thee
sit there with the little girl inside
and listen.
Touch my fingers to hers and let that be all the light needed.

I want to know you like I thought I did.

Backstage after the show
with the smile wiped away

I want to know your story,
turn the pages
you let no one turn.
Give you water
for every drop you have poured into others
so that the empty is gone and your vessel is full again
until you are more
more than
more than Alice
as opposed to the feast you have become for all of us
I would feed you I want to cook for you
labor all day in my kitchen
place a meal before you
and feed your heart
until you laid back, soul full.

I miss my friend.

The who teaches me having compunction means not caring about the cost
giving orphaned souls absolution for their birthday
lost hearts compassion for Christmas
and any man or woman would love to hold your hand in thiers
I want your shoulder to mine
my fist pounding yours
I want to be what you have been
regardless of the fact that I wasn’t the one God gave superpowers
Grant amnesty to the ugliest thoughts
I want the wisdom to know not to fix you-
to find you at your worst and tell her
she is forgiven
for even thinking she needed to be.
Watch you heal every ear
I sever for you
and maybe learn to use mine.
Give you air without pressure
bestow enough wind to float on
without tossing you about in my storm
I will release you from my net
save you from suffocating in my bell jar
I will break the glass I pinned you down behind and
if I never see your face again
at least
you got what you wanted. for once.
I miss you.
There is an empty space in my ace’s place
and now
to make
Even if we weren’t alone
I would sing a song for you
and I assure you
I would sound HORRIBLE
but it would be okay
because I would be no less a fool
than I’ve been for trying to bottle divinity.
It would be easier to live
without you
if you didn’t live within me
but if need be
what we love
we set free.
This poem
is grateful
for your song.
I have learned
that words of conviction are not suited for those
that do not need to speak them.
That true enlightenment means not catching the
but being allowed in its light.


Came in
trying to figure it out
and got done up
trying to be down
give me less than a moment
to say I'm taken
color yourself mistaken to say

I'm anything but nothing
if I am not something of importance to you,
80 percent of me

every drop necessary
rhythm in every rainstorm I have ever heard
every soft, strong wet wave
crashing at the hard rock of my shoreline
I cannot make you love me
but I will not make you regret

perfect imperfection
intricate simplicity

I wish to be come indigenous
to your land
become the army
loyal only to my country
a proud national
native of my sovereign state
I am in it with you
right down between the letters
in the thick of it, with you
no room to move

even if I wanted to
it would just be to get closer
I am in it
deep, no exit strategy
no choice but to fall further
in which case there is no choice
to begin with

I take a pack of you
slap hard
before I unravel, slide one out from the inside
slip it between waiting lips
ignite, pull,
Feel you warm in my chest
lips press with intensity
pull, release
watch you glow with each drag
pull, slow, slower
pull, hold
gently dip your cherry, watch it fall gracefully
kiss pull suck
holding firm and soft
“Let go” is not a language I speak
holding you within my fingers like a
surgeon mother
pull, blow
your curves redefine smoke
I lower you
raise you to my face
pull, tug, hold
hold tighter, don't let go
don't leave me
squeeze, pull, squeeze;
Head swimming, brain bathed in bittersweet
holding you, I grant you release as I give you to the sky
slide you out again,
and begin.

Monday, July 20, 2009


I promise you that you will claim this armor from my dead body, and no sooner. I dare you to think you could find a chink, because my armor is flawless. I beg God to close this heart, and remove the wait so that I can move. I will not lie and say that love isn't real, but I'm no longer convinced it's elevation, just a diversion. Sugar coated subversion created to cause pause and nothing more. I got tired of buying lies and that's why you don't see me in the store anymore.

I spend my nights in morning of a time when I cherished days. There is no solace in the feel of sun on my skin; even as I breathe, I asphyxiate. Suffocating in the oxygen I waste away in starvation with my belly full. I have sustained injuries from the long term effects of improper emotional allocation, i.e. misreciprocation of affection resulting in an addiction to addition. I will not succumb, never again numb to shallow obligation. Better to die a lonely man man then to take the wrong hand so effective immediately, I hereby tender my resignation to love. This heart is uninhabitable, structurally unsound, so there will no longer be any vacancies.

So to those who love their charity cases; leave me be. Quit looking because honestly, you don't even find me attractive, just cute-code for 'convenient because you are to scared to go for what you really want.' Leave me in the rummage, I need not your empty self-serving attempts to salvage this savage into something you could condescend to like.

