Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aubrey Aug 2014
You said, "How do you react when **** hits the fan? When you're under stress?
Do you go to work,
or hit the dirt?"
The truth is
I am transformed by the glory of battle
into shining metal
into this beast of action
that's not bad... it just is.
I remember my Dad telling me to "Be prepared.
Be aware.
Stay calm.
Don't be scared."
                           (He also taught me  how to take a hit
                            and return the favor.)
You said to me,
"Maybe,
you are not afraid.
Maybe,
you are excited.
Maybe,
when you feel that feeling you call fear
your spirit is responding
with acceptance....
Maybe, you were made for it."

It may not be fear today...
or excitement...

Today I am the villain.
I am taking them away from him.
I am breaking at least two hearts...
and pouring salt inside of mine
                                                        for endurance
                                                                     for preservation...

I am the hard stone for flint to strike.
I am the rushing floods and the strong ****.
I am the hot concrete and the melting tar.
I am the engine and the speeding car.
I am  adrenaline in the soldiers veins.
(Long since wasted and drained
from too many fights.)
I am the candle's burning, flickering light.
I am present, and aware.
But I am not scared.
I am ready.
Chano Williams Apr 2014
Spanish man! Spanish man!
Welcome to America!
I have you a place
­for your clothes and shoes
You start work tomorrow,
washing many ­dishes
If you wash enough
your dreams may come true!

Spanish man­! Spanish man!
Welcome to America!
How has life been
since last w­e spoke?
Are you working two jobs
and paying those dues?
Well, pl­ease, put this package
underneath your coat
 
Spanish man! Spanis­h man!
Welcome to America!
Here is some money
for what I asked yo­u to keep
Go shod your feet nicely,
eat well ‘til you’re full
Pay­ up your rent
and I’ll see you next week!

Spanish man! Spanish m­an!
Welcome to America!
Please open your door
for I need your hel­p!
I’m covered in blood
Can you spare me clothes?
Next time I see­ you
I’ll give you much wealth!

Spanish man! Spanish man!
Welcom­e to America!
You have a new job,
it’s in another town
These guys­ owe me money,
but won’t pay me a dime
I need you to meet them
an­d gun them down!

Spanish widow. Spanish widow.
Welcome to Americ­a.
I’m sorry for your husband
He was a good man
I see you have tw­o sons
Fine, strapping, young lads
If they ever need work
then see me when you can
Steven Fortune Apr 2014
No way for her to ascertain
the ashen carpets of erasure
randomly assigned to the tapestry of garish
hope's circumstantial hopscotch squares
with a body already incommodiously perched
upon legs submissive to the here and now's
drunken mercury
Alone she has been left to sweep up
the gravity that hobbles optimism
in the hops of faith around the ambivalence
of horizontal authenticity
Left alone to weep on twitching roots
and theorize a rally bloom in spite
of severance in tune with sparks of closure
The shadow of her sunken chin emits
embroiled tributaries of respawning yesterdays
Queen of checkerboard embodiment
her rhythmic rule entails zephyrs of endurance
in the vacuum of fulfilling prophecies
04 28 14
Renae Apr 2014
Love I know not
though I've heard
it's unfathomable
unselfish, thoughtful and wise
So strong it never gives up
No matter the trials

Love would rather die  
than ever let go
It holds on even when life
seems impossible
Ady Apr 2014
Life is my current lover.
I swig her ephemeral taste from my cupped hands
worried as the golden, shimmering liquid rushes through
creases and cracks in my jaded hands.
Her mood varies through my stages;
at times she is of doting temper and roseate kisses
but when love evades her, most often than not,
her calloused hands damage the pearly flesh in tender
places,
and discontent paints a surly mood as she digs her crimson
brush against the canvas of my self.
Life is my inconsistent lover,
sometimes doting but most often than not abusive.
So I vowed my eternal devotion to Death.
We escape under the dark canopy of starless wings;
a tryst.
I eat of the forbidden feasts in the Kingdom of Hades,
grains of scarlet pomegranates staining my chapped lips.
Death has promised me perpetuity.
But until Life decides to release me from her capricious temper,
I shall long for the wintry, rainy comfort of my drowsy affair.
Raphael Uzor Apr 2014
Jesus never complained**
Should we?
5w

Complaining has never solved a problem, it only compounds!
Next page