BF - Hello Poetry

BF Apr 2017

You don't need two of lots of things,
legs to walk on, eyes to see
But if this world needed two of something
it would be two people, you and me.

BF Apr 2017

Untitled

If you're not being fed
what you need,
find a new cook

BF Jan 2017

-

As I watch the day close its eyes, I remember
I forgot to think that thought.
Tomorrow, for sure
Tonight, I will sleep through this hunger

BF Jan 2017

Anchoring a Vagabond

I'd like to call this anchoring a vagabond,
those blue eyes guiding me home
Leaving isn't easy when you want to hold what you have
With you, I have found the music in silence

BF Dec 2016

Politics of denial

It's always the same story, never a true story
These stories of power and stories of glory
They fill me with rage, they fill me with fury

A culture unthreatened has room to grow,
while it beats down others, left with nowhere to go
They didn't "evolve," they were destroyed
Shoved into the crevices of history and into the void

It's the politics of denial,
A nation where those of color aren't even given a trial

I want to one day live in a country where the severity of the crime isn't determined by the color of your skin.
When with equality conquer? When will it win?

BF Oct 2016

First and last

I will never forget the night you held yourself above me, a vision I never thought I'd see.
We trembled.
We both shook of the storm to come,
the one that would quench the thirst of the living, bringing life to all that lives.
You tenderly took what I willingly gave and that was the beginning of no end.

BF Jun 2016

Untitled

Carpal bones project with a sick joy in feeling small
Wrap your hand around and notice the room within the width
The hold has grown so that contact is no longer necessary to move my feet
no longer analogous to mountains.
More like the wind they shift when summoned.
With the kind of malleability that can only come from being broken,
I must accept that while winds may advance, mountains change their course

I'm called to the pit to play an unfamiliar composition
with an instrument I've never before held
Wrists break under the weight of being a novice
in an orchestra of eyes all too knowing
And I can't make them listen,
Or maybe I can't make myself heard
Because there is a difference.