I need to adhere to purpose and sever the malignant tumor that is my self pity. I am convinced that anyone who wants in only wants to turn you out-walking away with what they wanted, leaving this house haunted with the ghost of who I thought you were. I don't doubt love, I just rarely see it occur, and I have neither the time or the patience to chase dragons or unicorns, leave the needles in their haystacks, do not wait for me to grab that brass ring whoever you are wherever you are, I will not be waiting or looking but I do wish you well. I'm not saying love isn't heaven, but I will make note that it and hell have the same number of letters. And I should have known better, avoided the representatives, the crescent shaped harbingers, feeding me hope flavored hindrance with a slight hint of deliverance, impossible to hold them responsible as I don't get to be a victim after the first bite. I can't blame them if I accepted the invite, laid back for the long kiss goodnight the left me a dead man walking. So thank you but no thank you, keep walking; what I want isn't waiting in someone else's hand, I bare no hatred towards women and no, I don't want a man. I won't convince you to not love but right now I'm not a fan, what I want I want and don't expect you to understand, your comprehension isn't on my list of demands so please, return to your vessel, pull your anchor, and leave me be, here on my shore.

I can see so very clearly, having pulled the wool away, cognizant of the windmills that I once chose to slay; what dreams I've had have left me, all of them gone to stay, I had set out to write another love poem, and realized I have nothing to say.

Thursday, June 18, 2009


We go back like screen 'do's', like rushing home in time to hear Lion-O yell, "HOOOOO!!!" We go back like the first Velcro shoe, like back when back when library dues where all you had to pay. Like fetching ugly metal skates, back when tables had love-meaning both parents and hot plates, when catching that street light meant you were out to late and mama had that whoopin ready right on time. We go back like "Who your people?" Like getting from under those covers Sunday to get up under that steeple and you better keep your mouth shut.
We go back like shirts with gators, when we wanted to be lovers not haters and 'like' was a commitment, 'no' was a death sentence, and 'maybe,' just meant you wanted to keep your options open. Like hopin your folks was cool with you staying over Kenny's but you couldn't take any chances, so you called from his crib and gave his momma the phone. We go back like 'Conjunction Junction, what's your function? Hooking up words and phrases and clauses.' Back when P.E. taught us to fight the powers that b.e., and brothers and sisters had causes
Like joining hands around Virginia trees, when cooties was the worst disease, and chicken pox or the flu meant you had the day off. Meditation was you on your back with your face facing sky and my friends and I pondered the ultimate questions of the universe: why are we here? Could the super friends beat up the devil? What ninja turtle is that cloud shaped like? If I ate while on the toilet, how long would it really take?
Like snickering with my brother an hour after bedtime, knowing full well your mother would bust through that door and administer the proper motivation for a goodnight's rest. And I would do anything to go back in time and make myself realize that my little brother was my best friend, and still is.
When watching Sunday afternoon kung fu theater gave you a hope that bully was gonna catch you on the wrong damn day and get more than lunch money. Back when your woman, your honey, the love of your life didn't even know you existed, and would not until the 11th grade at a house party where she's drunk and already seeing someone and besides, she's 'always seen you as a friend.'
We go back like bad promises; like when we swore with spit or blood soak palms that nothing would tear us apart and go from friends to faces in the hall to phone calls holidays when we see each other's mothers. When we were so close our mothers became each other's mothers, and we evolved from friends to boys to cousins and nothing could break that, not even the sibling crush. We go back like regrets, like when all we wanted from the world was everything we haven't seen yet and only now notice that list never seems to get shorter. We go back like mayo sammiches and sugar water.
Where nothing tripped you out more that Optimus dying, Thriller, "Luke, I am your father" and E.T.'s big ass eyes. Multitasking was being it in freeze tag, ice cream headaches were your jetlag and getting online meant you were in P.E., or getting ready to go to lunch. Myspace, was my corner in four square or tetherball, twitter was something that happened when you sneezed, and facebook, meant you fell asleep in class-again.
If today was not forever tomorrow would be, and right now was all we could see other than the ice cream man from 10 miles away, a pickle, red kool-aid or some sun tea if we were thirsty and if we had to, a the nearest backyard faucet would suffice.
Like when Tasha kept punching you, and neither of you knew why, and Kiesha only played with the boys and no one knew why, James loved double dutch and no one knew why, and we didn't even care, we was all cool. Unity was an unwritten rule and even if we fought, we were down before the moon came up.
Tank tops were not called 'wife beaters' and for that matter most fathers weren't either. Our chat room was the classroom before teacher walked in or the back of the bus; and you could at least carry the cardboard or the boombox if you couldn't break like us- which meant I carried the cardboard or the boombox-either way, you were accepted. Back when we squeezed the day to the last drop, stretched out on cars, rocks and trees that didn't belong to us and savored our reward; a tired orange sun, leaving calming fire and diamond encrusted velvet in its wake, promising and the same if not a better chase tomorrow.
We go back like dreams of a future worth looking forward to; and despite the ambition 11-15 instilled he never got that rocket pack, she never got that flying car, you never kissed Jessica Salter and some of us, we never got 34.
We go back like prom 94', and even though you did good all night, on that last dance Suzette noticed, and you hoped that smile wasn't out of pity. We go back before global villages, where there was a local 'Our Block' in every suburb, hood, ghetto, borough, favela, town and city, when 3rd grade ugly turned into end of 8th grade pretty and blossomed into end of the summertime and 14 fine, and she ain't even hearing you now, because she always knew she was beautiful.
We go back like hand to hand biometrics, like being addicted to Rubik's Cube, Tetris, and each other. We go back 'we not leavin if you not comin', like we all make a stand or we all just keep runnin, and when we're done we find each other. We go back like bonds unbroken, love unborn or unspoken and the days we held tighter once they were gone, we go back because we all need to, because it helps us, movin' on.


