"blacked" poems
* * * * *
* * *
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Faces of friends, of people i met earlier
are glittering stars on this late evening's
dark blue sky...their smiles are tattooed
in my mind...they're hunched, going
lower by the days...slowed down by years.
it must be hard and painful...the arching,
the drooping of the neck, the curving spine,
they endure all, 'til each day's end...they rise
each new dawn...do what they still can do,
lest they stagnate in their aging ponds,
diminish to a state, where food, pills, or
forgotten information are forced on them,
......like drugs, injected into the veins
........................
these wee hours bring back the years...
they have been good...never mind the
hard times...there were, there are good ones
life is a long, wide stream of changing hues,
flowing on and on....my water bears the
colors each new day brings...gray, at times
with sadness and gloom....other days,
blacked by despair...some summers, red,
roseate with glee, or green with life and
hope...blue, when trust is spilling, and
the tranquil sea and sky overwhelm,
with a promise of stability..........white,
when accepting......the unacceptable...
........................
the amber grains and i, are alike
ripened enough to be plucked
be pulled out from an existence...the
signs are known...shown...yet, i wait
for when it is due to happen...and while
waiting, the stalks sway, play and dance
and enjoy the sun and wind...and i,
while i still can...walk, jump, climb hills
and valleys in this mammoth space
of land and water.............called life
...................
the sounds of my days, i still hear,
i am a lute, a harp, a cello...playing
off-key.....out of tune at times,
my strings are my graying hair,
i still can't stop dying the gray
i still want to highlight the dark,
but, one day, all these will cease...
............
one night, my face will be in one of those
many stars...glittering on a dark blue sky
sending a smile, to my loved ones.
...................
(there is no other way,
but forward
all are headed
towards an end.)
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
June 26, 2018
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
I rolled out of bed
to start my day,
but the power was off
my all electric home,
as still as a grave.
No coffee, or toast.
The refrigerator not cold,
the freezer started dripping
the contents soon to spoil.
No computer, no cell phone service!
I began sweating profusely,
no air conditioning to cool me.
Not even a TV Emergency Broadcast Alert,
to release this uneasy feeling of topsy-turvy .
I drove into town seeking a pay phone,
with not a single one to be found,
gone the way of the dinosaurs,
extinct now too I assumed.
My old truck had no computer chips,
most cars did and were dead in their tracks.
I needed gas but the gas station pumps
electric computer driven, all DOA to boot.
The Nations electric grid had crashed,
blacked out, stone cold dead everywhere.
All heavenly satellites blacked out, expired.
Everything computer related (and
that is about everything), had ceased
to function as had the electronic reliant
world we had created.
The street throngs of dazed people walked
around like zombies, clutching blacked out
dead computer devices, knowing not what to do.
Not even talking, forgotten I guess how to do that too.
As dependently defectively programmed as the useless
devices in their hands.
In a panic I did awake finding that
this scary dream world was indeed all fake,
a nightmare of fearful unconscious thinking.
My electric clock was still churning,
It's music alarm blaring,
birds outside still singing,
my cell phone started ringing,
it was merely another Robot call,
Welcoming me back to the 21 century.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 10:51 PM UTC
i was born with a scent
of wild flowers in the air,
the smell of wood-fires,
and the cooking ***
I was born to be proud
of the blacked badge
of my skin.
my first tears flowed
from the sting of smoke
from the pain of the thorns
in my naked small feet.
How i hated , at first
the long hours, herding cattles
Shift_But i loved the hills
And the river-when it gave me fish!
i learned to listen
To the song of birds
To watch the colours
of down and sunset
I learn to love
The land that gave me
my own black badge
The badge of Africa
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
I am Christian. I believe in the
Trinity of the Holy God, The Son, and The Spirit,
I believe that Jesus is the Son of God and the savior of mankind
I own more than three Bibles
I teach Sunday School every week and
I pray every night.
I am Christian,
And as such I
Hate queer....
Phobia. I can not stand intolerance
And I cry at hatred,
Blood running in the streets,
Fear running in veins,
Running away from the truth.
I am Christian, yet
There are bloodstains in my Bible
And the prayers on my lips
Are for forgiveness for who I am.
The entire story of ***** is
Crossed out, blacked out angrily
In the dead of night
In all 4 versions,
Leviticus is blurred,
Wrinkled with my tears,
Soaked with my pain.
I am Christian
And I am not homophobic.
