...on this Saturday afternoon there is a street fair in Greenwich,
You step off the 1 train at Christopher Street station and all along 7th Avenue,
the little sidestreets, Bowery, Commerce, give me that old Dutch sensibility
Street vendors and street people eating, laughing, trying on five dollar leather clogs
On a day that is slightly drizzling, we pause to consider the trees
In a flash I understand the world you come from when you say you normally stay on the East side of Lower Manhattan, you start counting the colors on the street and ask where all the Spanish people at?
there is this reversal, a turnaround, a recognition in me that binds me to you, when I realize you can teach me how to be young and dance with my hips, when I know that you can give me what I've craved for so long, freedom-the opportunity to face all my fears- and the chance to be a wild thing. I am nineteen, for the love of God, and I never got the chance to rage and abandon all cerebral intelligence and just live in the realm of the senses! But for now, I'll settle for to know myself better and to live without apology-but of course, there is a certain fear with taking that step and giving all of myself to you.
Yet I find myself considering it as we walked with your arm around my shoulders and my hands on an eight dollar bag of Swedish candy. I know you know the effect you have on people, other women especially, I see the way they eat you up with their eyes. But then again I'm only beginning to notice the same kind of attention from men as I walk down the street-though I owe that to you too, giving me enough confidence in my body-to sway a little bit more.
And the fact that you repeat thoughts and ideas that have been constantly looping in my own mind makes me believe we are on the same wavelength. Like when the lights suddenly flickered off on the train and you glanced up at me and said how much you love it when that happens? Goddamn, it sent my head spinning.
And now we are together, supposedly. But of course I always keep in the back of my mind the possibility that everything you are is a lie and you could wake up one day and say I don't want you anymore and just walk out my life with both hands in your pockets.
If that happened now, I could say fuck you and move on.
But if I love you the way I want to love you and the way I long to be loved, all of that mind body spirit crap, a piece of me would just break and float away forever.
I guess that's a risk I might have to take one day, and I find myself considering it as we race each other to get burritos and later on I flick some water in your face and you just stare at me with a faint smile on your lips. So, at this moment, I am too much with you. It scares me when I think of what I might feel for you, and so I am on the edge of a precipice here-wondering whether or not to run with you.
old makeup spilled on my floor
dirty clothes strewn on my floor
You can hardly see the carpet for all the clothes carelessly being trodden on. Blue holiday lights are strung around the mirror. I am watching Andy Warhol eating a hamburger on a new, thousand dollar laptop, slick-as-a-whistle, paid with a swipe. For the past six months, I have had less than four hundred combined checking and savings, and that number dwindles by the day. I have no groceries, but I've got fistfuls of orange prescription bottles, and I was handing pills out like candy (but they are needed, much and every day).
Where did all these bills come from?
Suddenly, it costs money to breathe.
Eating? Oh pshaw, that costs money, and the store's six blocks away.
I pout on my throne of dirty cotton, thinking I get what I ask for, when I ask, and it always comes--at a price! It's always over a hundred dollars more than I could spare and brings bad luck, moreso than a couple broken mirrors would, even if they were smashed over a the back of your mother's black cat.
"Quick! Let's do designer drugs with the paltry change given by our parents! I wouldn't feel like I wasn't nothing, nothing at all," I say, batting my eyelashes, "Wouldn't they feel proud of our feelings of entitlement to the greater things in life and consciously responsible adult-like decisions?"
I crack open my father's checking account with the swipe of a magnetic strip,
it makes me seem responsible when he sees I just use it for pills and foodstuff.
(I prove I love him and he loves me this way)
Now, together, we will buy strawberries with his money,
they must be four dollars, at the very least, then we eat like the bourgeoisie (!)
I kiss the cheeks of my reflection in the bathroom
tousling my hair, tipsy, as I touch up my face by
licking the tips of eyeliner up like a cat's little tail,
the ends of eyes, coated with eyeliner as black as
my tightest velvet pants and dark, dark heart.
We go together.
You should move to a big city
and I'll come call, prepaid, with
a voice that is thick and ripped,
chattering of sugar-white beaches
as I cross the seas all on a plane,
all the while drunk on red wine,
twirling my fingers around, with
bags under eyes, a little anemic
(I think it adds to the glamour)
We will go out to a dimly lit place
We will go out dancing then after
I will put on dab perfume under my ears and on my wrists,
I will wear black tights for pants, but first, do a little cocaine
and you will fasten the clasp on my silver necklace tonight,
while I smoke, before helping me put on my favorite fur
And we will go see Andy, at the factory
I hear he's doing something
with that Basquiat fellow (!)
I will go follow false luxuries, come with me.
I will gamble with you in Monte Carlo or Las Vegas,
just as long as you pay my rent at $695 per month,
until I die, or something else.
