Locked down and secure.
In protective custody over you.
And, they claim my love is the evidence to convict.
And I can't say it don't make sense.
Cause it's true.
I'll serve my time quietly.
While being in the custody of you.
You can guard me twenty four seven.
You're my angel of love sent from heaven.
In Brooklyn, in these hectic times,
if Mom-hood gets you down
you need a little pick me up
so you won't fret and frown.
When we boomers were just babies
Mom might have a glass of wine.
Just enough to take the edge off
and leave her feeling fine.
But Generation X and Y
are more like Cheech and Chong
when baby gets your dander up
It's time to light a bong.
A little toke of Mary Jane
gives Moms a pause to sigh.
"Good night Moon" is a gripping read
when Mom is flying high.
Put the little Prince to bed
before Mom has a fit.
Motherhood is stressful
she just needs to take a "hit"
When the" little terrors" get you down
Just think - "this too will pass"
sneak off and roll yourself a joint
We know you have a stash.
When I was younger, I would wait for him
to die. I loved him - at least I wished I did.
He used to be my D.A.D., and acronym.
Remaining in the mobile home, amid
his “hidden” sex toys and unlocked arsenal-
when he would return, my brother and I hid.
His I.Q.? Soaring, but he lacked a soul,
he killed kittens for fun and never got caught.
Covert sociopath; maintaining control.
Court ordered visits left my mother distraught,
she wrestled the system over us for years,
our knight in shining armor that always fought.
The battle was won after many shed tears -
to a virgin life we forged, pioneers.
nothing pushed my creativity
more than someone trying to
take my baby daughter from me
peaceful on the outside
I always wanted to save the world
now it is with unmatched
and inescapable vengeance
especially my students
with early childhood trauma
but deep down in my world of communication
a whirlwind that no one really knows
but I must add
I now have absolutely no doubt
that the passion that has been
culminated in society
that I get to experience
comes from the shared experience
of children being taken into slavery
this is the destruction of the human origin
which we need to have a nice happy ending
we all come from Africa
not from slavery
and when I am a black man
all my lifetimes that have been
tortured and killed
for being accused of being angry
by any means necessary
genocide of us
the only choice is creativity
and although this in itself
is also a threat
and will get me killed
atleast it does not satisfy
their lust for dismembering
into their pickle jars
for their children to save for their children
My hands were shaking
Not as hard as yours, I'm sure
You almost lost everything and I
was forced to watch,
bearing silent witness to a
destruction not my own
but at which I felt at fault,
thus I digested it as my own
In my mind, I had lived fantasies of
something like this happening--
you, helpless, I hold fast to your life and then
salvaging you, just barely,
scaring us both out of life and then
falling back into something new--
dark, strange, and yet intimate
This has happened to me twice now (for real)
and neither time was nearly as glamorous as
I had played out in my mind
(I'm a stupid girl)
Both times I felt drained of a vital energy I couldn't
I became an echo
we were skeletons of
the children we once were. Both times
of sleep, and years, and appetite.
of innocence, and soul, and
bleeds out uncontrollably
in times like these
and out with love
spreads guilt and shame
(I'm a jinx, I'm a cursed girl)
across the tar, filling the black empty
cracks with invaluable energy
Full of foreign weight
cargo stored too long
too far pushed down our throats
My hands were shaking
Not as hard or as long as yours
my favourite song is sail to the moon live by radiohead and when he replied that it was his as well I was overwhelmed
we layed together and let the haunting phonics echo through your room
I pressed my head to your chest and let your heart beat sync with the sound
two days later you told me you loved me and I was astounded when I heard the same words fall from my lips
I fell asleep listening to radiohead my head on the pillow and my heart in your hands
everyone warns you about heartbreak
They say that young love never lasts
and while they may be right I ask
Myself why I was never warned of the danger of a different kind of fracture
You broke my taste in music you jerk
Teenage relationships don't generally end in divorces but the forces were at play and it ended anyway
Nobody worries about who walks away with the songs you've loved since childhood
Like Bono was my dude but you loved Beautiful Day so now we're not on good terms
Like Real People Do was the jam but you ruined it man
Why did I have to talk to you about music,
Janis Joplin, was poppin and Bob Dylan was killin but I told you all about it and now I'm not about it
the opening bars of sail to the moon rip me in open
and while we didnt have children I'm the short amount of time that we were living
In each other's embrace
music was our offspring and someone should have warned me about this thing where you aren't supposed to overshare
and though I have many questions about why it ended, why it's still going on, the biggest are why I told you my favourite song
and after the pseudo divorce
Who the hell gets custody of radiohead??