run run run run is all I ever seem to do even when I sit still all I ever do is run to run from run around can't stop must keep moving must not fail must not know must not say must not see must not feel must not let her or them must keep moving they are coming it is almost here it will not be found no one will look so keep running lie and tell the others that you are looking for anything other than a place to hide so that no one will know not even me must keep must not let me find me must not know what will happen what can happen don't know what will happen what can happen don't know don't want to find out don't want to know just want to hide but can't even hiding spaces lie you must keep moving take only what you need only what you can carry don't hold on to anything nothing will stay and not if you keep moving thoughts are itchy all a mess everything is such a mess don't know where to start must clean up can't do it right now just keep going no time for anything not nothing keep low in the trees some of them can see you from up high just go just go you'll know when you get there


just get there


just get there


just get there


just get there find a way you move them out of the way keep moving there keep moving they are hunting it is hunting it does not play well it will breath on you, it will know your scent it will swallow you whole you will not even get a chance to cry it only eats quiet little boys none of them scream they all fall apart so well between it's teeth can smile when it eats can only choo choo at little dead boys that are still are still alive they have such sweet souls so delicious so so delicious run little dead boy just keep moving to not stop keep running running get sweeter don't change stay afraid stay afraid of afraid stay sweet for teeth and keep running, don't stop just go just go and don't go where I can find you just keep moving stay under find dark places cold dark place find cold dark wet places wet from not water just keep moving and do not stop for today just hide in the running laugh in the running make them smile in the running never stop moving do what you can to move even when you are still

Saturday, January 10, 2009


Every once in a while I can still taste the last word I should have said to you. I try to swallow it since I never got a chance to get it out but it stays stuck in my throat because I choked the first time I wanted to say it
When the moon is full, I say to myself I'm gonna call you up and pardon every thought I held captive and you're gonna come back and it'll be alright but then whatever song I heard that inspired that notion ends, and I then go back to what I'm doing, ashamed to look at the phone failing once again to escape the gravity of self pity.
Or maybe it's more than that.
Maybe I'm not saying as much as I should have because you needed to stay
gone. Maybe instead of assuming this is a storm we could weather this is my subconscious telling me our heart and soul's ties need to be severed.
Maybe you just needed to be on your way, maybe what we had was what we had and honestly, now that I've taken the love goggles off I can see that you were gonna leave anyway. I see now that I should have saw the signs that said you were clearly looking for the one marked 'exit'. I know I did what I did but now that I think about it loving someone is not a jones you could easily shake, so maybe you had more help than you let on.
Maybe you got what you wanted.
Maybe the woman that existed next to me only existed next to me as the embodiment of you having something to prove. Maybe once you got what you needed from me what you saw then wasn't what you need to see to stay with me and our summer turned into the coldest winter ever, prompting you to leave me.
This among all the other reasons I've hypothesized makes sense.
I have to say I pity you. I mean the real you sat bound so long inside of you she was obviously upset at what you settled for, we both knew I wasn't your normal type and
I've heard that before
but we can only blame me for the fact that you stayed. If I wasn't who I am on the inside it wouldn't have convinced you to stay as long as you did, but as I said before, it wasn't really love that kept you home those nights. I have to say that the only thing worse than being paranoid is staying paranoid though there is a sweet glee in being right. Still, there are some nights where I miss our warm denial, as opposed to the cold truth. Then again that's why I have a jacket. Because when it gets down to it, I would rather stay by myself, then love alone, standing next to you.


