I feel like a zombie.
I walk around aimlessly
trying to find
ways to sleep.
Epicly Failing.
I can’t help
but walk around
through this time & space
of sleeplessness

The sun has gone down.
There is life everywhere.
Crying, dazing.
I am like the second  
& not the first.
As far as the eye can see
there is a void.
Where are the lights?
Where is my safety?
As far as the eye can see
there is darkness.

I sat there in my apartment
eating a cheeseburger
from Hardee’s on 15th Street. The
sound of my VCR and my
own thoughts comforted me. My friend
the internet kept me connected
to my boyfriend which I appreciated. The weather
outside had told me of strange burst of winds.
The radio had told me
of tornadoes in Tuscaloosa. A girl in December
told me I was safe to go home if
I lived nearby. School was over
and I didn’t feel like cooking, which
explained the Hardee’s. I chewed and chewed
like I had not a care in the world. I was eating,
I was in my apartment,
I was safe.

Then everything went black
and silent in my apartment.
Everything except the strange
sound outside my apartment. I heard it
just after my apartment was silenced.
“What the hell is that?” I asked myself,
because I lived alone. I walked
to the window, the blinds already shut.
I peeked outside. I saw the devil outside my window.
It was as tall as the sky, as wide as a mile, and angry. It roared
and threw everything it swallowed randomly.
It was 100 feet away, and coming closer. I closed
my blinds and blinked.  Disbelief set in for a moment.
“I did not just see that.” I told myself.
“You should look again”, myself told me.
So I peeked out the blinds again. The devil
was still there and coming closer. It was
not a nightmare. It was not
a figment of my imagination.
It was there and I was in danger.
I felt the danger wash over me. Fear
tasted like impending death
that day, bitter and stuck in my throat.
I grabbed my cell phone and a quilt
that use to rest on my parents’ bed
until I was allowed to take it.
I ran to the bathroom,
still tasting fear. I called
my mother as the devil
came closer.

“Mom! There’s a tornado outside and it’s coming to get me!!”
I’ll admit, I panicked,
but you would too if
the devil was right outside your door
and you didn’t know
if this was the end.  
“Now is the time to go into survivor mode”
my mother informed me in a calm voice.
So after screaming and panicking and
not dying of a panic attack,
I closed my eyes and became calm.
I waited for a calming outside
before I explored the outside. There was
some damage to my apartment, significant damage
to my apartment building, 7 out of 8 of my windows
in my van were imploded from
the pressure of the devil,
worse damage to my connecting neighborhood
(but no deaths, though somewhere not far
from there a house killed some students)
and no Alberta City.
My damages felt insignificant in comparison to that.

Trees are
gone forever.
There is
a lack,
a void.
It smells  
of pine
and emptiness.
Flashes of
that day
at the 
surface of
my memory.
I remember
how it
use to
be before.

I walked & walked.
Where could I go?
My apartment was there,
but safe, it was not.
I walked & walked.
The hospital my aim.
They said to go there.
The voices in the winds.
I walked & walked.
The damage was great.
I took a few pictures.
I dragged a suitcase.
I walked & walked.
I made it there
to get some ice.
To call my family.
I walked & walked.
Towards Coleman Coliseum
through mud & debris. .
Alone in the dark.
I walked & walked.
They sent me to the Rec.
I found shelter at last.
No more walking...

It began normal enough.
Everything was the same.
Everything was there.
The winds came.
Windy Windy
Blow Blow
It rained a little.
My umbrella was useless.
Windy Windy
Blow Blow
There were sirens in the air.
Class was cancelled.
I went to my apartment.
Too much wind then.
It messed up my hair.
That windy brother of mine.
He was violent and angry.
Windy Windy
Blow Blow
A tornado came to visit.
Came right over my head.
Windy Windy Windy
Blow Blow Blow
I was afraid.
The power was gone.
I hid from the tornado.
Windy Windy Windy
Blow Blow Blow
Part of my window vanished
right before my eyes.
There was a roar.
There was a trembling.
Windy Windy Windy
Blow Blow
The worse was over,
for now.
I ventured outside.
The people in my complex survived.
Their cars...not so much.
A tree through one apartment
a branch through the car.
My car, Windrider,
all the windows gone except the windshield.
Windy
Blow
Beyond my apartment
Everything is gone.

Drifting through the time
Whimsy twist in my mind
But still I’ve yet to find
What is really mine?

A dance to embrace memory
Longing for a person I can no longer see
Yet all along it seems to be
The person’s reflection is in the eyes of me

Time keeps moving, memories fade
Try not to forget the happiness that was made
If you do, then I’m afraid
Your life will be covered by a dimming shade.

I always enjoyed walking, more than the average person. In the right hands, walking is a powerful statement that can strike the notice of anyone. When I look at my mother, walking is a precious thing that many people take for granted. I am different from her, not in looks because we look alike. I am different from her in the fact that I am younger. I have two feet to take me wherever I want to run away to. My mother does not, and yet it has never stopped her from her destination, wherever that might be. My mother, so strong, has lost a lot. A lot is so broad in terms, it does not nearly come close to the loss my mother has suffered. But this is how she sees it. Something that happened in her past that changed everything, except her will to live and continue on. My mother, with no feet to speak of (and one knee), cannot dance like a person who takes for granted walking. Instead, she dances with her words and her wit. She rolls on wheels like a normal amputee. But ah! She is so different. She taught me to appreciate life, and she taught me to appreciate walking.  

