Our future was built on revolution.
A mythos of courageously vanquishing the empire.
Such is the birthright of our citizens.
Our history created us in its image.
Villains seeking conciliation
must bear the title and charge
of treason.
Wielders of swords and rifles
stand immortalized in every town square.
Liberty or Death proclaims the stone and bronze
in which they are cast.
What will be the names of these great black men,
who crush the oppression of the old revolution?
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
It’s hard to see how you might tame a heart
Considering how we poke and **** it
Fact is watching mine is not exactly at the top of the list
I’m tempted to bring it out in public,
Into the heat or under the moon.
Fluttering to the rhythm of the earth.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
Tenuous at best
This equilibrium I find myself clinging to.
Dangling from the earth by my cranium.
Watching as others, like birds must see fish,
flail about the universe,
feet bound to the firmament above us.
For us
it resembles suffocating
or haphazard design.
Unable to fathom the sensation of the skull
flopping about deleteriously.
As though hanging their brains as bait and net
to whatever hazards might glide below.
Yet, these impressions
would be invisible to the thinking mind, forgotten.
And ours pondered over as a peculiar mystery
born of some untamed imagination.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
The clamor
The desire etched on her face
Her throat yearning, all the way down
Her thirst is tangible,
Her nostrils flair betraying anticipation
Give it to me
Give it to me now
Please, give me a glass of water
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
Gautama was conceived in the purifying water of the monsoons,
a sweetness aliting to invite the morning bell.
He came to a wealthy world, somehow impoverished,
yet bathed in the crimson light of life;
Blind and unable to shine our gaze into the void,
We complain of distance – when really
there is none between hearts.
Millennia later, the gratitude is mine,
only in the sense that I do not resist its source,
the light.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
Tenuous at best
This equilibrium I find myself clinging to.
Dangling from the earth by my cranium.
Watching as others, like birds must see fish,
flail about the universe,
feet bound to the firmament above us.
For us
it resembles suffocating
or haphazard design.
Unable to fathom the sensation of the skull
flopping about deleteriously.
As though hanging their brains as bait and net
to whatever hazards might glide below.
Yet, these impressions
would be invisible to the thinking mind, forgotten.
And ours pondered over as a peculiar mystery
born of some untamed imagination.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
Her irises darting, probing.
Her tastes floated and churned behind mine.
Brushed, warm, wet
lips and tongues.
We kissed until it burned,
numbed but unsated.
Fear, passion, pheromones blended
flammabley
and ignited on a fire of psychotic teen heartbreak.
Stalking, trembling, steering my soul
past it
(but always dragging it behind)
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
Must is a memory of the cellar.
My grandfather would sleep down there when they spent the night.
Me, not really keeping him company,
just being uncomfortably in the same space.
The plastered walls floated a talc-y powder that would linger
in my throat
And on my tongue.
Later when he was dying,
the discomfort still remained,
but subsided as he grew weak
in that big loud frame of his.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
There was a stage in my life
When I accepted what was told me
Thoughts etched, the acid leaving indelible patterns
Currents and tides of being
That invited loyalty
Tastes of doubt's power
left me dispossessed – finding new songs,
vainly pressing my own.
Tramping not so slow
warned - unheeding.
Unsensing to the shivering fault
I’m left to wonder
which rocks on the beach
found their smoothness the right way
and which did it all wrong?
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
A pull or a falling feeling
At the heart
Head fuzzy, blood drawn below
The touch of another, so new, so full in its sensation,
Dispelling the separation of the world
fueling the engine of desire.
Entering, she holds me wetly and warmly.
Encouraging, finding sounds
to exchange love and lust and awkward sentences.
No, yes
What am I saying.
Discovering, touching, thirsting,
Release, collapse, silence, holding
A new beginning.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC