Give me your hand

Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

Let others have
the privacy of
touching words
and love of loss
of love.

For me
Give me your hand.

Preacher, don't send me
when I die
to some big ghetto
in the sky
where rats eat cats
of the leopard type
and Sunday brunch
is grits and tripe.

I've known those rats
I've seen them ****
and grits I've had
would make a hill,
or maybe a mountain,
so what I need
from you on Sunday
is a different creed.

Preacher, please don't
promise me
streets of gold
and milk for free.
I stopped all milk
at four years old
and once I'm dead
I won't need gold.

I'd call a place
pure paradise
where families are loyal
and strangers are nice,
where the music is jazz
and the season is fall.
Promise me that
or nothing at all.

There are some nights when
sleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wiles
that I employ to win
its service to my side
are useless as wounded pride,
and much more painful.

Her glowing silver hand,
Grasping desperately at

Shreds of brocade silk,
Glittering in the moonlight

Disappearing into the moonlight

My mind to frolic, with words of Frost
Slides between and then is lost

Drifting ‘round to fellows long
My thirst is deep; desires strong

Filled with all that Maya says
Flits in and out my meddling head

And ah, when Pablo speaks of love
My heart's aflutter with pure white doves

Around the beat, who else but Poe
A deep dark place I've come to know

I stop to ponder the words worth
As if I've nursed them from their birth

I settle to hear the rambling brook
Where Gwendolyn baits my eager hook

Then ‘long comes Oscar, running wild
I listen like an eager child

When Langston paints his colored hues
His canvas fills my point of view

Not just the finest spinning me
To this state of flux and reverie

For verses drift from near and far
Forever reaching for the stars

Feeding on the gentle night
I languish in the word's delight

Finding rhyme from ‘neath the skin
The place where passion's settled in

To fill my cup, appease my soul
Till hunger's sated, fat and whole

The empty space behind my eyes
Is filled with life's sweet lullabies

And when at last, I lay to rest
I'm filled with cadence of the best

I loved you.
I really did.

I loved the way your smile
Would light up your eyes.

The way your jokes
Would always make me laugh.

I wanted to be yours,
And you, mine.

But eventually,
I moved on.

I kept telling myself
That it was a stupid, silly crush.

A summer of regrets,
Constantly relived memories.

Eventually,  I learned to be
The third wheel.

To be friendly when talked to,
Quiet and unnoticeable the rest of the time.

Soon, I will fade away entirely.
My mind is already halfway there.

I don't know why I felt anything for you,
Because I knew it couldn't work out from the start.

So, whoever that special someone is,
I hope she isn't as stupid as I am.