jmm - Hello Poetry

jmm May 2019

wholy.

you took me to your house last
night and held my mother’s hurt in
your arms made me whole again.
again i feel a sun of
an opportunity i haven’t felt since
the last time you

took me ice skating when i was five.
the snow has always felt like
entrapment to me
a boots on the ground
brawl to get above water.
as we slide on the
ice it threatens to crack beneath me and
break me by the leg that has fallen into the
thunder-rolling
ocean beneath.

but you tell a story of the time
you counted the slivers of white on the ice here,
the trembling pulse of a child’s whisper in the air
whistling through the trees.
and you dance with me without being careful
i’ve never felt so free

one day after your work decided to industrialize the father in you to death
and you decided i had died to you
and the feeling of the sun on my heart deferred
to a space on my forehead that my veins pulse out of
that next day i felt emptiness for the first time.
the ice underneath me broke me into an
avalanche of rumbling teardrops that shattered glass
and ice and
lasted for four long days.
the adult birthed in me breathed
and grew outside of my child body
and the little kid in me just watched until
her silence strangled her to
death?

today i know she’s living
child whisper whistling through my lungs and
learning how to dance in the day time
nurse the grown up to sleep
and take my space for her own
take my space for my own

for the first time today i played outside
found a frozen pond instead of that ice rink
and laid to face the sky,
fearless in the face of the wholy sun
but knowing that i am just as whole
-jmm

#divorce #father #love

jmm Dec 2018

bi: a letter to myself

dear —,
this is not divinity-
no empty pillowcase cape can make you fly
no lipstick can make you beautiful no girl can make you girl no
boy can’t make you boy
no night time prayers can make you god
girl,
you can’t hate yourself into a revolution
or love yourself into a label
boy,
bi-
child.
binary gendered thing
bipolar botched up baby with hit hard head
bisexual? still denying: gay **** queer ***** ***** *****
bi.
j,
this is no caution tape finish line-
no period can finish your seesaw story,
child,
sadness sometimes stretches like
semicolons or wet cement
flowing through this blood, waiting for the moment to harden
to cave you into yourself
to sink into nose too wide, heart too big, space
too much
you growing soul,
with samson strength put all
in two places
just because that ****** pillowcase can
catch your tears doesn’t mean
you will always be only to catch
You,
stand.
have you prayed your own salvation so much you’ve forgotten how it feels to
open your eyes
?
held yourself long enough your back can’t crack open again
?
searched solutions for phantoms so you can only see yourself problem
?
have you written so many poems that you expect me finished
here?
•••
darling,
not every poem has a conclusion
not every poem needs one.
and not every person is prose
where the solution wraps itself into a bow
you can’t keep conflict with yourself until it does
love,
sometimes the answer will pass through
falling failing chests and
pressed pastor palms
sometimes the answer isn’t prewritten
picture book in black and white/boy and girl
sometimes it’s You
somewhere in between-

#mentalillness #queer #bi #lesbian #nonbinary #prayer

jmm Oct 2018

dawn.

as the birds rise anger
flustered & fighting over
mountains we have trailed but never touched,
nymphs crouch on fields tickled but never trailed,
and linger on those haunting night songs-

this life warbles regret
memories of hair pressed flat in its jet black arrogance
non-existent hips trying to sway like those movies
you weren’t supposed to see-

now my best regret is having lived a life in love.
seems all of california stops
just for us to live.
and the soft glow of Dawn
pauses to press her hand on my cheek
mockingly, maybe,
today has started without me.

the hands of this watch are painted on with anxiety
painted with horses and notebooks
and posters and essays
and guitars and costumes
and.
maybe i should have stayed where i knew i belonged
maybe the sun has awakened for everyone but me
maybe i need.
maybe this is just pessimism-

but what would have been of me home?
atlanta has become but a burial ground now
when every land and every person
you know has left
you become acquainted with loneliness
you exchange numbers with isolation-
add them to your contacts list
you make amends with gods you’ve never known
listen to the devil dance of your heartbeat
and the angel cry of your breath with new intensity
even the dogs bark danger from here-

but god these mountains tryna steal my sunshine.
even in spineless seats i still sit straight,
sprinting seconds closing in and
there’s no cars up here,
but i swear i hear something running-
days beginning, never stopping till they end
this wish-seed schedule:
mumbling under my breath,
yelling from our diaphragm,
his mouth widening like horse ready to rear me off
comply,
he whispers with unhinged jaw,
you are mine now.
Mine.
this blood rush body is foreign to me
she’s spiraling again
but if we tell ourselves the truth
i’d know the schedules and the jobs to do
are nothing in comparison to losing you
i can grovel
and overcompensate
and wrench myself open just to sew myself back shut again,
but what will that do?
destiny is in the secrets of the pausing sun-