I know my church won't recognize
Non cis-het marriages,
Leaving entire worlds of rainbows in the dark
The higher-ups insist
Weddings are white, shiny, husband-and-wife, happily-ever-after affairs
That shove me and my friends, my family, my lovers,
Into closets of heavenly wrath and
Fire and brimstone sermons,
Locked into personal hells of shame
And confusion.
I am Christian
And I am not straight.
My God doesn't hate me for who I love,
He loves me because I try not to hate.
So to the homophobic Christians, I ask:
Who is your God?
Who is your God that supposedly condemns people He has created in his own image?
Your rainbow picket signs are nothing but a cruel mockery of a covenant
Not truly shared by you.
Your tongues are no better than the viper's who called Adam and Eve to sin,
You are the vipers of my world.
Do you think you avoid judgement
When trans teens are killed
By the bullets you spit with your words?
Who is your God,
That tells you to picket the funerals
Of those you hate?
Who is your God,
That refuses to let you open your heart to differentness?
I am Christian,
And I don't need your permission to
Love my God.
Take my scars and tear-stained Bibles,
Listen to my fervent prayers,
Watch my lips tremble when
I listen to my pastor.
I don't need your permission
To love who I want,
In fact I don't want it.
Take my midnight screaming and fear of coming out,
Listen to my frantic pleading for a hand to hold,
Watch my eyes linger on her chest.
I am Christian.
My God doesn't hate me for who I love,
He hates you who refuse to love
While you carry His name, if
Not his blessing.
So I ask again
Who is your God?
Because mine loves all of me,
All 5'6" of queer pride.
Who is your God?
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
A haze of smoke
Blurs the picture
Lipstick stains the
Cigarette that flickers
Red painted nails
Tap the frozen rails
Champagne bottle,
Dating back to Versailles
Blacked out eyes, matching skin
Bruise alike
**** it with a shot of gin
Little white flowers
Shot with a polaroid
Symbolize my paranoia
Pastel colors litter my eyes
Watching the rain fall
As time flies by
Twinkling Lights of the city skyline
Closed eyes, sip of wine
Hot coffee, big sweaters
Take a sip, enjoy the weather
Old book
Faded maps
And worn out ball caps
Gold jewelry flashed about
Parties thrown in nthe underground
Now I begin, haven't you heard?
Aesthetic is in, what a beautiful word.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
He smiled at me and said 'here, take this'
It was a happy little pill of his and it would feel bliss
I smiled and gave him a kiss saying, 'thank you baby'
But what happened next forever will drive me crazy
Next thing you know I was spinning in my head
Then he wanted to bring me to a bed
His friends walked in and wanted more
So they all called me a ***** little *****
My body was numb and I couldn’t move
I let out a scream but they didn’t approve
Everything went black but then again I woke
But to them it was nothing but a funny little joke
They locked me inside of a walk in closet
So if there was a stir I sure wouldn’t cause it
I blacked out again and woke in a different place
Treating me as if my soul were missing and my body were a case
Still I was unable to move nor speak
But he still said he loved me and kissed me on the cheek
I counted five inhumane beings on top of me moaning
One was even playfully groaning
I was disgusted and wanted it to end
But I knew that after this my mind would never mend
By now it would have been a little past three in the morning
Earlier I should have taken that adorable face as a warning
When they realized I was sobering up
They had an alibi saying they’d call this a hookup
When I could finally move my mouth again
I realized what had happened and felt heavy chest pain
They heard that I was muttering words that were incomprehensible
They saw me as nothing more than a body and that I was dispensable
They came up with a plan to hide my body in a ditch
I even heard one say, 'she deserved it, what a stupid bitch'
I hit my head when they threw me on the ground
I only saw black in front of me and around
I woke up to a woman asking if I were okay
I only said one phrase and it was that 'I was betrayed'
What happened after that is irrelevant at best
All I will say is that I was nothing but stressed
This is my story and it happened two years ago today
Nailing an image in my mind that I was a targeted prey
I know now that I hold so much more worth
And I love myself more than anything on this Earth
Just know that these words have come straight from my heart
No matter how vile and disgusting this memory is, I can never restart
So I tried to make it a poem so it seems like some kind of art.
h.m.w
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 5:57 PM UTC
Long lost time stretches blacked out questions and
white
in the place where it should have been
A triple threat of time, continuation, and displaced memories
Backtrack
Slapped back into the
black again
I know it's a sin but I ******* love it
Push it, shove it down, choke on the smoke and the fumes of the ancient
Wisdom is the loss of purity
Awakened
Ravaged
Blended back into the swirling twirling Universes, such perverse pleasure in the pain of it all
I love to fall
The wind in your face, blend it with a trace of sweat and blood as it all
clicks
into
place.
