I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

Live IN it:

The breeze brushing soft skin,
glowing in cavernous autumn.

Me solo:

astounded by the world.
astounded by my own hands.
standing on my own feet.
lead by the volition of discovery.
filling empty space
with MY understanding.

What is mine:

Calling dibs on myself.
Thinking about pleasing someone else
and being fraught with anxiety.
Continuously forgetting
things emerge slowly until:
EXCITEMENT of being at the end of things,
hold on tight.

Peeling from my chest:

DIGNITY reminds me
to be uncomfortable
with familiarity.
Beauty is knowing
I'll just miss out on singularity.

So I just LET go:

blow cross shallow water,
bask in uncertainty, and
startle people with my pace.

Vivid are all of my dreams,
Yes it's a place I go I believe,
I see visions, talk with spirits, feel,
When I am completely at rest.
Here, I am at a state where I am
Most alive when I am closer
To possible death, This warmth,
It fills me with a sense of truth,
The essence of my past, my youth.

I could have had riches and wealth,
I could have had everything, been a star,
I could have been a great musician,
I could have been famous, popular, gone "far."

But I would have given in to the age old
Way of the person who lacks confidence,
They need to be in the spotlight,
Hear the clapping near and far,
They need to over sacrifice,
They need to give up all their worth,
Sell out, become weaker, forget
Who they are.
*...and I am so much more than that.

He perches in the slime, inert,
Bedaubed with iridescent dirt.
The oil upon the puddles dries
To colours like a peacock’s eyes,
And half-submerged tomato-cans
Shine scaly, as leviathans
Oozily crawling through the mud.
The ground is here and there bestud
With lumps of only part-burned coal.
His duty is to glean the whole,
To pick them from the filth, each one,
To hoard them for the hidden sun
Which glows within each fiery core
And waits to be made free once more.
Their sharp and glistening edges cut
His stiffened fingers. Through the ****
Gleam red the wounds which will not shut.
Wet through and shivering he kneels
And digs the slippery coals; like eels
They slide about. His force all spent,
He counts his small accomplishment.
A half-a-dozen clinker-coals
Which still have fire in their souls.
Fire! And in his thought there burns
The topaz fire of votive urns.
He sees it fling from hill to hill,
And still consumed, is burning still.
Higher and higher leaps the flame,
The smoke an ever-shifting frame.
He sees a Spanish Castle old,
With silver steps and paths of gold.
From myrtle bowers comes the plash
Of fountains, and the emerald flash
Of parrots in the orange trees,
Whose blossoms pasture humming bees.
He knows he feeds the urns whose smoke
Bears visions, that his master-stroke
Is out of dirt and misery
To light the fire of poesy.
He sees the glory, yet he knows
That others cannot see his shows.
To them his smoke is sightless, black,
His votive vessels but a pack
Of old discarded shards, his fire
A peddler’s; still to him the pyre
Is incensed, an enduring goal!
He sighs and grubs another coal.

We, the single women of this town,
dress beautifully for ourselves, first.

Because it is a celebration to do so.

If you are a gentleman about it,
we appreciate your praise.

If what you feel, if what you have to say,
is steeped in the ignorance of the ages,
in the presumption that we are here
as your playthings, as your entertainment,
then please, pretty please, just keep it to yourself.

*And stay way the hell away from us.

You are
   a gift to these times
With the dignity
   of a survivor
And the sadness
   of those bearing a loss
Inside you the hope
   for a happy moment
While you carry
   the message forward
Always remembering
    to live as grace does
Not making enemies
   of those who fear you
For they know
   your wrath is justified
But not to your
   heart which wants to love
That is who you are
   if only they will let you

When you walked out the door
I fell to my knees entreating
Baby, please!
I begged for you to come back
And did everything I could to have you
But having you came with a price
My dignity

Nobody owns anybody
Nobody owns anything
Yet we are given
Precious moments
to be holders, not owners

So when it's time to let go
When things, people or moments
must flow
Surrender to the Being
For He knows what He's doing

Be free of greed,
just delight
For the beauty
that you held
even for a night.

How much more
for a lifetime
Can't you just see?
The honor of holding it
and the dignity to set it free.

I got inside my own head today,
A rather unsettling experience I must say.
Because, typically I thrive on touring through other people's minds'.
They invite me in with a grin,
I dive right in.
As I swim through their thoughts,
They attempt to drown their worst sin.
I can't help how truly intrigued I am by the human mind,
So what if you lied?
However enduring these adventures have been,
I ventured for far too long.
'Bout time I took a good hard look at myself,
Time to write my own book...
page 1.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror today,
Far longer than I ever have before.
Saw some real deep, dark, ****, right down to my core.
My eyes are not just simply blue,
They changed several shades as they told me to get a clue.
I stared at my face til it was no longer clear,
Even shed a rare tear.
How miraculous to discover that despite my faults, and my fears,
I'm still beautiful.
Too many years I spent being a judgmental ***** to myself.
I'm taking my dignity back.
Next time I look that deep at myself in the mirror,
Won't be for "many a year,"
Because after I set the ******* aside,
My eyes can see right through me!