i have been
                      (sad)
lately
for what it would seem
                               (no reason)
to speak
so hear my crumbling
                                      (aching)
you aren't listening
i remain
                   (alone).

you say things like
God bless you
let's pray
church is your shield
the Lord's word
becomes your cover
you claim to be of peace
that hate is unreal
as you stab your brother
you are the
all American perfected
piece of apple pie
with ice cream on the side
and yet your core is rotten
you can hide behind script
but scripture doesn't change
as much as your heart
is never the same
or have you forgotten?

quick to point fingers
to judge and pursue
as muddy as creek water
is what flows through you
and yet you smile
you hide behind your
facebook wall
and your indirect posts
as if reading between lines
is a challenge
you make it easy for most
you claim to be right
you bow for the wronged
you love to pick fights
you deny any motive
are you pleased with your conflict
you saint of two tongues?

my silence speaks volumes
bewildered lack of reaction
but don't think i don't see
the devil is present in your "absence"
you hide behind privilege
and your white picket fence
you are safe from a world
the rest of us fight just to live in
so you haven't the right to speak
down on us with
your thoughtless opinions
fools gold you are
you're real to the world
but not real to me
not pure to us
your contradictory life;
transparent as shade is to dust

and you just keep cleaning up

my mind is weary
because my skin is black
the fighting never ends
we are murdered by enemies
who pledge to be our friends

my soul is tired
because my skin is black
they say move on from the past
as if our great grandparents
weren't working their plantation
disregarding the fact that slaves
have built this nation

my eyes are burning
because my skin is black
crying rivers of tears that lead to
oceans we never see
because American paradise wasn't built
for people who look like me

my heart is hurting
because my skin is black
will it be my brother next?
could it be my father too?
without the love of my life
i have nothing
and what if they take him too?

my skin is on fire
because it is black
a pigment i was born with
that i cannot give back
the darker we are
the more we are judged
the more we are killed
the less we are loved
so we turn to each other
to lift each other up
and now you call us racist
when before you didn't care
you only see a possibility of unity
and i think you just might be scared
we are now aware of our power
that you try to retract
did you forget who your president is?
hmm.. imagine that

we are all weary
we are all tired
we are all hurting
i refuse to tell my son he is less worthy
i refuse to see my daughter cry
and ask why we have to die

because our skin is black

all we have ever wanted was to be treated as EQUALS, as HUMANS, as PEOPLE
America you owe us that!

When I first met her
God put a speaking trumpet
straight up against my ear
and stated
very slowly
in that Godly voice
that is a mix of
the ocean's roar
and the singing of
Barry White

"This is the one
you've been looking for."

The stars were in on it
bubbling like champagne
in the night sky
singing a sweet accompaniment
a singular poem
of one word:
Yes.

What would you do?

I took the only possible path:
Surrender.

Gave up my wandering ways
quit my womanizing
got hitched straight away
tied the knot
didn't know a thing
about knot tying
but the **** thing held.

And here we are.
Poet number one
that would be her.

Poet number two-and-a-half
me

Marriage solved nothing
brought more questions
than answers
more unfinished business
than completed tasks

Yet at this late stage
a sense that against all odds
against the evidence
of my hands
against every argument
presented by the priest
who reluctantly married us

Something has gone
wonderfully right.

The stars,
dear friends,
truly know their business.

The first time he hurt you, you told your mother
Her visions blurred by a bottle
You poor little lost soul, you are surrounded by poison

Your dreams were limited to one island
'You can't leave here'
He rips the rest of the world off of a map

A sick seed grows inside you, spoils your appetite for life
If only you had wings
You are so sick you don't see love anymore

A small window of opportunity arises
I have to leave now
Your father helps you pack your car in the night

A new road on a long journey
Five hundred miles does not feel like enough
Is he following?

Sunshine and cigarettes are now your new air
You gladly accept this poison over the last
One day, all you'll be breathing is the ocean's air little girl.

I was made to be milk glass—
  Lately, I've been more of
a scattering of light,
  a technicolor oil spill,
effervescent kerosene,
  a phosphene
in a running eye,
  fluorescent aerosol
going cumulonimbus
  in a green sky;
a variegated skin rash
  caused by shining neon bile
all festering and iridescent;
  a tattered road map
on the wall of a food court,
  bearing incandescent roads
twisting like snakes
  eating their own tails;
a human being in the form of a
  kaleidoscopic feedback loop
passed back and forth
  between the mouth and the ear
and the mouth and the ear forevermore,
  burning the tongue, the finger tips
and teetering on the edge
  of glittering, glorious incendium—
After the smoke has cleared,
  I can go back
to sleeping on the shelf.