I love the taste
Blasphemous and decadent, giving in and giving out to **** it all back in again
RISE and FALL
I grin a bladed smile all the while, never minding the cries
Such pleasure as it dies
All taint of purity reviled
Desecrate the sacred, mutilate this inviolate aspect of creation
Only a seed of destruction contained within the potential
I see and I lust and I take and I ****
Not a drop of precious life spilled
Without cause
The laws remain, rise and fall, rise and fall,
I saw it all and then I sought a call of FLAW
For in the impurity lies perfection
An insecure dissection speaks the truth
As I now lie and speak to thee uncouth
I regret the best was yet to be
Blinded stumbling through Infinity
....just let it be.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
beyond Montana’s yellow lines
there is a field
~a field of painted soles
and laces rubber tread
~a field of ****** curls
and fallen headlights
where kaleidoscope lenses
look onto twisted frames like origami halos
where teddy bears hug stop signs like pickets
fringed in anger
runaway childhoods sleep cautionary tales
beyond Montana’s blushing acne
there are red cup melodies
blasting from blacked out tints
weaving blues notes through Rock & Rap
distant cries are drowned by Bass
or maybe Bud (light)
a haze of teenage eyes
they might as well be ghost riders
whip game copped from GTA
these pubescents are a Vice to their City
blooming sidewalk sloths
like flowerbeds
beyond Montana
is a country of bar stools
where bar tenders play therapists
and therapists play coroners
precedents are shots of whiskey - taken to the head
and reflected in flooded eyes
beyond Montana
is a country of MADD mothers and SADD students
beyond Montana
is a country of unexpecting pedestrians
beyond Montana
is a field
~a field of wing-clipped snow angels
That field is Mariah's home now
and she challenges you to change
yourself
your friends
your country
she challenges you to
STOP DRUNK DRIVING
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
A barraster at law no less
I wouldnt trust I must confess
Looking down your pointed nose
seductively holding pose
Your linkedIn profile
who could see
just how you get your
filthy fee
Perverted farming
Filthy creeps
In Hi ace vans
and blacked out jeeps
Gratefully they pay their fee
In return for an STD
Heres the justice overflow
For Nank and **** and ******
I'm returning him to you
When I scrape him from my shoe
For you my dear a final fact
His STD is still intact!
Enjoy!
May 13, 2011
May 13, 2011 at 3:43 AM UTC
Table for one sir, a book my companion for a one-sided conversation
Restaurant conversations buzz around me with intimacies and angst
Pre-movie girlfriends split the bill for a bowl of gelato delightful chat
Spooning in the Italian atmosphere for the price of a McDonalds.
The repro man on my right boasts of dietary prowess to his fat date
On the rack for his gluttony assuaged by the second rack of lamb
Talking at each other I can feel the anguish of ugly gay loneliness
Italian waiters providing comfort in the form of tiramisu temptations.
Life the entertainment on Saturday night alone with ten pages read
A drink talking boy will sleep alone without his now cold girlfriend
Broadcasting life's loves and lies, everyone hears and nobody listens
The opera of living more tragic than Tosca and as brutal as Butterfly.
Rain soaked spirits sink on a trudge home to a lonely king-sized bed
Goodnight loved one Skyped intimacies a warming blanket of comfort
Sleep sweet dreams before the limousine blacked streets of tomorrow
Nearer to honey sweet kisses and close in my love’s warm bed “hello”.
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:26 AM UTC
Ebola has my name on it, the Doctor
Who came back with Ebola
In New York, yes you heard me right
His name is Mr. Spencer, I’m a
Spencer, he rode the subway in the dark
And he went bowling a week after
He came back, and he only went
To the hospital very sick
This is dementia of the public system
And the main stream media
Is being blacked out by the Czar
Appointed by Obama, he’s a lawyer by trade
Are you surprised that Ebola
Can hitch a ride with a Doctor without borders?
There are no borders for a pandemic
It increases exponentially
And peaks sometime in 2017
I’m sorry to be the first to break
The News, but Ebola is running wild
Somewhere in New York, somewhere near you
There could be a city that has it already
And do you think the media would let you know?
