"annexes" poems
(2/7/13)
She was my black female warrior and she stood proud and tall
And upon her shoulders her silk hair did fall
A spear in one hand and an axe in the other
No one would mess with her, not even her brother.
The strength of a lion searching for prey
She would not let anything stand in her way.
She knew where she lived – it was a jungle out there
But she was strong in spirit and did not care.
She is the black warrior and as strong as can be
You will find her in the annexes of history.
Just like the movie of “BETTY AND CORETTA”
Who showed what they can do- when they stood
Up against the politicians of the RED, WHITE and BLUE.
We are still being monitored by the land, air and sea
But we’ll continue the fight so that we could be free.
These two women are the black warriors who walk
Hand in hand with all oppressed people who are willing to take a stand.
I am Hispanic and we’ve been denied many rights
Just like any other nationality we’re all willing to fight.
It does not matter our color, religion or
****** preference that we may have
“ONE NATION UNDER GOD WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL”
That is FREEDOMS CALL.
© L . RAMS
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
Lost song so long
In between walls and over top mountains
Happy when you're free
Happy but not me
Courage that tempts you to reach out and take her
hand by the tips of fingers which
could play the piano and curve about saxophones
if only you let
them
touch
Pretty words from the annexes of the libraries
stand up at attention in the main hallways of mind
when you see her face and you wander
through the rooms where you paint her naked on the
floor
holding the pages of the dreams you wrote for her
Speak a sentence and you feel your lips move
make the words of the sound but
there's no touching the ground
And images unbidden of the stories you tell yourself don't flicker but flare
the licks of the campfire redder than rose on her skin
the piano in the main room of your seaside apartment
the echoes of the music that hold my soul like the hands of a lover
better than any lover could
The grey sky is noticed and rain falls above us
stalled still in the headlights of cars like they don't know
And time doesn't know us
But oh, the places it shows us
And in and out of time in the backrooms of my mind
Never shall I live the thousand dreams I dream
But if I could have just one..
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 4:56 AM UTC
you are the most beautiful person i've ever accepted into my life
my heart tingles sending electrifying waves straight through my veins
drawing ever sense of mine to
your soul
the power of connection that brings two spiritual beings to collide into one is indefinite
your aura annexes the neurons traveling throughout my body
this path appeared without my knowledge of intertwining fate
in where I'd never encounter a most perfect individual
one full of the universe multiplied by years of worth
till the end of time and back, for there is no death of a soul
if I could just freeze this ripple in time where our bodies encounter
with a warm intoxicating embrace
so exhilarating,
in this life that exists today,
I'm delighted to have accompanied your presence
an aesthetically pleasing inner being
one that encourages me to have a better perception of existing
to live life vicariously with a passion
a mentor
beloved friend
one who reads my soul like an open book
you are my soul and I am your mate.
influential in every way
the words that you say
leave me crazy
but in a good way
I swear
i've been putting my actions into words
I cannot compare to observe
so if you, you know
my soulmate
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
I said to you
Stop the pitter-patter of my chest
**** those butterflies that flitter-flutter
Pluck the wings
Vibrantly colored annexes fall
just like our love
The pulses of you are gone
Only thumps and pumps
In this chest
Of mine.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC
shaft of light through
tassels, clinking cutlery,
vacuous space
varnished petrification
of wood,
monotonous whir of the fan
and the cessation of the clock
(i give it taps to test
its life but time has
given up on me)
the surreptitious chirp of
bird and the flirtatious advancement of a shadow.
Hugo's crucified howl
in his kennel -
the bristle of broom from
the outside, sun raking through
a mound of dead leaves
scattered across this humdrum thread of the world.
ceramic persona
being formed into something
ephemeral: say a household,
or little stone-men,
a sturdy house of epistles
or just a nook for a free dove.
first to go is the sound
of the afternoon and the next
is i, wearing 2 day old jeans,
starting the car, revs it like
a beast in stupendous heat,
raves the avenue and brings
with its deceitful snarl, the weight of all trivialities, enclosed somewhere in the dark annexes of the compact subspace,
wishing for a crash,
a collision,
a time for smallness,
or of being
nothing but
air, or the clock that died on me, or just
10 AM, nothing else.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 10:08 PM UTC