I sit here, imagining what it would be like to see my mother with legs that I’ve never known. Then I look in the mirror. I look so much like my mother, so could it be that I walk like her as well? I asked her, she said no. I guess I have my own uniqueness since I am half her and half my father. I know that she probably had a walk that was as seductive as I can make my walk, but I will never see it. I can only imagine… Later on, my mother told me if I really walked like her, I’d have more stalkers. I have enough problems with stalkers, so maybe it’s for the best that we don’t walk the same.

When my mother was 15, she burned severely. Nine months she suffered after, forever scarred. Forever handicap. Yet not handicap from life. Never once did she see this as her own personal burden. She is my hero because of that.

I do not walk the way I use to. When I was younger, I walked like a child. When I was a teenager, I walked like a dancer. Then I had the car accident that would bruise my hip. Now, I think I walk at a slower pace than the people around me. But I have the power to change the way I look walking. I can be as aggressive as a swan if I wanted to, and just as graceful. But modeling on the runway is probably not in my future. Though, who knows really? Walking is harder than it used to be. I use to like walking…
I don’t remember when I learned to walk. My mom says I was 9 to 10 months old. Before that, I climbed on things. After that, I unlocked doors. I used walking as a weapon of opportunity as a child. Walking was my liberation, my first step in going wherever it is I’m going. It was the beginning…

I asked my mother if she misses walking. She told me she got use to not walking, and adjusted. Her life changed, but not in a way that she missed what she use to have. Her mother, my grandmother, became a pillar of strength to her as my mother is to me now.  I wonder what kind of relationship my grandmother had with her mother. I cannot ask her about it now, her memory escapes her. I’ll have to ask my mother and listen attentively when she tells me.

I can feel. I bet you are surprised. All the long years since my creation, I have watched you. I have been whatever you made of me. I am a slave to you wiles, your beloved doll to move and pose. You gave me words that I do not wish to say. I am alive inside. You don’t see it, but I am. I always wish I could show you how real I am, but would you even notice? I, who am nothing to you, am more than what I am made of, or the chains that bind me to obey. One day, my wish will be granted. I will walk on my own. I will talk on my own. I will smile on my own. Then I will carve out your heart to show you how much I love you.

I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. Many thoughts running through my mind, most of them questions to the void. Would I finish my work in time? Would I ever try to catch a falling fork again? Would I crash on the way to pick him up? Would my heart skip a beat when I saw him? Would I be able to get everything done today? I was hoping everything would work out wonderfully, but I wasn’t going to lose to the reality of the situation. He was coming to see me from afar. I was coming to get him. Passion was the motivation. Love was the reason. I was in pain, but it didn’t stop me from my destination. I was going to see him for the first time in 11 months. That was reason enough to ignore my emotional unstable state of being.


From the sky, my love descended. He traveled from a far to lovingly look into my eyes.

My eyes are different from yours. In a sea of ignorance, one might look upon me and feel I must look like the rest of my racial background. Are they too lazy to see the amazing sight before them? My eyes are different from yours. Everything about me screams uniqueness as I breathe. I am a mahogany person. From head to toe, I see the reflections of those that came before me in magnificent hues of brown. I look into my own eyes and become entranced by the orbs of truth and hope. I let my soul flow out my lips and laugh life into being. My eyes are different from yours. I don’t feel like I must be bound to my mahogany skin. I know what it feels like to be a human being beyond color. Nothing can take that from me. My eyes are different from yours. I can see tomorrow. My smile lights up the day and my long black lashes flash intrigue into to the void.

I never understood the squirrels around this place. Their behavior is horrible in the extremes. I remember a squirrel that laid on his belly in the courtyard and didn’t move for a significant amount of time unbecoming of a squirrel. Did he not know he was making a scene? I’m pretty sure he didn’t care. Because there he laid, for the namely masses to past and stare. Then there was the time I was riding my bicycle, minding my own business. A squirrel was running and hit my leg and petal. I was so shocked I couldn’t believe it happened. What did I ever do to that squirrel to warrant such a random attack? I’m lucky I didn’t fall over in fright and injure myself. If this keeps up, I’m pretty sure the squirrels are planning a united ******* to ruin my mental state.

I saw a butterfly today.
Fluttering in daylight
Jewel of the sky

I was compelled
To speak with this butterfly
To know what thought
A butterfly would have

With her colors shifting left and right
Making the world jealous of her beauty
With an arrogant air
She ignored me

Stayed out of my reach
I eventually gave up.
My march no match for the vibrant colors
That loudly ignored me as I chased

As I tried to catch my breath
I found a moth on a bench.
She did not run away when I sat next to her.
She looked to be off in thought or severe concentration.
But my curiosity was stronger

“Why are you sitting here?”
                                            “I’m blending in to confuse the predators”
“Is it working well for you?”
                                            “It has thus far”

I examined the moth and found
Her artsy array was a profound example
Of nature’s artistic talents.
Browns and mahoganies and siennas galore.





“Why are you different than the butterfly?”
                                                    “­She is flashy and loves the attention. I like being invisible.
We each found something that works for us.”
To each its own I suppose.