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
Welcome all friends who are allowed in.
You came to see a show but little did you know
that the girl you're about to witness
has no **** and only fitness.
Strong thighs, abs that lead to a v,
Long hair to cover where there's not much to see.
( o )( o )
When she walked, she walked tall.
When she danced, she took off her bra.
She could drop it low,
pick it up slow,
shake her *** better than your average skanky ***
( o )( o )
Fantasies of 80s rock music came alive
and it's hardly more than I can take.
I blacked out during my entire performance
on amateur night..
to Whitesnake.
( o )( o )
As I do recall,
first is the worst,
second is the best.
For that's what I got
with such a little chest.
I left with my pride
and 600 dollars in my boot.
Bucket list off for dancing on a pole
in my birthday suit.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
I know about lying on broken bones, beading into my back.
She was missing something.
She was lying on hands searching through the trench coat of a bathroom romance, watching butterflies melt,
She was becoming herself
At four thirty am I write her account, embroidered in a diary of lullabies,
“this is what death must feel like, being left alone in a street screaming of footsteps and blacked out whispering.”
She threw deliverance, caked over old vengeance, out of the car window with daybreak’s kisses. She writes,
“I sit in the heavy sleet of the delta drowning in resurrection, grime from age wipes over me once,
twice,
The broken blood pools out of ‘I love you’s’ and islets.”
She slept with the darkness.
“Prayers don’t come for me anymore.”
She glitters, shivers, tactless as a teacup in an earthquake,
She is awake.
”I am awake.”
She documents God- "I feel God,"
- in herself. "In myself.”
There is a silence.
A burning, left, cold to dry alone,
This is for her.
Call it, my face, swathed in the impenetrable darkness when it is no longer my own, call it an aunt’s love when a mother’s doesn’t suffice any longer. Call it,
cigarette buds and elevator rides to death’s door. Call it power bubbling up from the violation.
This is for you; call it Cuban cigars, show tunes, and Marylyn Monroe;
call it misery. Missing, call it hues and paint, my life prostrated on a disgruntled canvas. Call it fate.
This is for you.
Call it liquor stains and tarot cards in a fit of ecstasy. Epilepsy, call it the most intricate balancing act of existence.
An unseen performance, a lyric with no voice,
“a cry in the night”
”a scream of supplication”
The hunters’ march to death, the Holy Grail’s melting between your fingers, civilization pouring through veins,
“death, destruction, life, happiness, Azrael, Abbadon, blood, Rome!”
“I don’t want to feel this!”
Call it whispers of unspoken meetings and witches in the night, threatening,
“I know you!”
“No you don’t! Leave me alone.” Recognition. “I don’t want to listen…”
She writes,
“I loved you…
On purpose and…you left me,
with,
myself.”
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
A duck can drink and walk
but can he catch a fish and fly
we're about to find out
after getting drunk that night
he stumbled inside
a police station full of cops
the duck started slurring his words
blacked out with his **** in the air
he was so drunk the fish was in the other end
the police are puzzled what to do
so they stuck him in a zoo
until the duck starts acting like a duck
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 3:29 AM UTC
It’s been a while…
It truly has been a while since I’ve written here, but yesterday I was triggered, inspired if you will; inspired to write this and let it be real.
When I was a child, 2nd grade to be exact, I befriended a girl on the school bus and long story short she spent my entire 2nd grade year manipulating me into all kinds of ****** acts not only with her but with other classmates. I was told by this girl, my classmate, another child, a second grader that everything we were doing was okay, it was all okay. Why?? Because her and her sisters did this kind of thing all the time.
To me as a child it made sense I guess, but she also threatened that if I ever told anyone as in ANYONE she would tell them it was all my fault all my idea. All of the staying in classrooms when no one was there, hiding and being told to do things that were beyond a child’s or even some adult’s comprehension, the hiding anywhere and everywhere and the fear of being caught it all was in my hands, and if i told I was to blame.
This went on for an entire year, or so who knows I blacked it out, but I vividly remember using a journal I got as gift to document it all detailed and when I got scared my mom would find it… I ripped the pages to shreds. And I killed the memory. I went my entire life until 19 years old that I realized it was never a dream.
It was real.
The point of this all is during a deep discussion With my best friend, I expressed to her the moment after all these years that remembered the girls name.
