There's no greater curse to the ears of man,
When I arrive at the bar, set with my plan,
Taking a seat by the cute innocent lad,
I don't want to seem like some dying fad,
I put in the effort, put me to the test,
Hear the mournful groan let out by the rest.

you may write me down in history
with your bitter, twisted lies,
you may tread me in the very dirt,
but still, like dust, I’ll rise

does my clumsiness upset you?
why are you beset with gloom?
‘cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
pumping in my living room.

just like moons and like suns,
with the certainty of tides,
just like hopes springing high,
still I’ll rise

did you want to see me broken?
bowed head and lowered eyes?
shoulders falling down like teardrops
weakened by my soulful cries.

does my haughtiness offend you?
don’t take it awful hard
‘cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
diggin’ in my own backyard.

you may shoot me with your words,
you may cut me with your eyes,
you may **** me with your hatefulness,
but still, like air, I’ll rise.

does my hotness upset you?
does it come as a surprise?
that I dance like I’ve got diamonds
at the meething of my thighs?

out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
up from a past that’s been rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
i am the dream and hope of the slave.
i rise
i rise
i rise
— A.P.

She is barefoot, running
Brushing the dewy grass, the golden sun strings threading.
The moon hugging
Out of the fog, at last. Under the rain Celebrating.
Drip, drop

Her sorrows she sees
On her skin Sliding
Let the gravity takes its course
Drip, drop to the river they go

The flood of thoughts against the stream, they dissolve
Under the water, her breath she holds
Ecstasy for milliseconds, she folds

There goes the fish. There the sorrows go

Drip, drop
Out of the fog, she goes

you are the illuminated
manuscript
I, the reader
   the lover
   of you

show me your illuminations
your singing arabesques
   the music
   of you

chant your canticle
hidden in the golden calligraphy
   wrapped
   within you

open your pages
to me -- for
I am the reader
   the lover
   of you


c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

Do you ever really move on
From your first

I still get that feeling
In this huge city

Will I see him?
Will he see me?

No one has done better
with making me Love Sick

I thought I could play like you
I thought I was playing WITH you

I was just playing along
With my own Love Sick song