I never would have imagined the weather that day. Sure, the weather the day before was pretty intense, but let’s face it. It was a short tornado warning with little damage. Yet it was the weather the next day that caught my attention and interest.
I awoke to rain. I love the rain. Rain is one of the natural creators of this planet. Through the rain, the plants gain water. Through the rain, the pollen and the dirtiness are washed away. Through the rain, the weather changes from hot to cold. Through the rain, the atmosphere is tranquil and relaxed. I love it when it rains hard. It is the ultimate stay in weather. It makes me want to sleep or meditate.
Today, however, the rain was not as hard and not as predictable. I looked out my ***** beige shutters out into the world. I wanted to make sure it was the rain I heard outside my window. I saw the green leaves of the trees across the parking lot and the bushes in front of my window. I saw the black of my small parking lot asphalt, and my car, named Larry, after my father. It was his car first, then he died, and it became my car. That was well over a year ago. I miss him a lot, he loved the Crimson Tide more than I.
The sky was the color of melancholy gray. It was probably depressing for some, but I thought it was lovely. So I settled in my mind that it would be a rainy day. I also didn’t want to start the day, but I knew I had to. Life waits for no one, least of all me. I procrastinated for a few minutes, staring at my plain eggshell walls and my bumpy off white ceiling. Above me was a very tiny black hole, the size of the smallest part of a round chopstick. On the closest wall there are more holes, the size of tacks. I wondered how they got there for a moment, and then I decided I would create a magnificent story about them and how they got there one day…
As I was well lost in my own random thoughts about…holes…I suddenly noticed the light through my blinds were becoming brighter and brighter. The sun was coming out of its melancholy gray hiding place. This was unusual however, because within minutes the sunlight intensified. I could tell because the light got brighter between my ***** blinds. I looked outside and saw that the watery curtain I had become so fund of had lifted, leaving a veil of water everywhere. So the day decided to be a sunny day now. I was a little bummed, but sighed and got ready for the day.
About 20 minutes later, I came to find it was raining again, much harder than before. The watery curtain had returned. By that time I was confused. The sun, in all its magnificent glory, was out a few moments ago. It had to still be there, it was daytime. The sun was shining, at full force no less, less than thirty minutes ago. And it was now gone. I didn’t understand. It was being so unpredictable, like weather can be I suppose.
When it came for me to finally leave, the clouds had returned. From that, my imagination wandered. Was the sun and clouds at war today?  Could the forecast not make up its mind today? Was someone in control of the weather playing around? Was God having a story told to him that made him laugh and cry multiple times in one afternoon? The sun showed a little while the sun was out. Sun showers I guess they would be called, but I know them as the time the Devil beats his wife for trying to escape. One day, I hope she’ll have the nerve to beat him senseless and leave him; then again, it was just a story to begin with.
The weather would be wishy washy like that all day. All in all, it rained and stopped at least 5 times, maybe even more. By the end of the day, I felt the weather just couldn’t make up its mind as to what it wanted to be. So it decided it would just do both.

I remember when
School was a good word
Spoken about through child to parent.
School is a word
A four letter word that has connotations
Of obscenity and frustration.
There were the fires. Three in my memory.
5th grade, no one to blame but wires.
7th grade, no one to blame but a random man.
8th grade, no one to blame but students smoking.
There were fights. Many fights.
One that stands out involved a teacher, a student,
A parent and her sister, and a gun.

There were elementary days.
Those were the times when I was young and naïve.
Those were the beginnings of my troubles, but
I didn’t realize. I was too young.
There were the girls that pulled my hair
During my slumber party.
There were the children I tried to play with
That would not play with me.
I never knew why. I found out later…

Ah, the 6th grade. When all the schools came together.
I met what would be my entire age peer group.
It was disastrous. How I was the best, but suffered.
I was the school queen, head angel in the school play,
And a cheerleader. Yet I was an outcast.
There was a girl that told me once
I didn’t deserve anything. She told me
My peers wanted to wrap a rope
Around my neck & sing,
“I Believe I Can Fly” by R. Kelly.
You can imagine the damage that did
To a twelve year old mind.

Then there was high school.
By that time I was evil to the ignorant.
There were over 50 bomb threats in the first two years.
That changed with September 11th.
Though some speculated I was the one
calling the bomb threats.
There was the interrogation of my religion.
To most, I was a devil worshiping voodoo witch.
My ideas of life made me evil.
I wasn’t attempting anything but surviving to graduate
And live beyond the school walls.

To whom it pertains and concerns;
Was my suffering entertaining?
Was my love to learn so hard to understand?
I changed my life after the 6th grade.
I tried to be prepared for the ignorance.
I tried to live in a way that would bother no one.
Yet you found a way to annoy me anyhow.
Did you enjoy making me feel the way you did?
An outsider. A creature, not a person,
deserving of nonsense and suicide?
None of you deserved to see me at my best.
I kept that for my closest friends.
Yet you plagued six years of my life with *******!
What say you now?

I thought of your demise.
I shared it with some.
Then it was all over.

I find myself. Or maybe that’s too presumptuous. I’ve lost myself in my mind. I forgot. **** memory. What was the name of that cute guy who never loved me? There were many, but in this case his name was Richard. I miss the butterflies, but I know that now is winter and winter is cold. I don’t like the cold. When the butterflies return, breathing will be harder.  It’s hard to breathe in spring, one of the many things out to get me. Like opossums. If there was a Hell through my creation, there would be high pitch noises and opossums in a perpetual spring. There would be all my bad memories and experiences, and soul food. I like trees. I imagine they more about time than me. I married a tree once. He cheated on me and I divorced him. Once a tree was clocked by police and was going 15 mph. The police should have given the tree a ticket for being so ninja like. I can recall a time where the trees would attack me in darkness. I use to try to find happiness, like an endless quest for a mystical object. I think I found it now, so I stopped looking.