I told her one day my mom found a different journal I wrote in as a child, she found it a couple years ago and I was intrigued so I flipped to a random page… and on that page it was a prompt that asked my favorite and least favorite things about school.
My least favorite thing about school is: J****h .
There it was!!! Her name .
I told my best friend her name and seeing as though after I left the school district she stayed, we recalled the girl and how I can’t see her face in my mind but she knew she had a twin sister and they left the district after 2nd or 3rd grade and they came back in middle school. However by middle school I had transferred schools.
Long story short it shock my entire being that I missed this encountering this girl again . And I will never know her face or why she chose me but all I know is she was just the beginning of my trauma.
Nov 5, 2022
Nov 5, 2022 at 2:41 PM UTC
Its another sleepless night, and i'm trying to figure out what i'm doing with my life, again. I'm often short of breath, lost in my thoughts. In a sea of darkness. I'm running through this maze of pain, I've been told that I would never get out by myself. My stubbornness has taken me further in this maze than I have ever gone, I’ve usually blacked out by now, screamed by now, cried by now. Ive been lost for too long and I will not give up today. Its getting hard to breathe even when i'm outside, Its getting hard to see, even if the sun might be shinning, theres always a cloud right above me. I'm tired and by myself. I feel like these walls have started to cave in on me, these last couple months the cloud above me has been pouring, and this maze is filling up with water, its getting hard to breathe again, and ive forgotten how to swim. Every turn gets darker and looking back holds nothing for me. I wish someone was trying to find me, I keep hearing screams, but none hold my name. I use to be woken up every morning by the sun, but this cloud doesn't leave. I keep running through this maze and still have not found an exit. I keep running through these paths filled with pictures of familiar faces, dont be angry when I scream that I'm trying to leave them before they leave me. I stumble into a room of mirrors, the only good thing about this cloud is that it makes it hard to see my reflections, but I need to face me, see me. Try and understand that i'm not crazy when I say how much I hate me! Maybe its a lack in faith, but in all honesty its a lack in me. I keep running into my grandfather’s empty house in this disgusting maze. Its been left abandon and collapsing. That once beautiful house, has been broken into, robbed of all its joy. How could this amazing place that was filled with great memories for me be here. But the door was broken down from the inside, the glass from the windows lay outside his house. That house is now behind him, it no longer holds anything for him, I’m sorry if one day you pass by and see my house collapsing, but it’s because I finally found the exit to this maze.
4/25/15
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
I don't love my body.
I don't love the curls on my head,
the way they become frizzy at the drop of a hat.
The way they get in the way when I do my dishes.
The way that they have a mind of their own in the morning.
You call me 'curly sue'.
You pull on my brown ringlets and smile when they bounce back into place.
You like the way my curls smell when I get out of the shower.
I don't love my body.
My *******
The way the hang from my chest like sandbags.
The way they restrict me from buying the clothes I like.
You named them.
Alessa and Alexis.
The way a little girl names the dolls that she loves so much.
Desire flashes in your eyes when I take off my shirt.
I don't love my body.
The first time you saw me naked
I wrapped my arms around my tummy
so that you couldn't see my belly.
You grabbed my arms and put them by my side,
and smirked
and said "beautiful".
I never hid myself from you again.
I don't love my body.
I hate the way my sides roll when I move.
You came home from practice,
bruised and bloodied.
You told me that your friend
tackled you to the ground
and you saw your life flash before your eyes;
you said
that my **** body
was the last thing you saw
before you momentarily blacked out.
I don't love my body.
I hate it.
I look in the mirror and see the most pathetic pile of
flesh, fat, muscle, bone and hair
that ever lived on this earth.
I waited so long to share it with another,
because I thought that this body,
this vessel,
was not worthy of appreciation.
You look at me the way a starving child looks at a five course meal.
You touch me like a homeless man sleeping on Egyptian cotton sheets
for the first time.
I don't love my body.
But the way you love my body,
the way you love my lumps and bumps and scars and flesh,
gives me hope that some day soon
I could grow to love it as well.
You make me feel things that I never thought I deserved to feel.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
EVERY year Emily Dickinson sent one friend
the first arbutus bud in her garden.
In a last will and testament Andrew Jackson
remembered a friend with the gift of George
Washington's pocket spy-glass.
Napoleon too, in a last testament, mentioned a silver
watch taken from the bedroom of Frederick the Great,
and passed along this trophy to a particular friend.
