His words were delicately dipped in rationality.
Each lie was well thought out,
perfectly imitating the definition of truth.
Reassuring promises slipped from his lips,
like steaming cheese from a slice of pizza.
I was nearly tempted to take a small bite,
knowing the irresistibly of his delicious concoction
would lead to my devouring of the rest
and an eternal heartburn.
But logic protected me from his lies
like a hood shelters a head from shattering raindrops and forceful winds
that can easily cause a mind set in stone to weather and crumble.
His eyes traced the angles of my face,
searching to see if I had bought his false advertisements.
And what he discovered was that I had not;
I was not too blind to see the Pinocchio in front of me.

They told him to be a carpenter.
His stupid black fingers could never form equations of substantial value;
they were simply meant to grow callused and rough,
like his soul,
as they built the large houses he could never afford.

They told him to be a painter.
He lacked the skill to be an inventor-
to create light or wind or space like his God.
His hands could never create sound
as they floated through air in front of an orchestra.
They could only transform the house his brother built into a color he couldn't spell.

They told him to be a miner.
The coal could blend with his skin,
hopefully thick enough to smother him out of society.
The soot from his skin would cover the beakers and test tubes,
making him incapable of performing the experiments necessary
to develop a more reasonable resource in a lab that could save the world from death.

They told him to be a mechanic.
His hands were meant for hard labor, oil and grease,
not healing ailing bodies as their organs began to falter from an automobile collision.
He was too dumb to save a life;
he could only fix a car for a dead corpse.

They told him what he could be
in order to tell him he was incapable of greater things
as he held his dark face with darker features in his hands, weak from wiping tears.
People build their dreams based on encouragement-
this man knew no such words.

He told me I would be a doctor.
My hands were meant for healing hearts and multiplying white blood cells,
as well as lives and smiles.
I would save a nation, a dying breed of people
because God has given me His own hands.

He told me I would be a lawyer.
My hunger for justice would fuel a revolution
and all would know their innocence held true value.
The rights of men were of sincere importance and I would protect them at all costs,
especially young men told to be painters and carpenters,
because I was one of the few with the integrity to do so.

He told me I would be a president.
My words would meet a standard higher than those on the political spectrum.
I would part the seas flooding a nation
because I had been blessed by the Holy Waters of God.
The theory that peace was in a land too far away would be broken
as I carried the world to the Promise Land.

He told me I would be an astronaut.
I would defy the status quo while defying gravity
as I became the greatest pioneer since Sacagawea.
My brilliant mind would fill with every star I peeled from the sky to light my path to Heaven.
And I would show the globe how to fly despite the odds.

He told me what I could be in order to tell me I was capable of great things
as my small, tan hand intertwined with his dark hand, callused and rough from raising a child of God.
He knew that people build their dreams based on encouragement-
and I know the words he never had the chance to.

--For my Dad

Little girl, age of three,
fell off her bike and scraped her knee.
Mommy came into the scene,
cleaned her cut and patched her dream.
And so she rides on.

Little girl, age of ten,
was in a fight with her best friend.
Mommy came onto the set,
and told her baby not to fret.
And so she stays strong.

Little girl, age sixteen,
wasn’t deemed Homecoming queen.
Mommy came to save the day,
assured the ballot was switched anyway.
And so she smiles on.

Little girl, age twenty-one,
scared to know she’ll have a son.
Mommy came into her house,
told her she’d picked the perfect spouse.
And so she loves on.

Little girl, age twenty-four,
unsure of who she was anymore.
Mommy came into her room
and swept her doubt like the kitchen broom.
And so she continues on.

Little girl, age forty-two,
worried that her life was through.
Mommy rode with her in the car,
promised her death was off afar.
And so she drives on.

Little girl, age fifty-five,
realizes that her mom has died.
She brings back the memories of her mom
and knows she’d say that life goes on.
And so she goes on.