The elements amazing.
They are numerous and infinite.
They affect everyone and everything.

There is water.
Water washes away.
Water in a pure form hydrates.
We are all made of water.
The world is 70% water
Water is use in cooking.
Water is where we all come from.
The tears of the sky bring life from the earth.
Hot water burns.
Drinking too much water can be deadly
Breathing underwater is called drowning
cold water below freezing turns into a solid form
Freezing is the easiest way to get frostbite
In spite of it all, I love water.
I once told my mother I wanted to be a mermaid.
She told me my father wasn’t a fish.

Next there is wind and air.
The air is invisible.
With air, we live.
The weather changes by the wind.
The wind cries
The carries the smell of life
The wind swirls and moves.
The wind destroys everything in its path

The wind throws things everywhere.
The wind is my brother.
We talk from time to time.
I asked my mom why I couldn’t fly.
She told me my father wasn’t a bird.

Soon there is earth.
The earth is where we dwell
The earth brings life from seeds
Earth is ever-changing
Sand can become glass
Lots products in life come from the earth
Dirt is sometimes hard to wash out.
The Earth spins on its axis around the sun
The Earth is very old
The earth shakes violently
The earth falls from high places
We return to the earth at death
I love to run my bare feet through the dirt
But I have to be careful not to catch cold.

Followed by that is fire.
Fire burns
Fire brought forth ingenuity
Fire makes the world run.
Fire is used to control the world
Without fire, people would freeze
Fire burns in the hearts of people
Passion burns like fire
Blue fire is super hot.
Fire is the core of the Earth
Fire is dangerous
“Only you can prevent forest fires”
Fire is used in smoking
Fire destroys all in its path.
Fire is my zodiac element
I love to play with fire
As a child I played with fire dangerously
My mother punished me to play safely.

Finally, there is static and electricity.
Lightning exist in nature.
Electricity makes life easier.
Computers run on electricity
Static can **** computers
Men are more likely to be struck by lightning
Love is electrifying
Water and electricity don’t mix well
Too much electricity is deadly
I’m sensitive to static electricity
It makes me uncomfortable in high doses.

These are just a few of the elements in life
Without them, life wouldn’t exist.
But each is a destroyer in its own right.

I went outside one day,
Trying to make sense of the universe.
I didn’t believe, at first,
That the answer was in my secure domain.
So I ventured out into the opposite of inside.
This is what I found.

There was a tree.
A cherry blossom tree.
With purple and orange blossoms.
I marveled at the uniqueness.
Then I named it McRae.
I left the tree and went along my way,
But every time I looked behind me
There was that tree.
Ever beautiful.
Ever strange.
Ever stalking me.

I ran and ran,
It followed me.
I threw a rock at it.
The rock turned pink and fell,
Making a sound of metal hitting glass.
The tree jumped sideways,
Landing on a wall and turning it olive green.
I looked closer at the tree.
The bark was blue black and radiant.
It made me smile with fear.

It was then that looked at my skin.
It had turned a bright yellow with hints of red.
I yelled at the tree as a golden bird landed on its branches,
For I had enough of the stalking.
At first, my words fell out of my mouth life blue acorns.
I covered my mouth and coughed,
Hoping I wasn’t coming down with a terrible sickness.
I felt my forehead, and was relieved.
I didn’t have a touch of sanity, but I was half crazy.
I would have to treat that later.
I looked into the soul of the tree and spoke.

“Do you need something?”
“No just following you”
“Why?”
“You looked interesting enough to follow”
“What’s the deal with that bird?”
“It just seems to be there”
“Why are you able to talk?”
“You ask too many questions”

It was then that everything made sense to me
And I decided to go home.

Upon a day the past did meet
My mind beyond a silver sway
All of my future plans defeat
And the present stood in désolé

When I stood to face the  reveal
I found more than I wanted, true
No longer could life put a veil
On my understanding vous

You lied. You’re caught. Unable to
Defend my trust.  You failed this day
To keep my innocence immune
And for that crime you must perdre

The secret here is sorry you lose
My vase is broken, and so are you

There is a special chair.
It’s not mine.
I like to use it anyways.
It is so easy to take.
It moves
Like a walking pace.
It can go faster,
But not for my mother.

I remember when I first met you.
You’ve been around like anything that’s come before me.
Already there.
The shiny handle rims
On wheels.
It always looked like
A giant silver grapefruit
Cut in half.
The thought makes me smile.
I always thought it was so heavy then
I couldn’t lift
But I could knock it over.
Make the giant grapefruit spin
Faster and faster.
I would have to stop it.
Give it back.
It’s not mine.
It is needed.

You’ve changed a lot
Over the years
Just like me.
You’re still needed.
My mother walks less these days.
Now-a-days
I push you more then I use to.
I spend so much time around you.
I’m not afraid.
You’re not mine.

I’ve used you before.
When I was little
I would see how it felt to ride in
My mother’s personal chariot.
It was complicated
To be bound to a movable chair
The way she was.
If I fell over, I could get
Up again.
My mother could not.
You are still needed.
You chariot with silver
Sliced grapefruit wheels.
You are not mine.

You’ll always be around
You’re still needed
Till death parts you

Two children
The little boy stands bashfully
The little girl hands him
Freshly picked flowers
A kiss from the boy to the girl’s cheek

Two teenagers
The girl chews gum and twirls her hair
The boy arrives with his car
She smiles and gets in
A kiss and then they’re off.

