Armed with a truthbrush
And a few mythbusters
From zanzibar,
I scoured my soul
Like I'd never done before

Defying delusions
Of grandeur
Guarding doors shackled
And sealed
With cultural stereotape

I broke through the locks
And the shock
Of four centuries
Consumed me

The stench of humanity
Gone wild
Was palpable
Like cotton and gold

But the world was neither
Pitiless nor blind
To the plight
Of the slave's child

And the chiren
Of her *****
Would unite in the fight
To repair wounds
20 generations deep

Making the scars
Of imperious nations
Easier to bear

~ P
(#TheScarsofImperiousNations)
4/21/2014

I sell loosies
On the strip
Flipping Jacksons
Into Grants and Benjamins,
Tax-free

At 6 five
And a few stones
Shy of a brick house,
My packs are stashed
Like mousetraps
On the block
Primed with nicotine

Beyond the naked eye
Pieces of me
Bleed broken
Between pores of kohn
Like colored inmates shackled in cells
To misdemeanors

Like selling loosies...

And I need mdi's
To breathe
When the air gets thin
Or when a chiseled arm is locked
Below my chin

For selling loosies...

And I'm kissing cement,
Gasping, "I--can't--breathe!"
On bay street
Bullied by black boots,
Blue eyes
And deaf ears

For selling loosies...

But don't tell that
To my future assassins...

Their sacred blue is immune
To my tainted black.

~ P
#ISellLoosies
(12/13/14)

he found a bundle
of rights intangible
hanging like leaves
in plain sight
without a label or name

so he claimed...

it was perched like a parrot
on a poplar tree
in Central Park
left furtively
after dark
by ranger Henry III
who opened the gates daily

for the likes of...

Joe
of Public renown
who'd lost all he owned
in a Ponzi scheme
trading his golden throne
and sins
for the broken bench

and a bottle of gin...

under the shade of leaves
green like the open court
he prayed
and plotted his return

it wasn't long...

after his fall
from Chase
to the broken bench
that 1000 points of light
descended
shattering the fog over his lens

and with lasik eyes....

he saw the bundle
of rights intangible
hanging like leaves
in plain sight
with a label and name

and he claimed it as his own....

~ P
(#HenrysBundleOfRights)

If your his-story
Were laundered
On the public square,
Extracting dirt and lie

Then hung out to dry
For all to see

Would you claim it?

Or would you deny
Those black-eyed holes
Glaring
From your wife-beaters...

Shards of glass
Sparkling
From your backyard....

Skulls and bones
Cackling
From your closet...

Projecting only
Those glossy golden eggs
Like cliff the eta carinae
From st luke's
In the village

'til those cluckin' hens came home...

~ P
(#ThoseCluckinHens)
12/25/2014

On the rooftop,
60 flights removed
From my ni##uh woes
Searching the streets below...

I am free to exhale
And savor the salt,
Freeze and possibilities
Of the evening breeze

Or jump...

Without prejudice
Or trepidation,
I breathe...

And dream a scene surreal
On the canvas of my immigrant mind
Where hope is an eagle
That ever flies

She soars o'er profiles of pain
Unfazed by chains of color
And crass

She is my die cast
On destiny's carousel
And I shall ever be
A dreamer...

A life worth saving...

On the rooftop
60 flights removed
From my ni##uh woes
Frisking the streets below....

~ P
(#NigguhWoes)
12/26/2014

He fell through the crack,
That black hole in the ghetto

Can't you see?

Back before 1st grade;
He ain't like you or me

His eyes are cold;
His soul is empty;
His mode is survival

And everyone's a prey
When doors close everyday,
His checkered past
Unworthy of a pass

Shackled he stays
To minimum wage,
Petty crime and misdemeanors;
Doing hard time
Beyond bars

"This country ain't for me..."
He seethes
"I'm only good for wars,
Not the cultural caviar..."

He fell through the crack,
That black hole in the ghetto

Can't you see?

Back before 1st grade;
He ain't like you or me...

~P
(#ThisCountryAintForMe)
12/26/2014

Let me sail way
To the beach bars
Let me drink ***
It shall be my painkiller
Forget what's left behind
Out of my element
Let me roll
Roll with the crowd
Let me just be one
Amongst the crowd
Drinking my painkiller
Let me experience time
It will be a moment
Of my lifetime
Just another day
As life passes me up

Who will be there when the civil war starts?

When your mind can't see past itself and your heart wants to stop
Will anyone notice that your smile falters when you hear your own whispers.
That your eyes tear from the squeezing of your heart.

When you stomach refuses to hold food down
And your kidneys start giving up
Who will be there when your mind is too heavy for your body to lift up?

Will there be anyone to lift you up off the floor?
Will there be anyone to wrap the red paintings on your wrists?
Who will even be aware of any of it

Will you, yourself even be aware?
Civil wars always end up with casualties on both sides.
And most of the time
Nothing is left worth fighting for

Phonecalls
Late nights
Your voice
Taxi drives.
Cocktails
Beers
Apartment heaters
Christmas cheer.

I'm
F
A
   L
     L
       I
        N
          G
too fast
too hard
for you.

I CAN'T