Strength is not the resistance of falling
nor the man who moves mountains by force.
It is not determined by weights lifted during training
nor the beads of sweat that trickle from his brow.
It is not muscle.
It is not efficiency.
Strength is not the ease displayed in times of adversity
nor the prevention of shedding tears.
It is not determined by hills run at an impossible pace,
the lack of aches and pains after exercise.
It is not hardness.
Is is not power.
Strength is the rise from tragedy,
the man who moves mountains by faith.
It is the lone blossom daring to bloom in the snow,
the drive erected from words meant to defeat.
It is persistence.
It is valor.
It is aspiration.
It is you.

Your words are soft and steady in my hand
running away through the dark ink in my pen
getting carried away
making love to each sheet of paper.
Kissing corners of pages, curling corners of mouths
while by passers rejoice to see true young love
with passion and honesty
as each letter was formed
making love to each sheet of paper.
Shivers dance down my spine
passing through every inch of my body
as my pen begins caressing, gently
making love to each sheet of paper.
The sound of your voice echoes purely
provoking a deeper act of love
as I pour out all the contents of my soul while
making love to each sheet of paper.
I twisted with delight as my chest sunk and rose
at an increasing rate-
that unreal feeling you get, after
making love to each sheet of paper.

I hear their voices in my head,
remarks that stab my lungs
stealing my breath with their selfish fingers.
A groggy haze of hatred crowds into my ears,
deafening me to the sweet melodies of the world.

I see their faces in my mind,
their eyes rolling faster than Wal-Mart’s prices
as they discover every imperfection in my soul.
Each harsh smirk that slips in my direction only further blinds me
from the riches that lie beneath the heavens.

I taste them on my tongue,
their toxic flavor erupts in my quiet mouth,
rough as it slowly slides down my throat.
The poison that seasons their bodies seeps deep into my core,
rotting my heart like last week’s meatloaf.

I feel their comments bonding my hands and feet,
tighter with each curse of my name.
I feel their cold touch on my skin,
burning through the line of defense I had mentally prepared
causing damage through my flesh to my veins as it burns without a heated ignition.

I smell the stench of their lies,
the dishonesty of their words stings my nose with each inhalation.
Every breath weakens my heart as their toxins surge
through my body and over take my will to remain pure.
This scent will remain forever in my nostrils.

Through the course of these events they have stolen my senses-
my most valued possessions,
my true wealth that once allowed me to view the world’s beauty.
And sent me into my Great Depression.

Window latches unhook to reveal the awakening sun.
Fresh air enters nostrils,
so calming,
soothing.
Marvelous.
Sweet kisses on mouths from Mother Nature send
humbled quivers down spines.
Cheeks blush,
soft velvet wings flatter corners of lips into gentle smiles
while carrying a tune of Spring’s captivating elation.
Mornings started off purely-
flirting with spring,
butterflies
and oxygen.

My daddy left us in a hurry
couldn’t wait to dance with angels.
Mama always used to say,
“Don’t you ever need no man, Honey.”

And I retained this thought,
further seeping into the crevices of my mind
with each reminder that trickled from her tongue.

“Don’t you ever need no man, Honey.”
I never did.
Always made sure to keep my space,
never let them too close to the barriers that guarded my heart.
Built my house of bricks-
neither huff nor puff could blow it down.

“Don’t you ever need no man, Honey.”
I never could.
Each time I willed one to slip through my welded gates
the bolts would twist further right
preventing the escape of my unborn love.

This way of life never did change for me,
but Mama was prematurely aged with tears,
fallen ill with the sickness of the heart.
She no longer spoke in the same melodious notes,
her eyes desperate for the return of her angel.

One day I told her,
“Don’t you ever need no man, Honey.”
She wished she never had.