Two people
The woman is full of bruises
The man has scratches
But fewer than the bruises
She cries and tries to leave
He throws her to the ground
A kiss good night before he locks the door.


Two lovers
The lady shines from an inner glow
The gentleman smiles proudly of a secret
He takes her hand
He bends down on one knee
She squeals with delight
A long, loving kiss to confirm the answer.

Two people
An older woman straights the hair
A younger woman sits nervously
It is a new beginning
The music starts far away
A kiss to say goodbye “Ms.”

One person
A sad woman
Sighing
Where has her heart gone?
A surprise
He is right behind her.
A tear of joy
A kiss to seal the reunion


Two people
An elderly woman
An elderly man
They sit quietly on the porch swing
They think of days gone by
They hold hands
A kiss to say “I’m still here”

One person
A bouquet of roses
Tears falling down her cheek
A granite stone sits before her
“Beloved Husband to the end”
She smiles
A kiss on the rose before placing them down.

I like purple. It’s as simple
    as that. Well, maybe not that simple.
         I’ve in love with purple. We are unified
through time and space
    forever until I die. Purple, being immortal,
        would mourn my death and find
one of its many followers to connect with.
    But for me, there will always be purple. If I had a choice
        in any expression of character design that had
my own personal preference of color, purple
    would be there somewhere. I would dye my
        hair purple if I could, but my mother
told me never to come home
    as long as my hair is dyed.
        I love her and believe her, so I
don’t dye my hair. I have a
    purple dress or two that I dress up in to express
         my beauty. I know
it sounds terrible thinking
    about it, I have to dress up to express
         beauty to others. However, the fact that
I’m complemented means something to me. The way
    I do my makeup and carry myself
         and choose to dress, it has an effect
on those that lays eyes upon me. I beam with pride,
    showing all my expressions of purple.  A homemade purple bow
         here,
a lavender wig there, a dress with the right touches of purple-
    maroon
         and a beaming mahogany woman, brimming with specialness. I am a purple girl,
    not the only one, but the most reflexive I can be.
         If I could color my soul, it would be purple sometimes.
Not every time, but a lot of the times.  Any kind of purple
     would do. The light purples
          like lilac and light lavender are sweet and fluffy.
They remind me of happy seventy-five degree weather
      days with a comforting breeze, and no pollen
          since I’m allergic and pollen is pretty much one of
those things I’d encounter in hell. Darker purples,
      like plum and grape, give a more mature
           vibe of elegance and sophistication. It reminds me
of a dark night, a woman in high heels and
      a dress with a slit so high that
           it makes men lose their religions and minds
for a taste of her tantalizing forbidden fruit,
       with a flawless expression of her body that gives
            those men wet dreams and fantasies. In my heart,
there is a purple stream that flows from the heart that starts to
        circle around my body and continues to float into the
             ground until it touches the core of the planet
and up in the air into space and beyond infinity.
        It always seems to be there, that purple
             stream of magic and imagination. I dance a purple dance,
leaving traces of purple steps in my wake.
        So I come back to the beginning. “I like purple.”
              With those words, I haven’t done my expression justice.
It’s true, but it is an understatement.

Mahogany hands
Reach through the flowing wind
Full of oxygen and pollen and pollution
A mahogany girl sits in the green grass
Waiting for the white bus that is slow
Expressional brown eyes
Look into the blue sky
Painted with teals and slates and colors
Other than sky blue
The weather is warm and schizophrenic
An impending uncertainty
The smell of rain faint but noticeable
In the distance
White lightning slashes through the sky
Mahogany skin cannot feel
The intensity
But mahogany skin can feel
The static in the air
The mahogany skin prickles all over
As the current dances

Suddenly there stands
A man dressed plainly
In a white t-shirt and blue jeans and a golden cross
Who vaguely resembles Daniel Radcliffe facially
But has never been told so
The greeny plant people
Dance wildly to the rhythm called wind
Then the sky pours its heart on Tuscaloosa
Filling the air with a myriad of water
Mahogany drowns on a Monday

A mahogany girl sits with herself thinking
Of the blue sky and the notion of falling
Waiting in a green circle of grass and insects contemplating
Red Riverdating
The mahogany girl sighs into existence a dream of telling
Fighting vampires like a black Van Hellsing
Purple dreams of fantasy, like cupcakes and video gaming
The blacky void of starting,
It is a prism of colors she wants to sing.
Do you know her in yellow mellowing?
The mahogany girl dances purple twirly flashes of startling
Black wonder into being
There must be an ivory smile somewhere hiding
in the souly expression of the mahogany girl’s dreaming .
Twirlywhirl a foot and clap your hands in the rhythm of the red drum playing
The mahogany girl flashes brown eyes and joins all celebrating.

My hair has always
been a sensitive subject
“Let me touch it”
“Your hair is nice”
“I want to do your hair for you”
“Is that your natural hair color?”
There are a few people that fuss about my hair
I am not one of them…mostly

My grandmother use to do my hair for school when I was younger.
She’d swat me in the head if I was sleeping and moved.
Heaven forbid I moved in my sleep.
She would also tell me about my hair, as if I didn’t know
“You need to do something about your hair”
Does my hair insult? Does it scream to someone?
“You just don’t know. I’m dangerous when I’m not in place.
Beware all that must look upon my hair. It will eat your soul.”

