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acm  Oct 2018
hey, dummy!
acm Oct 2018
(or why start smoking
in your late thirties)

a confession.

the w h i t e paper
thin, c r i s p
against tips
of fingers
with the t h i n n e s t lines of gold
the burnt umber
to the brown
to the beige
to the white
to the black
i n h a l e
suddenly i'm alive
i know because i can feel
then the
e x h a l e
each cycle a moment
suspended in time
the wisps of smoke
and finally
the smell
a n c h o r.

not what you expected?
Savy  Sep 2018
Savy Sep 2018
It was a truth I had stated before
No one in this world is unique enough to not be replaceable

When no thought has been original for 50 years
History repeats itself on a daily basis
And life has the same rhythm every single day

How could you think, for even one second, that you’re special?

Friends come and go.
Loves burn out one after another
Trust wilts and faith slowly extinguishes

Your touch suddenly feels cold.
And her eyes suddenly look empty
When they used to be warm.

Your hands burn for her, and I?
I turn to ice next to you

The rock on my chest freezes
Grows heavier too
Icicles form that prevent the next person
to come even half as close as you
As you could have
As you would have
As you should have

I hope you keep my gift as a rememberance of me
Of what you used to have
And maybe even could have had.
That you’ll one day look upon it and think

That was special
I could have had it

But you won’t. You won’t even care
You will have replaced me with someone else
Someone better
Someone smarter and prettier and easier to see through

And you’ll never look back
Cause after all
Which one of us is not replaceable?
I'm a dummy
So use
my body
To send your message
All my words are yours
Since you've inserted yourself in my
Dumb and speechless
without you
I come to life in your presence
And alone
I'm stiff in a pine wood

In truth you live through me
And only through these felt lips can your truth come
Intently tinged by this cynic, sardonic, wise
This piercing needle through your wanton
I'd turn this wood to flesh
But what would you have left to
burn for warmth
To use
And use up.
Kara Jean  Sep 2017
Melted pink
Kara Jean Sep 2017
I'm melted pink
Perfect, when that's all you see
My wine is divine
It makes my heart climb
You notice me
I have nothing
I drained it long ago, so please talk to the ego
He rules me
Thinking is now his duty
I am the dummy held up by strings
There are no apologies when it comes to being a broken queen
Once more I say please,
don't bother me
I'm destroying
Sitting here in class I am today, minding my business as they would say. I’m listening to the teacher teach but hearing only things left beyond my reach. Another whole day in this **** school so I can come out each night 'more-of-a-fool,' and would it behoove them all to know, I ain’t no dummy, no 'coffee-Joe'?

  …but then I’d have to get the chance, the opportunity provided to advance and the equal treatment they all receive that somehow has been lost on me. Why do I even come here? Why does my Mom insist on this? They don’t call on me, care about me, acknowledge me, it’s ridiculous. At lunch each day I gotta use my fists and even my own kind acts wicked, cause for the rest of them fighting is all that exists.

  Exists; having objective reality or being.

  I exist alright; exist if you call this a life, defined by ******, **** and monkey, or related to some stupid-actin’ ****** or some dumb brawler or that dude good at running but never ever seen as intelligent and cunning. The girls ignore me, teachers too, white guys hate me, what did I do? What did I ever do to them? I’m just like you, I just want some friends, want the chance in life to succeed, man shut up about being freed that **** happened a hundred and fifty ******* years ago, I’m just as sick of hearing about it as you are 'Bro.'

  They say I have rights, they say that it’s fair, they say there’s a chance for me everywhere, but everywhere I look that’s not what I see, I’m put-down and degraded cons-tant-ly, told that I should join the team, or passed over in conversations about some thing. Forced to be friends with thugs that hate but to them at least I can relate, for just like me they was excluded or marginalized when told that they are deluded; they’ll never make it anyway, never achieve their dreams, never have their say so why even bother when no one cares how you feel, when your dreams in life won’t ever be real, when you end up in the streets and all you got left is to steal, when its still,

“Go back to Africa ******!”