I live my life from
and in exchange for services
I get the next day
which means
to pay the
and no matter how many tomorrows I get
they go so
before the check comes the money's spent
and all I got to show for it
is a kitchen drawer full of yesterdays that I can do nothing with.
applied for assistance but I only get help sporadically which prompts
me to stop
I give up waiting to saved by someone who
and bleeds
just like me; gave up on looking for someone
else's light to guide me out, never been one for waiting anyway.
decided that since I'm on borrowed time it's best I hurry up and live
this life now before someone comes back around asking for the money. I
need to act like the money's here instead of writing a check I can't be
sure I can cash because I'm still sore from the last time I found out I
was wrong.
From now on all bets are off, and nothing is anything
anymore but if you need to know anything about me, know this: I come
from a place of not
I come from a place of no better than
and that was the
part of this poem that rhymes.
I will no
longer write to recreate what you see
when you do take notice
sometimes even when I ask you and you tell me
you're talking about.
will spend my life from this moment in prison behind blue bars in a white cell
receiving a temporary pardon or
better yet
some time in the yard every
time I push out a real piece; when I give you some soul food
as opposed
knee jerk chicken.
From now on I am the 3rd word in a sentence of
sixteen and I care not if you forget me so long as you don't let the
thought perish. I will give a damn and keep some on me in case you need
one. If I find out I know more than you then
that we are on
even keel before our time together is done.
I will quit
waiting for
someone to love me because when you think about it, if you don't love
you enough to feel good about being alone then
you are cheating on
yourself with
you're giving your heart to,
and I for
one am tired of being an adulterer.
I will live my days as a slave to
the idea of my own freedom, wearing the whelps on my back with pride.

So if you need to know anything about me look at yourself, there is
some of me in all of you, and vice versa. I will pay what I owe, for
what I have I done, and at the end of day when my time is nigh I'm
checking out in cash, not credit. I'm not promising anything other than
nothing and five seconds from now because that is all I have. Don't ask
me about tomorrow, or further. I got no future. I've already lived it.
Out of all I've got left I've got the past, and Lord knows I have
enough trouble letting that go. Out of all I have left, what I have,
what I know I have is today; today works.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008


Do not forget those who remember you.
There are people in your life
who love you for who you are
what you do so
do not forget those who remember you.
Fairweather friends are cool
when the suns out,
but the rain will
and though they may return
when there's money to burn,
when the spotlight's back on
those who care
won't care
what you have to spare
to them
it's been a
to have known you.
Believe me it's not who
says they love you
but who has
shown you
so I reiterate,
do not
those who remember you.
I know we live in a world where love is a precious commodity,
where we turn away he and she,
hope costs too much, but the dissapointment's free,
and kindness is hard to come by or understand
I also know that when I was
at my
lowest point
there was always someone
so in appreciation of those who have helped to spare me from a worser fate
I can do less than reciprocate,
no one who rushes to my aid deserves to wait.
I am thankful for all the people God has sent to me
on purpose,
never accidentally and I realize
that no matter how big your wings are
without the wind.
You see one of the greatests gifts I've ever received is favor.
Every ounce of benevolence I've received I truly savor and therefore
I love my neighbor
respond in kind everytime, I even pay it forward when I can when I can afford it;
not only do I let a good deed go unpunished, I reward it.
So if I have any say so over the way history records it
let it be made clear-
those who have done for me
in the spirit of sincerity
will never leave my memory.
So do remember those who refuse to forget you.
I am not asking that you do anything above your means
but what I mean
is that if
God's will be done
it shouldn't be so hard for us to be there for one another.
You being my sister
You being my brother
I suggest
we step
outside ourselves
and love like he intended; we have
nothing else to lose
but each other.

Thursday, March 06, 2008


The Man in My Basement  by Walter Mosley

A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest Gaines

Song Of Solomon by Toni Morrison

The Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

The Souls Of Black Folk by W.E.B. DuBois

The Miseducation Of The Negro  by Carter G. Woodson

What order would you read these in?


Sweetie baby I’m sorry

I know you’re busy I

I do not mean to bother you 

I mean I know you’re

gone I know

you got on that plane


I know you got home safe

because I prayed you got home safe

and I know you’re on your way to work

I know you’re probably at work

working hard you

always work so hard

sweetie baby I know you’re away from me

I know you’re not here

because I don’t see you

and I tried not to look

but I did

and I tried not to cry but I did

and I know you working I know you’re busy

busy being away

busy being you being mine

I don’t want to bother you

I don’t want to interrupt you

I do not mean to take up to much of your time

I know you’re gone

I know you’re away

sweetie baby I am sorry

I am so


very sorry

sweetie babie but I just wanted to tell you you’re still here

Monday, November 05, 2007


I name my three favorite

artists; God, your mother,

and your father.

