the urban ecosystem
breeds the urban beast;
the two-legged feral brute

they board their clockwork motorcages
the young ones in predatious packs
the old, too weathered to care
animal autonomy
born from sweatshop routines

i imagine myself
as a metropolitan jane goodall
observing and assimilating
taking note of the cacophony of
hoots and and hollers
the city-born mating calls
the high-topped courtship dances
******* civility born from enslaved mindsets

a young, dark-skinned boy
let's rhyme flow freeformed
to the rhythm of a young girls dancing feet
stomps and claps excite the celebration
of abandoned social etiquette
and of my foreign presence

i resemble some exotic missing link
a mix of this, that and the other
my skin, a rare quilt
and this draws more attention
than a gold-dusted african queen

i place myself in the back
peering through the windows of this transit jungle
feeling my heart skip beats
boom...boom...shhhh...
i must've left my rhythm in my other heritage
because i can't catch the ancient flow
but my neck leads my head in bobs

my brain rattles with old soul memories
and i see these young folks on the train
held back by centuries of black struggle
but forever rejoicing in african pulse
forever embodying our ancestoral pride

and i think, how peculiar
on the outside looking in like a fishbowl
exiled from my own brown-skinned tribe
with my oppression fitted like a glove
my blackness a mere disguise
my blackness camouflage
my blackness
not quite
black
enough

world be still around me
these legs are ocean-sick

my spirit is disgorging
waves of ambivalence crashing
into the S.S. Lost Hope

the moon pulls the High tide dancing
across a weathered life’s surface
as if tugging the strings of a marionette
always a smile
painted on

always a light reflected
borrowed guidance from the Sun
sorrow hiding, obvious
under transparent hellos
glossed over goodbyes

i can be bright like her
queen helios
but i illuminate sadness
pain, struggle, scars

she speaks and flowers grow
i sympathize as rivers flow
down crying mountain faces
bathing in manic springs
celebrating the nakedness
of being lonesome

because we all weep
into the same sea
and none are certain
but they want to be

we all want
to be

i once dreamt of forever after
                                               happily
until those words you spoke
                                              drifted
again­st my confessing whisper that frightened you
                                             away

the weight was, to say the least,
                                           unbearable
i reached into my own chest for
                                          reassurance
but instead found a decrepid box
                                          full up
of misremembered moments
                                         of lies

once, you thought of me, cold
in the breeze rustled mountains of Colorado
the moon must’ve told you to miss me
the trees must’ve whispered, “Look up.”

Lady Luna’s warm reflection made me want to wish on stars
sent me all romantic and hopeful and naive
I felt tiny in your thoughts like you did in the hole in my wall
but you climbed through, already planning
your barely daring escape.

And now, nights are hard to listen to
this bed is hard to sleep in lonesome
and your memory lies within my muscles
my chest rises shallow without your breath to match

you once danced graceful with me in slumber
but the blue rhythm of dreams has left with you
and i’ve forgotten how i ever waltzed alone

you used to send a chill through my bones
a warning sign, perhaps, of the inevitable
it must have been the ice around your heart
that made you complain of always feeling so **** cold


the sky here is clear again
and i'm sent into reminiscent wishing
on a sympathetic moon
as her voice grows weary of reminders
to miss me

They say knowledge is power yet I feel weak.
When strength is in numbers and no one knows,
then how shall the earth go to the meek?

Power is the knowledge that people will agree
when no other option is addressed
and the media controls what we see.

The tele-images flash black and blue
beating our minds to a ****** pulp
and delivering news that’s untrue.

Television tells us lies
Through reporter spies
who invade our lives.

And only the truly informed will fight
for the rights of the freethinking brain
so the rest can sleep well at night.

We believe the clockwork illusions
drawing miserable conclusions.
Yet no one stops to decipher these cerebral intrusions
or question these mass delusions.

What, now, does our youth stand for?
What is it that makes us tick?
What kind of truth do we bring forth?

We have bludgeoned the idea of originality,
We've killed individuality, embraced naivete
and wasted opportunity.

So where shall we end up?
When will we stand up?

Our generation will shape the next,
yet we, ourselves, are misshapen.
When communication is reduced to text,
when will our youth awaken?

* This is Generation X

let’s just end this pleasantly
you do what you please
without this dreary back and forth
vying for what exactly..?

any touch other than mine?
some barren wasteland
of some used up ****
or greasy Mexican
hardened ******* ****

this takes too much
of my precious time
or wasted time
either way

i heard the faintly
familiar sound of you
running out on reality,
like Alice chasing
that elusive rabbit
falling into a spiral
downward
facing dog

had your sleeves rolled up
and denim pulled down
hoping to fool yet
another kind of beating *****
hidden beneath layers of
thick cotton blend fabric
whose fibers remind me
of connection --

you know, that thing
that we pretended
to have.

like that time
that I told you
I owned a cat that died
in the fire of an
invented childhood

it felt almost real
like us

you washed your hands
three times that day
and you still
can’t get me off

can’t get me out
from under your
masticated claws

why so anxious?

i saw the nerves
pulsating beneath your
nearly transparent skin
hands clammy and cold
like your usual demeanor

you asked if I’d moved on,
well, I hadn’t but my body did
so I aggressed passively
the way you begged me to

yes, she was prettier than you
and yes, she was funnier than you
yes, she gave a better kiss
with softer lips
and she tasted like a
spoonful of sugar
helped the alcohol
go down

you secreted poison
into us and into me
lies soaked in formaldehyde
dripping from between
your trembling, dope sick
walking sticks

an act you balanced well
with no recognition of any
sort of lines
no black or white, just gray
like the cloud
hanging over your head

you rained down
self loathing and dread
and it soaked through my clothes
til my skin wrinkled

i couldn't take it anymore
i couldn't fake it anymore
and i felt bad for lying to you

but in retrospect
i should have lied a little more
i should have yelled a little more
to make you suffer
just a little more

that night before the very end
i sat alone, singing songs
of unrequited love
with a guitar between my legs
while you screamed for drugs
with a strangers ****
between yours

i walked into a room made dark
heard the sound of a dying heart
this girl had met the monster

so i sat beside her
and i watched her cry
a breakdown, given up
i don't know why
she wouldn't tell

i looked at her and felt
this burrowing pain
this seething bain
this violated sense of dismay
a forever changed
kind of feeling

i offered a comforting
hand to hold but
my palms were far too cold
my tongue was tied by a life untold

i felt i could say nothing
to put her mind at ease
except that "it happened to me.."

i've met that monster, too
he hides in boys too close to you
waits til he knows most of you
lies to you and calls it truth

he's the worst kind of thief
he's a charming fiend
he smiles sweetly
dresses neatly
and prays

no, not to any sort of god
but on every sort of girl
innocent enough
to deserve it

and we all pretend
to be unnerved
while all our insides are
so shook up
that our legs forget to keep us up

i told her she was not alone
this world is filled with tainted souls
lost and shattered
pieces stole

yes, it's all too real
the hardest thing to ever hope
to heal from
when everyday you smell his stench
every subtle motion makes you flinch

so i told this girl to be not afraid
because she can make them go away
for, monsters can never win
when you don't believe in them