Raindrops shattered as they broke their fall on sturdy branches,
which birthed little, leafy sprouts
and nurtured them to grow into brilliant fruits of the spirit,
each bearing a unique mold; a hue all its own.
These fruits were created by the gentle hand of God,
delicately formed to grow into bright, beautiful masterpieces.
The fruits dwelled peacefully, each on their proper tree in good health and condition.
That is, until the farmer’s market faltered,
and a new farmer cam into control on this farm with lovely fruit
to examine the complexities
and deem the impurities for which he blamed the lack of prosperity.
These fruits were banished from the farm,
sent to disposals to rid the farm of their unwanted presence.
It took the members of this farmer’s market nearly six long years
to understand the lack of necessity of this farmer’s technique
and to liberate these fruits from the grasp of his wrath.
But by then the damage was done-
and the farm has never functioned quite the same.

Snowflakes whisper in my ears.
Snowflakes tickle my nose.
Innocent, crystallized, playful tears
that make my face childishly glow.

Plump little men that are made out of snow,
and buttons and over-sized clothes.
I'll stay outside to play with him, though,
I've lost all the feeling in my toes.

And angels descend down from the sky
and leave their marks on the ground.
They kiss the snow, oh so shy.
A sight exceedingly profound.

A cup of cocoa and off to bed!
The snow still falling so peacefully.
I close my eyes, my nose still red,
and find myself in snow-covered dreams.

With you it's always the same,
every conversation and moment in a day.
Your cold eyes burn massive holes through my heart.
Your words painfully ring inside my head.
Your remarks pierce deeper than swords.
and your laughter fills the air at the expense of my esteem.
Give me some variation.

The disruption of this element is clear on my face
Reality has poked me in the eye
reversing the cold, neglect I had chosen
as my best line of defense

Reality has poked me in the eye
Now I am aware of the cruelty in my heart I’d chosen
as my best line of defense
to avoid succumbing to a subsequent status

Now I am aware of the cruelty in my heart I’d chosen
to rid me of the burdens of life
to avoid succumbing to a subsequent status
with heart break and pain, tears and shame

To rid me of the burdens of life
I ignored the natural processes experience requires
with heart break and pain, tears and shame
and went where the grass was supposed to be greener

I ignored the natural processes experience requires
I’d planned to make my own magic
and went where the grass was supposed to be greener
only to find that there are more complexities in life than I’d known

I’d planned to make my own magic
to make things perfect despite the odds
only to find out that there are more complexities in life than I’d known
The disruption of this element is clear on my face

They say when you die, your name is written in the clouds.
I hope you remember to look for me.
My name will soon be engraved on the welcome mats of heaven,
just know I once was someone who danced with butterflies.

I hope you remember to look for me.
I am sorry for who I became before I drifted away...
just know I once was someone who danced with butterflies.
I was not always rain on the parade.

I am sorry for who I became before I drifted away...
My eyes had become blind to the light behind grey clouds.
I was not always rain on the parade,
but I allowed it to revive me and nourish your soul.

My eyes had become blind to the light behind grey clouds.
I had fallen to fear, letting it paralyze my heart,
but I allowed it to revive me and nourish your soul.
Now look where we stand.

I had fallen to fear, letting it paralyze my heart.
It took death to remind me how to live.
Now look where we stand
as your head is cocked up at the sky.

It took death to remind me how to live.
I hope you remember this lesson and let it mold you
as your head is cocked up at the sky.
Please hear me, believe me, know it's true.

I hope you remember this lesson and let it mold you.
Don't repeat the same course I drifted away on...
Please hear me, believe me, know it's true-
when you die, your name really is written in the clouds.

And when all was still, two sisters held a late night conversation:

"Sister, why does thunder roar?"
"Because daddy just told a joke and all the angels are laughing hysterically."

"Sister, why does rain fall?"
"Because daddy is crying because he misses seeing your smile."

"Sister, why does lightning flash?"
"Because daddy is turning his flashlight on and off to find his way back to you,
mommy, and me."

"Sister, why does the sun shine?"
"Because daddy's eyes light up when he remembers how beautifully you
laughed when he would tickle you for hours upon hours."

"Sister, why do fierce winds blow?"
"Because daddy is sighing because he can't hold you in his strong arms
anymore."

And lastly she asked:

"Sister, why did daddy have to leave?"
"Because God needed a weather maker, so God picked daddy."