...they say with zeal and the vitriol an violence comport surreal, Helen didn’t hold this secret to reveal nor does rap, truthfully, with these problems deal? Cocooned by stares and ****-sure glares, because your own sports brothers hate your *** and make you just wanna ditch that class, so here I ended up on the streets, hangin' round on my crew’s beats, acting tough, street-cred and clout and there your 'momma-an-sister' out n’ about, while here I am a fresh drop-out and can you guess what?

Here we come to take her purse, I clock your mom’s mouth and shove down your sister but ***** you boy I could’ve done much worse, she could’ve lost her life and come home in a hearse!

  Is this the ****** ya’ll wanted to see? All filled up inside with hatred, cause I was told that I would never make it, from day one got no attention, spent half of high school in afternoon detention, training me for my future as a prison convict yet another sign our society is depraved and sick. Given no chance or help or just some praise, no moments to shine and no Happy Days, he’s just a gang-banger, a **** they say? My actions may be worse than your words assail, and well, that may be me and I may be in jail but here’s something from my Grand Momma, a little encouragement goes a long way to change this drama...

You see me on the street you better ******* run cause you already know what’s in my jacket son and my hoodie will be up so you can’t see my face since I already know what you think of my race.
I guess these are rhyming stories really. I grew up poor in rough neighborhoods and majority-minority schools. This piece is a tribute to tribulations of poor African Americans which I know all too well having grown up in their neighborhoods.
Elué R G  Dec 2018
Elué R G Dec 2018
It tickles my tummy
Like summer kisses
And purring kittens
Can't you see I love you dummy?

Still, I know it might be too late
The year passed by
Maybe I should face my fate
I may never again see your eyes

So I'll dance to our song
Like it is the only sound I know
For I love you much more
Than the ocean to the space above
Have you ever had a fantasy boyfriend?
The kind that thinks that you’re
A couple
Despite the fact that
You don’t have their cell number
Nor their name,
You never had *** or traded spit
They don’t know where you live
They, in fact, know nothing about you

A little laughter shared
A momentary giggle waiting
for the bathroom door to open
And bam! Like Zeus.
Without your ever knowing, you are a team.
A team that never engages
but together none the less. Solid.
Ride or Die.
Then one day
You have an **** break up.
You never saw it coming
What did you do, you wonder?
He won’t speak to me!
He’s mad. Filled with resentment.
His eyes are on fire. I am hated.
He will show up the next time we see one another
with a woman
And that’s when you finally know for certain
You just had a Fantasy Boyfriend
How did you rupture?
It’s an eerie realization.
Like understanding in an instant
that neither are you the ventriloquist
nor the dummy
But somehow
go back into the box.

Better still, have you ever encountered the sub-species
Fantasy Bad Boyfriend?
Or Fantasy Abusive Bad Boyfriend?
They are perhaps the worst of the lot, naturally.
They don’t call.
They date other women.
They sit in their living rooms assured that you’re waiting at their front door.
In the rain.
With flowers.
Over and over the bell, ring though it might
It pleads on your behalf.
And yet they will not answer
And I was not standing there.
I was at the beach
watching the rain fall upon on the water.

You never called
so when they
And return unannounced
You’re just now finding out that
there are serious cracks in your relationship.
They used you
They played with your heart
They apologize for the treatment of which you are so very undeserving
They never wanted you.

Yet you never spoke.
Never popped over with
Nor cookies!
Never sat in your car waiting
You were out town the entire
You two did see a movie once.
That is true.

But now you’re over.
And he’s moved on.
And suggests with his absence?
that you do the same.
You can tell.

Some days your paths cross.
He stands still as Jesus
At the Hollywood Farmer’s Market.
With his wife and new baby
She looks at you with suspect eyes while you think about the tomatoes.
Someone wags their tail and hopefully they will quickly move along
en famille.
You hold your tomato plants and shudder.
You walk over to the double blossom peppermint tulips.
Tight little babies ready to unfurl.
The ones you never gave him.
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