O. Henry took a blood carnation from his coat lapel
and handed it to a country girl starting work in a
bean bazaar, and scribbled: "Peach blossoms may or
may not stay pink in city dust."
So it goes. Some things we buy, some not.
Tom Jefferson was proud of his radishes, and Abe
Lincoln blacked his own boots, and Bismarck called
Berlin a wilderness of brick and newspapers.
So it goes. There are accomplished facts.
Ride, ride, ride on in the great new blimps-
Cross unheard-of oceans, circle the planet.
When you come back we may sit by five hollyhocks.
We might listen to boys fighting for marbles.
The grasshopper will look good to us.
So it goes ...
2.6k
Dear Death,
I know people will say I’m still young; That I’ve my whole life ahead of me, but I think I’m ready for you. Please come for me. My life aint as glamorous as people believe it is, they don’t know much about me. I’ve been drowning for so long in my own emotions that its a wonder you haven’t taken me already. I thought by now I would have already been dead from all that suffocation. Please death, these voices in my head are really torturing me. I can’t deal with this torment any longer. They are really hideous I swear. They make me do awful things. Sometimes, I cut just to feel pain so that it can drown their voices. That’s the only way to shut them up, I swear! Mom and dad took me to a shrink; they think something is wrong with me. I think they are right, but what they don’t realize is, I’m damaged beyond repair. They love me, I know they do. That’s why every time I stare at them sleeping at night, knife in hand I can’t do what the voices tell me. As much as they torment me, I can’t **** them. I love them. The voices tell me to hurt a lot of people, but I’m not that kind of person, I couldn’t hurt a fly. But the voices hurt me if I don’t do what they say. The cutting doesn’t work anymore, I can’t drown them anymore. Yesterday I blacked out. Mom found tommy, our cat skinned in the back door. I guess that explain the blood on my shirt. I burnt the shirt so that mom won’t know, but I think the voices are taking control of me. I don’t know what to do. I can’t explain what I do when I black out. The doctors didn’t help, they only made things worse. So now I turn to you. Please Help Me!!! I’ll do all the work, just a bullet in my mouth, that should do the trick…
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 3:39 AM UTC
There was a saviour
Rarer than radium,
Commoner than water, crueller than truth;
Children kept from the sun
Assembled at his tongue
To hear the golden note turn in a groove,
Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes
In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles.
The voice of children says
From a lost wilderness
There was calm to be done in his safe unrest,
When hindering man hurt
Man, animal, or bird
We hid our fears in that murdering breath,
Silence, silence to do, when earth grew loud,
In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout.
There was glory to hear
In the churches of his tears,
Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck,
O you who could not cry
On to the ground when a man died
Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood
And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell:
Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself.
Two proud, blacked brothers cry,
Winter-locked side by side,
To this inhospitable hollow year,
O we who could not stir
One lean sigh when we heard
Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour
But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall
Now break a giant tear for the little known fall,
For the drooping of homes
That did not nurse our bones,
Brave deaths of only ones but never found,
Now see, alone in us,
Our own true strangers' dust
Ride through the doors of our unentered house.
Exiled in us we arouse the soft,
Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks.
2.6k
I woke up in the afternoon
Missed myself the morning train
It's the second one that I've missed
Since I tried to get going around 6am
I can't keep my eyes from tearing
My hands from doing their not-so-cool shakes
I reach into my pockets for something
That just feels a little bit like yesterday
I can hear the whistle blowing
From outside my apartment door
I believe for the first time
Maybe I should drive to work
We missed each other's calls from last night
I counted the minutes that passed,
I drank myself a thirty-three year old brandy
I stole from my parent's liquor cabinet.
The 10:00am buzz to get me right
Started for, is it Saturday?
I don't drink but to remember
I drink to remember the pain.
A .44 at close range
My heart skips with great excite,
The bullet-proof vest I wear when I'm shot
May barely not save my life.
I've grown tired off waiting for the beach
I swim with sharks blacked out in the dark
Playing dares with Sarah Marie.
Until the wild Pacific digs its first row of teeth into me.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
I been on, and on, and on going at it.
Bring the metal, if you have it.
We can play it out.
I'm paranoid, indulge into the void.
I'm a black Savage, bad as Black Sabbath.
Set your ship, shit-deep,
Your last words, you better
assist with what we can salvage!