Make me no promises.
If there aren’t any promises,
then nothing’s ever broken.

Swear to me nothing.
If there aren’t any oaths,
there are never any curses.

Grant me no wishes.
If there aren’t any lamps,
my genie never disappears.
Never excite me.
If there aren’t any rushes,
there are never any mistakes.

Attempt nothing on my behalf.
If you don’t attempt,
I’ll never experience disappointment.

Give me no comfort.
If arms never encircle me,
arms will never let me go.

Play no games with me.
If no games are played,
I’ll never lose.

Pick the petal “Loves me not.”
If I don’t fall in love,
I’ll cry no tears at night.

They watched as she tried
and they laughed as she cried.
Saying the shadow girl would never be quite as good as the best.

She lives in a shadow set by a 5'10 star
who talked through a method unteachable.
She talked through a ball, a court, and a shot.
One that the county has still not forgot.

Then appeared a little shadow
who wanted to make a name for herself.
But the season came
along with the shame,
because the method was not taught to the shadow.

She dreamed of a day
when her name would be known.
And she'd no longer be a shadow.

But no one else sees how she truly feels.
And so it seems
she'll always be...
the shadow girl.

January's snowy nights
Feelings that I think are right
The smile I get when you're in sight
I think that I'm in love

February's rosy hearts
Dying when we are apart
Valentine’s candy, sweet and ****
I think that I’m in love

March’s greenery is growing
Strong affection surely showing
Gentle breezes gently blowing
I think that I’m in love

April is slow with steady rain
Without you, my heart bears such pain
And no happiness I can sustain
I think that I’m in love

May’s flowers and variety
Feeding into our anxiety
As one, we’ll fight cruel society
I think that I’m in love

June is filled with summer fun
We play, we laugh, emotions run
Toes are baking in the sun
I think that I’m in love

July my heart beats wildly for you
Praying that our love will be true
By your side in all that we do
I think that I’m in love

August flying by so fast
Love’s the scene and we’re the cast
Promises to make this last
I think that I’m in love

September’s way of slowing down
Hoping that you’ll stick around
Without you, I’m a foolish clown
I think that I’m in love

October’s pumpkins, plump and gay
Pleasant thoughts I’d like to say
A perfect future on it’s way
I think that I’m in love

November’s winds and starry skies
Vast, deep oceans in your eyes
The softest words that hypnotize
I think that I’m in love

December’s flurries filled with glee
My love says, “Will you marry me?”
My heart shouts; I’m his bride to be.
Oh boy, am I in love!

I am a mother
with the natural ability to piece together words
that give birth to butterflies in bellies.

I feed these beautiful creatures of my own design
with bits of eraser and words of trust and hope
as I perfect their nourishment.

They thirst on the constant flow of ink
that bleeds effortlessly from my pen
like milk from a mother's breast.

I comfort them with a smile of metaphoric delight
as they grow from wings reflecting adolescence
to those patterned with confidence.

When their wings can fully function,
and the power of my words live inside you,
I feel the satisfaction only a mother knows.

Smiles like an angel,
     scrunches her nose from such sweet
          butterfly kisses.

secrets whispered 'cross his lips
with power to sink battleships

a simple story, old and new
beginning with an i love you

allowing for a ride of fate
with words of love and words of hate

but always filled with passion brewed
beginning with an i love you

and ending with the kiss of death,
a lonely tear, a hold of breath

a shattered world, a heart in two
beginning with an i love you

(True Story)

Sitting there so beautifully,
the one who had stolen my heart from me.
I walked right by
to catch his eye
but caught a pole instead.

When old was old and new was new,
before my heart beat fondly for you,
when lies weren't told and all was true,
I knew a better me.

When right was done and wrong was not,
before my battles with love were lost,
when everyone loved and nobody fought,
I knew a better me.

I miss the days when I was young;
I'd wake to see the rising sun.
I'd laugh and jump and skip and run.
The better me I knew.

Please help me find that younger me
when I would act so childishly
and had big dreams of who I'd be.
I need to find me.