I name my favorite

food; I love you, marinated

in just your voice.

I name my favorite

dessert; you…yeah pretty much

you, yeah…yeah…yeah.

I scream, you scream, we….

OK mainly I scream, yeah

but so what SHUDDUP!

I beg me permission

to say it aloud; that I

want to let you.

I wake, seeing you

in my t-shirt. Wow. No wonder

this one is tight.

I lived for your smile.

You died each day to ensure

That is all I saw.

The child is the father

of the man. I am truly

a bastard.

I return to my

hometown; Unwanted,

population me.

You got pretty on

yo face; I would give you a

towel but fuck that.


I got dreams that say they missed you. They each say that they tearfully remember the day that my imagination sent you away and when asked why it said and I quote “for the simple fact that I cannot do better than that.” And my heart stopped you on the way out saying here, just in case you’re gone awhile here’s a key to let yourself back in and my soul gave you a picture of itself just so you’d know me when you saw me again and then, both of them cupped their hands to your ears and said “listen,” so that you above all others could here me, above my voice.

But now that you are here and life has had it’s way and done away with me, I have become emotionally inarticulate so, how do I tell you that the night we met is the day I made pecan praline my favorite, the first day I rode my bike off the block and found a different way back home and skated all the way back to my father without him having to catch me was the last day of may and every surprise birthday I held for myself was the moment I realized I would die for something the first time I made someone laugh, the very first time I figured out what words were, the first time I figured out what words could do so of course you became my first poem. That time I jumped in the pool went all the way to the bottom and realized I can’t swim every Saturday morning I woke the earliest to grab the remote and thereby achieve total supremacy, bathroom break be damned the moment I realized I would be better off alone if I couldn’t find anyone like you the day I found anyone like you the day I found out you existed, the first time we met before night we really met and I shudder to think that I almost missed it the first time I tried, the first time I lied for the right reason the time I held you while you slept and you allowed me the honor of letting my hand sojourn across your belly. Every time I woke up pissed because I had to get up and go to school and realized-it’s Saturday that you felt like the prayer before and after the prognosis. Like not asking for permission, like receiving permission. Like a blessing from God, like when I hear the Lord say he loves me in your silent smile like the reason you’re supposed to rage when the light dies like the way you draw your sword from your soul and slice through the skin of my inhibition just so that I could bleed out my regrets, you are the first time I fumbled around the back of mind, found the switch and turned on my imagination. You are the first time I touched my tongue to a 9-volt battery and then the second time because that shit felt good for the strangest reason. Like my bike the first day with out training wheels you taught me to push and help me learn balance. You’re the first time I got away with it, and if you were here to let it slip to your ear I would tell you are the first person I ever want to tell and your voice is the last thing I want to hear I want to bestow upon you my gratitude for this glow along with this odd grin I’ve been told I now possess that sneaks across my face when I’m looking. I remember loving you as black licorice; and even then you were sweet, bold and so intoxicating that my very tongue just wanted to hold you forever, and it was then I learned to appreciate you for who you are, though even now I am a novice, willing to learn. I remember you being 3 am on every December 25th because technically that’s Christmas, you became the anticipation between each gift as well as over the next 364 days. I remember making sure my sister and brother got to bed, watching them sleep, falling in love with their peace and I knew then I would do anything to protect and preserve yours. I would wait for my mother to come home late from work, fix her a plate and as I watched her eat in peace I knew what it meant to be devoted to you. I listened to her girlfriends cry on her shoulder and swore I’d never become the man they spoke of though I do now acknowledge my potential. I remember the time my Alabama born father was so upset with me he didn’t even want to beat me, and it was in his stare I learned I would do anything for your forgiveness. I remember him always telling me to take care of my mother after the divorce, and I then learned that I only wanted you safe, and happy, even if it is not with me though I pray to God you do not leave. You were the first time I heard a good guitar riff and felt it in the back of my neck. I remember hearing the first song I ever truly loved and discovered what it would be like for you to hold me. I only aspire to offer you my name because every sweet vowel and consonant of yours is set in between the letters of my DNA so I could only hope for us to intertwine and become our own double helix and become the genetic blueprint for a love supreme. And still I ponder, on how to tell you that they told me that if I had to live without you yellow and blue would refuse to make green, that everything about you is love; and all the warm spaces in between, that flowers want to place you gently in their hair that if beauty was a place it would not be so without your soul there, that you have reminded me with your touch that I have skin that my heart and soul are happy you are back again I asked myself how do I begin when I realized-There are no words.