the only things these mountains have taught me is my mother:
the way her hips wind in the hills,
eyes wander like leaves strewn across this city,
lips grass kissing the soles of my feet,
hair rivers sounding somewhere-
there’s a drought here now.
no mother steps away to sing me
sugar coated struggle sounds of living
it’s no wonder now i sing and it sounds of Sorrow
she sounded of the stars and now my voice sounds of empty
when i left i left my spine there with her-

passion
should be lived knowing that it is mine.
should be stop
and interact with the olympus skin body controlling me:
whack away at the leaves
herd through abandoned cows
on newly mannered pirate of a horse
and look those obstacles in the mirror
should tell it
no
should be chuckle in its face should be
accomplish spiteful, but never hateful
should live forgiveness, but never premature
should live
Mine

#mother #freeverse #regret #sun

jmm Sep 2017

Mo(u)rning

I

My mother speaks with rumbling tongue
And whispering words
Her hips are mountains I yearn to reach each morning
Dawn’s rose fingers stretching
Across mother’s soil toned skin
Her eyes are seeds the flowers drop as I pass
Her wind pushing eyes to follow me
Always watching

I speak with trembling tongue
And whispering words
My hips are boulders stuck in wrong places
Paper fingers pushing
Against rock sturdy skin
My eyes are leaves scattering before you catch them
Body too much
Trying to shrink
Always hiding

She speaks with clear tongue
And frozen words
All hands fighting
For her pure snow skin
Her eyes are never ending blue sky and breeze
Reliable
Lovable
Never needing to be always

II

My mother’s mouth never closes
Never leaves room for another to open his
Her hair,
Is silk curtain draping to wood floor as she blooms
Mouth growing with each truth, a fairytale
Where everyone wants to save her
But she doesn’t need to be saved

So when the man at thrift store counter
Tells me I should know how to *******
I yearn to look to mother and sigh
Instead

My mouth never opens
Can’t bare white teeth
They look more like flags to you
My hair,
Is rope noose tightening to twisted throat as voice booms
Spine shrinking at each eerie smile, a nightmare
Where everyone wants to save me
But I don’t need to be saved

She is in line after me
Thrift store man gives her sweet smile
And the exchange has disintegrated into ashes

III

My mother has seen ashes
Should have birthed children into fire pit to save time
My mother will want to be ashes
She is the only allowed to say her name in vain
Once mother’s mouth is closed
No one else may open theirs
We will rebirth her
Into white sun
Rumbling oceans
Rolling mountains
Seeds of flowers so she can be carried by the wind
Always watching

I have seen ashes
****** black bodies tainting pure white snow
Felt my brother slip through fingers
Swam with him in ocean
I will want to be ashes
Because thrift store men with paper fingers may see my body and think
“****,
I should have made her mine
When her spine could bend with my touch
I could lift her from boulder hips
And find us a cave that she could close
And never move again”
Instead
I want to be scattered across leaves
Across mountains
Across seeds
Breathed into someone
A woman like me
My sister
Might inhale and

IV

Know that her hair is beautiful
As rope- or cotton- or silk
Tongue is necessary
As ocean, or earthquake
Hips don’t need to be a ******* mountain
For someone to stretch their fingers around her
Carefully
Lovingly
And I will apologize
Whilst floating throughout the world
And seeing nature’s wonders
For speaking in metaphor
When I saw nature’s wonders
Each morning when I kissed my mother
On her cheek
And looked in the mirror
At my eyes
And saw people
Saw beauty

P.S.

She wanted a funeral
One last chance to have people speak of her
She knew they would always say good things and give sweet smiles
And the exchange will disintegrate like ashes

#death #family #bodypositivity #ashes #feminism

jmm Sep 2017

For the football players who took a knee :

In response to "To the football players who took a knee," by PluviopileSr:

In response to all of the people who have tried to silence our suffering:

So, you think we are disrespectful?

Jump into my skin.  Walk to school each morning, head held high and feet grounded into the concrete.  Continue walking as cars rush by, and pretend not to notice as some of them roll down their windows.  Be warned, they will hurl insults at you.  "N-ggers don't belong here."  "Get off our street."  They will hurl back-handed compliments.  "You so fine, mama, you gotta be mixed."  "Come in my car, baby, that *** belongs here."  Don't respond, but know that later these words will echo in your head, making you a foreigner in your own home. Get used to saying "no," without saying no at all.  And when you do refuse, don't be surprised when those people pull over and leap out of their cars.  They will follow you.  And you will have to determine whether to stay and fight or to run.
That is disrespect.

