I think I'll buy a book
maybe an autobiography
of a young black kid
who made it big;
and urban statisticians
who had him in the pen
a shallow grave
with pages of preparation
when failure became
a formidable foe;
a social sledgehammer
back into his basement
with the rodents,
and piles of unpaid bills
and diplomas on the wall
framed in gold and mahogany
and photographs of fleeting
scenes of success
banished by fate?
am I destined to be
old, gifted and poor
like my fathers before me?
what dreadful deed
has sealed my destiny
with such savage sorrow?
maybe my hero,
the young black kid
in the book
I'll buy tomorrow
who made it big...
will have some answers...
~ P (Pablo)
You are the roast beef I have purchased
and I stuff you with my very own onion.
You are a boat I have rented by the hour
and I steer you with my rage until you run aground.
You are a glass that I have paid to shatter
and I swallow the pieces down with my spit.
You are the grate I warm my trembling hands on,
searing the flesh until it's nice and juicy.
You stink like my Mama under your bra
and I vomit into your hand like a jackpot
its cold hard quarters.
Because we do not say what we ought to say
It's slipping out of our hands, life is going astray
Afraid to speak our mind, the truth bitter and harsh
We have found peace that compromises with the curse.
Because we do not act the way we ought to act
We have got a peace that keeps devils intact
Afraid to raise our voice against the evil's might
We bargain for a peace that perpetuates our plight.
Because we do not dare the way we ought to dare
Light is snuffed out, we live in nightmare
Afraid to battle out the monsters that loom
We settle for a peace that leads us to doom.
Today we heard a man’s voice
coming from the whip-cracking static:
he says it’s not that expensive
to buy a star.
You laughed in chimes and told me
that there are some things
not worth owning. You own so many hearts,
but a star is a silly purchase.
A worthless nothing to you.
We lie together that night, a small hotel,
riverside highway on our way to the moon,
and your skin clutches mine
a hungry animal, fleshing out to my own,
all shivering lust. You are aloof, I know it, you
don’t even care. The lies of love
are on your face, I can feel it.
What I might trace there
if only I could find my fingertips,
tracing the contours of your lips.
“That diamond necklace I bought you
looks beautiful at night,” you say.
But honestly it’s choking me,
weighing me down as you breathe
these words into my lungs.
The hideous transgressions that limit
the capacity of your soul, and mine--
my heart, captured there, fleeting
until the next breath bursts.
I feel like them, all the rest,
the girls you pretended to love
the girl I am pretending will change you.
If they didn’t come back to you,
hungrier than before,
you didn’t do your job right.
It’s the way you think,
what I can see on you every day.
I may not be any different than the rest,
but I know better than the best of them.
Like now: I can see you, the heart of stone
the ice of your face on fire
as we move from room to
In my sultry silver skin, bathed in moonlight,
we sat beneath those stars, and you said,
“I bought one for you, named it for you,
I will forever keep it for you.”
A ball of ice and gas and fire is no longer
a worthless nothing
so long as it spells l.o.v.e.
in nauseating simplicity, no effort
on your part. You don’t have to choke
the words down, cough them up,
until next year. But you’ll already have gone.
A star is finally worth something
because I will always be worth nothing.
I hate being sucked into this circadian rhythm,
a habitual love and lie. If only
I could look at you
if you own half the stars in the sky,
who the rest still shine for.
Who am I to question why
the hotdog has its name?
I'll eat all I'm ordered to
(besides, they say it's good for you),
but still, what sort of dog is used
that's born with such a shape?
Quick, before my stomach turns
and opens hungry eyes,
I'll relish sweetest ignorance
of what my meal's comprised.
I see you everywhere,
Real or not.
Either way it's good enough.
Just thinking of you should be
But it really isn't
For Christmas I'll ask for you
And my New Years resolution will
Be to become
Good enough for you,
Good enough for love.
In the past I wasn't quite there,
And instead of embracing the feelings
I shoved them down to the bottom of my purse,
That way they couldn't be reached.
Memories clutter my mind,
And the hourglass has filled with sand from
The beach we went to.
There are no more grains,
A year has passed.