Finding decent Fathers from the hood is a losing game,
Where one dad's skipped out, three blocks full did the same.
Every time I see my son, I think about his name.
His name isn't his title, it's a gift from where he's came.
He's a growing boy, one that has to feed.
I break my body, mind and soul to make sure he has what he needs,
And if I can't provide it, then it doesn't exist,
Because I do anything for him; even with a broken wrist.
I remember the first time I held him in his bundle,
I felt nothing but responsibility that humbles,
Joy, and pride at my newfound seedling,
I swear, before then I had never had that feeling.
But a few months later, his mom and me split,
She ditched us, and didn't seem to give a shit.
She stopped by maybe once a month for him,
Never brought supplies, like her visits were on a whim.
I raised him myself, and taught him how to speak,
When his first word was "Dada", my joy hit its peak,
I taught him how to clap, and how to high five,
And when he took his first steps- towards ME- I felt glad to be alive.
I felt the dark thoughts dissipate with every hug,
And his cries turn me to a cheetah, from a slug.
I'd break down the walls of hell if it meant keeping him safe,
Or build an entire city myself, at whatever pace.
But the she-demon returned and she wants to take him from me,
Why she wants him now is something that's stumped me.
But I'm determined to get custody of my son, and first born,
And doing this would turn me from just a dad,
Into the Unicorn.
The snow drifts from the roof tops,
Lights shine in the brisk evening.
Cheer is spread,
Joy follows behind the winter winds.
Letters are sent North to Saint Nick,
Children dream of what might come in the early morn,
Prayers are shared around the dinner table.
Memories are created to be never forgotten.
Stories being shared with those you love.
Tears fall upon my pillow,
While bellows of laughter echo,
From the other side of the bedroom door.
Life seems to be coming to a stop.
My only Christmas wish is to be by your side,
Surrounded by the most welcoming family,
The warmest love,
The family I always hoped to be apart of...
Yet it still isnt feeling like Christmas.
The joy, cheer and laughter being stolen away,
The pain hiding behind a fake smile..
The words echo "it could be worse."
If its true I dont want to know what it is.
My only prayer is that I wake up by your exciting yells.
All my letters to dear Saint Nick saying one thing.
"Please bring him home."
All go unanswered.
My only Christmas wish is to hear you say,
"Im home Mommy."
Hold you in my arms as we see what Santa has blessed you with.
Then what shall we call them
if we are to become men?
shall we say,
'another day is as good'
It's a mystery tour around the graves,
the dead, only
the living can rot
they paint pictures
I've got some
and then some,
a mistress in waiting?
It is time and a bit
to ponder on it
reflections in mirrors are
scissors that cut me,
but it's not me anymore
that I see
is the door locked?
is the dog in?
questions begin when reality sends
me a love bite
sit tight and hold on
to the one if it's your
and let the world spin.
Life has really been so strange to me. Moments cascade through my mind. A picture here, a sound there, all nostalgia.
Bullfrog eggs in a tractor tire filled with water,
and I am 6 and I am alone.
I am in the woods,
and I am away from home.
I am missing my mom,
who has been gone a while.
I am strange,
in the mind of a child.
When My grandparents stole me from my drug addicted mother,
I felt as if i couldn't go on, like I would truly smother.
5 was to young to be ripped away from her,
and I would be underestimating it if i said it just hurt.
It was like my air supply had been ripped from my lungs
It was like I was on autopilot pretending to have fun.
a New school No mom, no dad either.
Just grand ma and Grandpa, they did keep it cleaner,
but it wasn't the same.
To me it was insane.
It was different it was wrong..
I couldn't go on.
Didn’t you wish they cared?
Didn’t you wish they wanted you?
Didn’t you wish they pretended?
Didn’t you wish they wouldn’t have started it?
Didn’t you wish they hadn’t hadn’t showed you the pain?
Didn’t you wish they would pay more attention?
Didn’t you wish they never said what you wished you’d never hear?
Didn’t you wish they saw how it affected you?
Don’t you wish they cared sooner?
Don’t you wish they didn’t want you back?
Don’t you wish they didn’t pretend?
Don’t you wish they would just end it?
Don’t you wish they would let you feel the pain again?
Don’t you wish they didn’t pay attention?
Don’t you wish they would say it again?
Don’t you wish it didn’t affect you?