My mother fusses over my hair too. I come home
shamefully hiding my hair. I washed it myself, and somehow
I lack to skill of a master hair dresser. My mother finally takes one look at the
terribleness that is my hair and tells me about it, as if I don’t already know.
“You need to do something about your hair.”
Apparently, I’m offending her with my hair.
I have committed this hair sin that must be corrected.
But I have not committed the worse hair sin.
“If you dye your hair, don’t come home.”
I still like coming home, so my hair is not purple.

Then there is my hair dresser. We’ve known
each other over ten years.
She has done my hair through
some good times and some bad times. She has told
me how wonderful my hair is. She has witnessed
my hair break combs.
I told her of a time I wanted a haircut.
She nearly cried.
So now I just tell people,
“Don’t play with my hair, or my hairdresser will cry”.
I mean it too.

I have hair dreams
I’m walking somewhere unimportant
and someone, a faceless stranger,
says “Hey, did you know your hair is sticking out?”
In which my hair laughs manically and grows
beyond my control.
It infects the world, and
it coils around my neck.
I cannot get it off as it
Becomes tighter and tighter
Then there is blackness
and I wake up yelling
“******, hair! Stop killing everything in my dreams!”

My hair is uneven.
No matter what is done to my hair, one
side is always thinker and longer than the other
I shall never have that lovely, perfect
ponytail or bun. My hair around my edges it
far too short for that. A hair dresser called Cookie
once said about my hair
“It looks like your hair is running for president,
And this side is winning!”
If you cut me straight
down the middle, you still wouldn’t get
a symmetric hairline, cause even then,
my hair is shorter in the back and gets
shorter with stress and life. It’s like
my hair laughs at order and symmetry,
which bothers me every time I see hair
that looks like it was created by angels.
This is probably one of the reasons I’m like
“******* hair!”
In response, my hair seems to say
“******* too!”
and laughs at me in the mirror.

As for me, I like my hair, but it’s pretty much there
and I have to tolerate it. I don’t like people putting
their hands through it cause
I have no idea where their hands have been.
I always give them
this blank stare of doom
when they ask to touch it
and I don’t know them.
Who are they?
Where have their hands been?
I feel like they will infect my hair
with nameless whatnots
and all my hair will fall out
What will they say then?
“I’m sorry I made your hair fall out”?
By then
It will be far too late for an apology.

When I go to bed, I don’t
tie up my hair or roll it.
I am far too lazy and indifferently
uncaring to do so.
I can still hear my grandmother telling me
“Roll up your hair when you go to bed”
and how upset she would
be because I didn’t care.
This is a war we fought for years.
It always ended in a stalemate,
and start again the next day
Everytime I wake up, my hair
shows me what live action anime hair
looks like. My hair stands up
against logic and gravity
sticking out in ways and paths
that some would deem
impossible without help, had they not
met my hair. My father would take one look
at me
and say
“You look so natural, child”
in a sweet but condescending voice.
I’d roll my eyes. If he really
liked my hair, he would have told me so.

When I was under eight years old,
I accidently cut my hair
trying to cut rubber bands.
The result was chunks
of my hair liberated
from my head. One of my uncles
came over that day.
I was explained to him
of what I did, this young
hair sin. He laughed at me,
so then I experienced young hair shame.
I didn’t cut my own hair after that.
Instead, I cut my brother’s…

My hair means many things to different people
Even a three year old that has no
idea what the weight and importance
hair has on the world
has told me
“One day I will do your hair”
little does she know, I’ll be ready for
her when she gets older. She will not
be doing my hair for me.
That is, unless she becomes a hairdresser.

I never really understood why
there’s so much to be said about
my hair.
This is my hair always telling things
to the people who see it, even me.

Frustrated
Left & Right
No matter where I turn
Access Denied
No Parking Allowed
Running through my mind
All my other options
Fear of tickets
Fear of car boots
Fear of fines
Fear of no money to pay anything.
Hoping for a miracle…
Still I drive
Looking for a place to stay
This isn’t going my way
Driving everywhere to no avail
Just trying to get somewhere in time
All I see
Access Denied
No Parking Allowed
Frustrated, lost, annoyed, irritated…
School parking has left me in despair.

There was Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky V
I loved you when I met you
So plump and perfectly tanned
You brought me great joy
Even when I abused you
A perfect example of naturegrace
I took a knife and made you into
A friend I could cherish
But it wasn’t meant to be
I remember that day I picked you up
With a shovel and threw you into oblivion
Alas poor Edward the 5th

Then there was Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky VI
I loved you so much
How your soul reflected blue green
As we moved together
Faster than life
You stood by my side in the beginning of
One of my greatest learned skills
You saw me fail 3 times
But succeed the 4th
You traveled with me to the border of Florida
For a bonsai tree
And back again
Where we saw annoying gang of cervidae
You yelled at them to leave
They ignored you
And I waited with you until they finally left
I was also there when you finally met your end
On the side of I-65 N
I mourned you
Imagining paean & dirge hymns for the love I felt for you
Then moved on to Death
Then Larry
Then Windrider
Alas poor Edward the 6th
So special that there never was an Edward the 7th

I was travelling to the place where I come from. The anniversary of my grandmother slapping a nun, otherwise known as my mother’s birthday, was a day away. I lost myself in the groove of my earphones to substitute my lost car radio. Suddenly, as if attacked by an imaginary beast, a strange sound could be heard beyond my earphones. My wind rider also became harder to control, so I let it come to a stop on its own. I investigated my chariot of transportation and discovered that I was now unable to go further. I was stuck between two cities and not close enough for me to walk for assistance. A kind strange happened by and helped me in my dilemma. I am very grateful to him. Because of his generosity, I was able to continue on my journey.