Get taken aside by a mall cop.  Have that cop ask your best friend if he stole the shoes that sat on his feet.  Watch them argue, attempt to step in and pacify them both, and listen as the cop spits at you,"N-ggers like you are always lying."  Your best friend will respond like lightning, but you will feel the entire world begin moving in slow-motion.  His fist will pull back, veins popping through his dark skin, and your first response will be to hold him back and push him away.  To avoid any chance of conflict.  Avoid any chance of danger.  He will try to fight, and you will not.

Elders teach us that if you act and dress professionally, keep your hands where the officer can see them, and don't speak back, then nothing bad will happen to us.  But take a moment to watch a video.  Watch Alton Sterling, whose name I still have trouble saying out loud, be shot as he lay on the ground.  Watch Delrawn Small simply approach a police car before he is shot.  Watch this happen over and over and over again from the intolerable comfort of your bedroom.  Your brother's blood is spilling on the concrete.  Your sister's feet are dangling from the floor, and you are doing nothing.  You are not allowed to do or say anything without being told that you are disrespectful. People police your tone in order to muffle your message.

No one who is protesting has said a word against the military, against the people who fought for us to be safe from other countries.  The two topics are completely different.  But we cannot forget that now is the time to protect all of our citizens.  Protect us from each other, from extrajudicial ******, from the system that has kept people of color from feeling heard in America.  The flag stands for a history of citizens who fought for their freedom, but we can't deny that it also holds the black blood which has been spilled and never given justice.

The military and the ****** of black men in America are completely different topics.  Putting them together is irrational, and it is a way to divert from the meaning of kneeling during the National Anthem:

Our country is in a state of distress.  If no one will acknowledge that, we will fly our own flags half-mast.

There is not a God who can provide liberty and justice for all.  He does not change people's minds.  It is our job to live, live freely, and to make our own choices on how to treat the people around us.  Whether or not you follow the Bible, Torah, Quran, Bhagavad Gita, or anything else, we must acknowledge our differences and treat each other with love.  Your emotions and choices are your own.

So yes. I'll take a knee with Colin Kaepernick. I'll do that any day, if it means not standing with the system that makes life more difficult every day.  Because what is more important: being safe or being heard?

#blacklivesmatter #nfl #takeaknee #nationalanthem #social #socialjustice #race #racerelations

jmm Sep 2017

Autumn Leaves

Autumn Leaves

It was when we were dancing on your bedroom floor-
Spinning on our toes and falling to each others' arms
Hair tangling eyes mistaking yours
For autumn leaves that I realized
I was in love with you.
I promptly raked the leaves back into a straight pile to avoid for centuries
Jealousy, prickling up my skin
As goosebumps from the breeze
That comes when someone else jumps
Into the mountain of leaves that I love

Her hair, caked underneath his fingers
Her eyes, shining down to light up the night
Her voice, a summer-ending serenade
Her laugh, a whistling wind to add more leaves to the pile
I smiled, in agony
Took my shovel and tried to bury you with my heart
To continue having dark nights and quiet days
I am ashamed
I am sorry

It was when my mind and I were dancing on my bathroom floor-
Spinning in my head and falling to my knees
Hair pulling eyes watering as I regurgitated the very last of my pills that I told myself
I could love you
I promptly picked the shovel up and dug where I heard the voice keeping me from dying
Crying as I found that while I was falling in love with you,
You were busy remaking yourself into a playground
For this boy,
Raking yourself up for him to jump into
Over and over again

My spine, cracked underneath his footsteps
My eyes, a sparkling ocean to swim in at night
My voice, the broken glass blues
My sob, sheet music for a guitar out of tune
My room called me inside
Took its comforters and tried to suffocate me
So there was no more night and day,
Only sleep

I know, you're just a girl
But you were also, just my life source
Just my first love
Just the only person who can calm down both me and my mind
I've tried so hard, but I can't find anybody else
Darling, you're a miracle worker
Controlling the winds to build up a world around you that included him, yet kept me alive

It was when your mind and I were dancing on the office floor-
Spinning around in circles and falling into corners
Hair protecting eyes connecting as we forget the world around us that you told me
You loved me
I promptly picked the shovel up and dug where my heart was beating loud and clear
It wasn't too far down
Frowns remember the one you erased from memory
And I want to build you up to never be torn down again
But that would take away his only playground

His mouth, spitting fire at the ground licking the burn marks on my waist
His feet, stomping where the glowing pile of autumn leaves used to be
His hands, grasping at whatever he can find, very likely his own throat
His mind, fighting against the sadness that took over me and will inevitably come to him too
Cruel to do something when you know it would hurt them
To take his actions and reverse them, give him a taste of his own medicine

But fall means recess breaks to fix my loving autumn leaves,
Means crisp air to wipe away his tears
Means grass dies faster than I do
Means autumn leaves fall almost as fast as I fall in love again

— The End —