The other side of me, asked _if you can manage!_
I'll take us both out!
Go out. Goku and Raditz
Blasted into King Kait's World
Special Beam Canon.
None of this is common.
None of ths Canon.
I'm no Nick, we wildin' out
Flying high, disregard all by default
without a calculated LANDING.
KOBE!!! DAMN! We miss you!
_Repent for our sins. Cause we done ENOUGH DAMAGE!
I'm losing my patience and my cool
I'll be ****** if another fool
goes inside a school, with a gun
I'm no mailman. But I will bust out the package.
Go ham on the packet, take it out da plastic!
I'll road-rage-rampage, Laredo Heat
Blacked out Bandit. I am coming for answers!_
No water, all Ice with fire.
Pray for help, if he's old enough
To game and gamble, then he can get scrabbled.... like eggs!
Then give him every sample to lead by example
I am not playing games, off with his head!
i am not soft with the dread.
Get ravaged and dismantled
act hard, then get HANDLED!!
Help me. Help me. Help me....
White noise bringing the realization
from the brain's static
_My mind's eye open, I'ma black man,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I
no **** with black magic!
Playing board games, got me bored with your tactics
Try me, you be in Monopoly, figuring why you're "Sorry"
The trouble is on it's way and Trouble is bringing damage
I got nothing else to lose,
My life more wasted than CJ on
highway drifting on xanax.
SKKKKKKKRRRRRRRRRTTT!!!!!!!
Awh **** HERE WE GO AGAIN._
Aug 7, 2022
Aug 7, 2022 at 9:39 PM UTC
In Red square
the cowards gathered
with green eyes and little minds
attack, attack its all for one and one for all
The white queen
and all her heirs are protected
see her white knights and all pawns
rightfully in white shining and stainless
See the black king
that is our enemy so attack
he has no knights and owns no pawns
easy target as we know his pieces have blacked out
In Red square
the cowards gathered
with green eyes and little minds
its all about colour and white is always right
we do it in the shadows and know how to spin the yarn
Mar 22, 2022
Mar 22, 2022 at 8:30 PM UTC
It came upon a Christmas eve not so long ago
A beast deformed in stature, walked out from the snow
It’s eyes were sharp and wild, jagged teeth like shards
It went from house to house leaving hoof prints in the yards.
Glancing into windows warm with light and life
It was here to reconcile an old and bitter strife
It had a bag that screamed and cried as it dragged it on the ground
An awful thing just an awful thing, to have to hear that sound
It threw its nose into the air and began to sniff and snort
This demon was on to something but what I can’t report
In the bitter cold, you could smell it’s breath of rot and discontent
The chains that draped its frame, made its spine look broke and bent
The wind it howled in vain to warn the people of this beast
It’s cries went unregarded as people sat before their feast
The demon ceased its searching when it came upon my house
I did my best to hide and stay as quiet as a mouse
I walked back into the shadows in the corner of my room
Voiceless, breathless, terrified what was this thing of gloom
I heard it leap onto the deck and drop its sack upon the floor
A resounding thud caked in mud, it wasn’t crying anymore
I left my room and crept down the stairs to see if it got in
Hoping it wasn’t that demon who they said would eat my skin
It stood before the fireplace, the front door was opened wide
I don’t know how this thing got in but I had nowhere left to hide
It turned its face from the fire with a scowl you’d have to see
The demon had a quarrel alright and the quarrel was with me
It pulled out from the pocket of its robe all blacked and charred
A burning piece of paper then it handed me its card
The card read only “Krampus” before I felt it’s claws upon my throat
Now I’m in a bag with other kids set for some other place remote
We were bad and didn’t listen to our parents and their orders
We broke a lot of rules and disrespected borders
Now ole Krampus has us and he’ll probably sell us off as food
This is what you get if you’re whiny, mean, or rude
Now have a merry Christmas and do as you’ve been told
Lest you wind up in a demons bag being dragged upon the road
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
Birds of a feather flock together in the sultry atmosphere, whirring in and out of crepuscular clouds as if it were nothing special. feathers more like needles blacked under the godless face of the wind. The cliff's voice clings to their sun-smeared backs, reminds them of his own position on an empty, red planet and they sing back that gravity lament. The sky goes on about the lovely morning air and sunlight marches when all birds want is a place to lie down from that brittle flight, to rest their hollow bones filled with a lost longing.
Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 12:56 PM UTC