A captain always goes down with his ship
There is honor in that, valor
Guns blazing as you sink, defiant to the end
I never understood where they got the courage
Found a cause worth dying for
Why not be captured?
Isn't prison better than death?
Those Lords of the high seas, they always seemed so confusing to me
I think I understand it now though
Staying attached to a lost cause
Because when you invest so much of yourself in something
It is really, really hard to let it go
So despite odds that most likely will crush you
You battle on, heels dug in, back to the wall
This love is a poison, and she will be the death of you
But you continue fighting the good fights; it is all you know how to do
we're here for you
if you ever need us
humans, we're greedy and we fuss
we're all in pieces
you can land here and see us believe in jesus
most dont have much but can give you a twenty dollar bill
most drive fast
most pop pills
i wouldnt, but im forced or told to
i cant tell the difference, just do the notions i'm told to go through
got alot of love
got alotta respect
for those who've come before me
im grateful for my neck
aint nothing next
it's funny how comfortalble i am with not sleeping
and surely i know it's healthy to be eating but,
i havent eaten a really meal in months
my mom never noticed, in fact, nobody does
this worlds full of some that make weird decisions,
then they mess up and we're just supposed to listen
i got alot of simple probblems, from scribbles to songs from bills to concerts,
but there's one problem , that always gets me
its how at the end of the day kids go hungry
and what abot how nobody listens to those who speak softly?
I wish most days I didnt drink my coffee but my problems never come off me, infact
least with glue you just pick at it and usualy it goes away
i want to stay ...in a safe place, I wish the world wasnt a paperchase, I wish I was bass, I wish I had no taste, to just hide and hide inside some days that will be my escape
Life is a staircase,
That you've just got to
Take the first step.
And so I did,
I took the first step
And then the second
And then the third,
And soon I was on my way
Flying my way up the staircase.
Then one day,
Unbeknownst to us,
We find out that
Was a paradox,
Like the one in inception?
And then we just
To get back up again.
You're present when I hear this song.
As if the moment in time and unknown
One hears the sound of water that you hold so dear.
Washing away regret and all that you fear.
Its rhythm flows across tired thresholds to level time.
As you ebb from your story's past and aspire to climb.
Its tempo is upbeat, strong, and urgent.
As becomes and your gift to others becomes more fluent.
Its tone is carefree, deep and abundant.
As your voice reveals its depth
Showing your view's vibrance
The song takes its time to bring us through.
As you savor moments and seek significance
in everything you do.
C. . .
I hope you
like this song,
Oh, I hope I got it right.
I felt your presence,
heard this song,
wrote this poem,
Arms at her sides
Hangin' like a noose loop
Radio music sporadic static
Choking air waves
Her heart is locked up
She keeps it in the bottom drawer
Her house is surrounded by chain-link
Shes too good for you
She has a picnic alone
Feeding crumbs to the ants
So grown up and independent
I thinks its just chemical imbalance
Are you still waking up
To the shotgun blast alarm clock
Sleeping in the pitch black
Washing dishes burning matches
Watching television addict
To have it all figured out
You'll choke on the pieces
Dog on a short chain
Too good for me
Too busy curing cancer
And feeling sorry for yourself
Someone told me what you said
I was a piece of shit hick
A drug addict rat
Maybe when I grow up
I've got a strong chin
Been hit many times before
There's the door
It started as a joke we all laughed at the thought
of slanging coke
or passing cops with a whole bag of thizz
cheesing out ya window, just like Andre and Mac Dre in the Bay and Valley Joe
But now the game got real
I'm broke and choked for skrill (skreel) and this sandwich place can't even contend with the dough I'd make if I dealed
But who could I trust and who would squeal, make me have to peel out in my whip as I dipped
moved cribs and changed homies
Do I have a soul of a drug dealer or one for slapping on pepperoni to a sandwich for another zombie
Do I have the soul of a drug dealer?
A short rap inspired by Andre Nickatina's "Soul of a Coke Dealer"
Your eagerness is uncontainable,
Your eyes roam freely
Unable to resist bouts of flitting pleasures.
Even as it bleeds with remorse at times,
Your heart nurtures forbidden desires...
Unbecoming of one bound by marriage vows.
A face of beauty is hard for you to ignore.
It beckons you,
And you drift away so easily, lost...
Left with no qualms on complications
Shattered relationships prick you like a pin.
Still, you let your fickle heart rule,
And you succumb…..’til your needs
Have been calmed for the moment.
You feel sorry. Once more, your heart bleeds.
“This insatiety has got to end,” you tell yourself
Over and over, but it has become a habit…..
For later on, your eyes would roam again
With such eagerness,
Unable to resist those that excite you,
Unable to break free from this perfidious cycle……
Sally A. Bayan