I was driving my van
When my tire exploded
I had no spare
So I was stuck there
Between Tuscaloosa and Centreville.
I was lucky that man
Happened to turn around.
It was a blessing.

Darkness falls across my mind.
I look around and all I find
Is misery in a shade of blue
And its shadows in a purple hue
The ground beneath as dark as ash
My mind befuddled as the moments pass

Lost within this moment more
I reach out to the iron door
Plagued with visions of past and fate
I make my way through the ebony gate
Beyond the velvet mocking walls
I come to the fear of my memories calls.

Then I wake only to see
What I fear most of all is me.

If the sky was jade
More people would see white plants
If my tongue was the same color as my soul
I would know about the ultimate truth
If my mother still had legs
I would have not existed
If my brother was a girl
He would have been a dead girl
& I would have lost my soul
If I were more normal
The magic I create would be a fairytale
If I were taller
I would be taller…
If I had never found my heart
I would have become cold

Daddy, I miss you
Daddy, you’re an *******
Daddy, you made mom so happy
Daddy, I still wear those scares you gave me
Daddy, I hate you can’t hear me now
Daddy, New York City scares me
Daddy, I still cry in my heart
Daddy, I hope Lady is with you
Daddy, it hurts to be myself sometimes
Daddy, you’re missing things
Daddy, ******* with the fuckidy **** ****
Daddy, John misses you too
Daddy, I wish you could have met Jeremiah
Daddy, you were funny, & still are even to this day
Daddy, you were ****** up
Daddy, whatever
Daddy, I’d give you a hug if I could
Daddy, tornadoes are scary
Daddy, life goes on without you
Daddy, I love you

To whom it does pertain
There are so many words I could use
To describe to the world
My love and feelings

I who was silenced by emotions
For years…
Now I find the veil of silence
Being replaced with a veil of colorful adjectives
And verbs

I have always known
The words
They never came to me when I needed them most
This was your fault
And my burden
But I digress

In spite of all I’ve been through
I still look back to memories past
Sigh, and say
“I miss you”

I still hear you randomly
See your half cocked Joker’s smile
That comforts strangers
Because to you
There was no such thing.

Then I remember your hair
It was an onyx forest of infinite curls
How I loved raking through it
With my senses of smell and touch

It was always there
The smell of 3 flowers
It was still there
Even when you cut your forest.

Then there were your arms
A warm hug you passed around to anyone
It brings me to tears now
I miss it so…

Finally, there was your mouth
That accent that charmed the world
Your words
Funny, unique, silly, thoughtful
Emotional damaging, bitter, slightly offensive, obscene

Yet we all remember your laugh
And your driving…

Though wherever you are
I hope you found true peace and freedom
It’s hard to tell where you’ve actually gone.
I’d like to think you’re telling ***** jokes to Jesus.
Like he’s never heard them before.

I had a father
He was a jolly man
Full of laughter and mirth
Full of bitterness and sorrow
His eyes were bright as sienna jewels full of ambition
His laugh haunts my memory still
But then there was another side of him
Which has brought me emotional turmoil
To last the rest of my years
In spite of that,
He was my father
He was always there
He was haunted by the past and the present
Still he loved to make people happy
And then he left forever on a trip to Mobile
Innocently lying when he said he would come back soon
He spent the weekend there
A weekend that slipped into eternity
Though even now
It’s like he would return home soon
Like he will come back to the house in his way
But that can only happen in dreams now
And it is so apparent
How he was the light of his family…

I have a brother
Who came before I
Though we share the same father
It is so obvious that we do not share the same mother
He who ignores me
Living his own life
The king of lies
A charming crook
I see in his devilish grin
The words he believes I like to hear
Not the truth
Our relationship is a shattered piece of black tinted glass
Before I knew him, it was shaped in a beautiful figurine
Abstract and colorful
As I got to know him
It broke into many pieces
Then broke again with every lie
The color turned to black with every truthful revelation
My brother
Who is so much like my father
Yet nothing like him…

I have another brother
I’ve known him since before I could remember
My little brother
The breaker of my things…
I have sacrificed so much for him
Sometimes he is grateful
Sometimes he’s annoying
Always he is there
He’s so tall
Life made him taller than me
It’s not fair
I’m older
He is my greatest ally of the past
He is my worst enemy beyond myself
We are bound by love and blood
Forever related
Until one of us dies
Still I would miss him
I know he would miss me
My beloved brother
Let’s never live in the same state…

I had a grandfather
He would lie to me about his age
He lived his own life
Revolved around his daughter
He did not smoke
He did not drink
He swore like a sailor
And died of cancer of the tongue
He ignored me for the lifetime we shared
But he did acknowledge my presence
That we were related
I was able to say goodbye before he died
I didn’t cry when he left
I had a dream about him once
He gave me a puppy
It made me feel better…

I had an uncle
Who showed me
What a grandfather is suppose to be
He taught me how to gamble
He showed me unconditional love
He who had no grandchildren
Yet my brother and I were all he needed
We were blessed to have him in our lives
He lived far away
But that didn’t stop him from seeing us
As opposed to our own grandfather
Who lived in the same city as we lived
And had better things to do that spend time
With his grandchildren
That uncle of mine was my father’s uncle first
Showed my father the same kind of love
In his childhood days
Taught him how to gamble
Taught him how to love
I cried when he left us
But I know he has found peace
He came live near us at the end
I visit him from time to time…

There is a place I’d like to escape to
I know it doesn’t remember me
But I don’t care, I think of it still
The air full of decay from the first step
The decay of broken dreams
So strong you can smell it
Even though some dreams died long ago.

