i listen to bird
warm pleasant air
Under the cold water
he slips his soiled hands
a shy bar of soap
assists but does not remove
the grime under his fingernails
why must life be so *****?
a malfunctioning bulb illuminates
on his reflection he reflects
mouth? uncommonly voluptuous
nose? too large
but that is only a face
and we all have one of those
sweat, little rivu…lets
scamper down his fruzzled face
time for a shave soon
much misery behind those dark orbs
a faint scent of slow wood clings to his neck
was it a thousand years ago or
yesterday that she flung his jeans
and the mechanic’s shirt
with his name stitched over the left pocket
(spelled wrong, by the way)
in slow motion out the third story window
and as he walked away smiling
a toothbrush clanked against his head
From: Eddy Torigoe Pellot. “Listen.” iBooks. https://books.apple.com/us/book/listen/id1508826719
I was still covered in placenta when they locked me in this golden cage
fast at work,
they didn't care how calloused their hands got
rough ropes fed through the pulleys,
and sewed into the heavy haze of distraction.
I promise you,
if they could leave this pedestal and share the warmth that is burning and bubbling for them, they would do it;
but the fall would **** them first.
there are two ways to rob someone of their humanity-
to idolise them
and to ignore them;
so perhaps we all share the same emptiness that way.
Tell me not to speak
But I never seem to listen,
I make the same mistakes and the same mistakes, I guess hoping I am forgiven.
I should have been quiet,
I should have obeyed what I always remember,
That I should keep it to myself and pretend everything’s hidden.
Imagine myself losing my mind,
I think half the feelings are real,
But not to breaking point:
(Even if I want to) I’m not screaming at the walls,
I’m not crying all day,
I’m not trying to get through to them whilst acting insane.
Multiple times I’ve told myself,
To pretend I never think of this,
Maybe they’ll forget, think you’ve slipped out of it.
I was never someone who didn’t express,
But now it’s always failing;
Few things I need and am not getting.
There was a way
To condense my words.
To comfort me
You judge before you listen..
advise before you understand..
the rush to share
your challenges & success stories
because you’ve been through worse..
and now, you know it all.
So very admirable, no doubt!!
But wait.. you were here to comfort me,
not blow your own trumpet!
I want my silence to be heard loud and clear.
Today I wake up frightened
limited to only a pigment
Blue and red lights cause
more trepidation than
equanimity, palms sweaty
brows furrowed terror
sneaks up behind me.
ready to beat me
blindly. Stop my car
because I don't have a
tail light intimidation
evokes more concern
cornered by three blue
lifes in comparison to my
one. One hand on their clip
the other by their side
To them there is only die
this may be goodbye
- A Black Girl Untold
“ RTI found black female drivers got pulled over in Raleigh's Southwest District at a higher rate than other population groups.'' - Abc 11
Title: all credits to the lovely Jess Rizkallah
Pray the foghorn comes no closer;
bringing thunder over rolling waves.
A stampede across an open prarie
bellowing with ancient lungs.
Are there secrets with the crickets?
Whispering in harmony
to the rustling leaves?
There is no hospitality
Conversation lives between everything that breathes.