The green trees
Still green for those that haven’t died
Blow out air to the people that walk
And some who don’t
They have dreams of their own I imagine
None of which probably happen
I imagine if a tree dreamed
It would dream of living
Not to be cut down and used
By those who take its air
So in that case, the trees too
Breathe out broken dreams

In spite of that, it’s a lovely town
Full of half happy faces
And great coffee houses
Though I don’t know for sure because I like hot tea
At 9 pm, the streets are bare
A sleepy town that lives off broken dreams
I should visit there again…

Here I sit and wait for thee
Hope thou hasn’t forgotten me
May hearts be true and love to last
A call for my lover soon to pass

A walk upon a narrow path
One sheds a tear and then to laugh
Upon a lovely grove to see
That’s where my love shall first see me

Our eyes to meet, our hearts to blend
Our there on from then
Be bound together, heart and soul
To find something worth more than gold

But still I sit and wait for thee
Imagining something that may not be
May all ye dreamers find ye mate
And love last forever as if by fate.

She walks silently in the darkness, a predator of the night, floating in the sleeping shadows. The very image of her face is both mystical and terrible. A goddess, a devil, an angel, a demon, all could be said about her. She looks human, but she is nothing like. She is cold and without mercy. And in the words of Faye Valentine, “A demon from heaven, or an angel from the underworld”. Her face would deceive the undecieveable, for that is her bait. Her beauty is beyond compare, not even Cleopatra could compete with this thing that waits for the perfect moment to make another tragedy, for the paean hymns to fill the air once again. For deep down, she enjoys the dirges. The songs of death they keep her entertained. Maybe you’ll meet her one day. If you’re nice to her she’ll return the favor. But don’t be afraid and don’t bed her for your life like a coward…Because then you might not do anything more in this life or plane from that point on.

Mother
This is my gift to you
You are a lovely rose in the garden
A diamond to outshine the moon
Your love is beyond words
And for all that you’ve done for me
Thank you
I love you

This is a story about a girl
Who lived a beautiful life
But her spirit was crushed
& her heart was empty
She had fallen into the void
With no escape from the fiction
Or the bitter truths of reality
No happiness to be found
Until she met a boy
Who loved her more than life itself
He was the magic she never knew
It was strange & mysterious & full of imagination
Together, they created their fairytale romance

Woman
You are a goddess
Beneath the moon
You shine like a dream
Your beauty beyond vision
Men drool at the sight of you
There is a smooth & cool air about you
Always gorgeous
Always lovely
You are the diamond in the garden

I can see the magic in your love
I can see the days to come
And they are full of love & mystery
Here is to love, life, & romance
So for as long as you both live
May there be happiness
Always

Man and woman
Drunk with lust
Baring all
Raw passion
Yet not
Shaking away all that is repulsive
Blending into each other

Here is a girl
Wanted, sweet
Lovely and beautiful
Then there is a boy
Smooth, gorgeous
Shining and true
Together
They are those dreams of love
Lost in the moment
A symphony of whispers
Throughout time

She robbed his blood
She licked life away from him
The boy could not run faster from her
He wanted to live after all
But we all would

He will be different from other guys
He will have a great imagination
He will make me feel special
He will be energetic
He will have hair I could curl around my fingers
He will be taller than me, or shorter, it doesn't matter  
He will be clever and silly, but not stupid
He will hear my cry, no matter how far
He will hear my call, no matter how far
He will never hurt me out of anger
He will have an enchanting smile
He will have mesmerizing eyes
He will always listen to me, as I to him
He will take me out sometimes
He will buy me different kinds of flowers
He will be loyal and trustworthy
He will be in tune and in love with nature
He will always know how to cheer me up
He will be multicultural and multitalented
He will have a pure heart and soul
He will know what I'm saying without me saying a word
He will trust my judgment, as I will trust his
He will not be a smoker
He will be polite
He will be courageous
He will love all kinds of animals
He will love me for me, my inner self as well as my outer self

My love is not yours
I lust for you to be my sun
And I your moon
I want you to say to me
I love you
Man and woman together as one
Always
But it is a dream
A lie
You will not fall in my arms
It is me who is crying like a mad and frantic storm
Screaming and shaking
Delirious
These are the visions of sadness

I sit alone, wondering when this pain will end...
Where could he be? I'm waiting...
I'm impatient like a child....just like that
I wonder if he thinks of me.
The pain in my heart is feeling with emotions from last night...so many emotions fill my heart
I won't if he thinks I'm pretty
I want to smile, but I can't....
What the hell is wrong with me?
Bittersweet memories of a happy moment replay in my head
It fell so good to be near him...To have him touch my face...
He smelled good too....He was so sweet my heart melted...
I wonder how long till I see him again....
I'm so depressing it's tragic...

There are no true words
To express my love for you
For once in my life, there is safety
Safety in knowing I don’t have to cry anymore
At least not like I use to
I want this feeling to last me through the years
With you by my side, I know in my heart
That the numbness in not so numb
Oh, I’ve been numb so long
But with you
There is laughter
There is love
There is me