bitsy the poet Feb 2016

My mind resembles something like
a rabid VCR—baring its teeth,
foaming, unapologetic, at the mouth,
rewinding and replaying and repeating
all of the small cuts of two people
I swear I used to know and love.
Rerunning a patchwork reel of the scenes
I can stand to remember—
(which is all of them when I’m feeling
particularly masochistic).
Rhythmic static travels from
top to bottom of my mind’s eye—
a familiar flaw, cracking and popping
as the picture struggles to come clear.
I try to stop it—all of it.
Rip plug from outlet—
throw this snarling archaic beast
against some unsuspecting wall.
But it’s made in the good ol’ US of A
and runs on something
a bit more complicated than
any energy they can send me a bill for.
So I'm stuck
in this cyclical hell,
where there is no fresh air,
and the only oxygen I can get
has to be sucked through
a barely functioning dollar store crazy straw.
And, really, my only anger is directed at Dante
for not including this part
in his little ditty about the Inferno.
I swear I’d take
trying and failing
to escape a river of boiling blood
over whatever it is that causes me
to create a dramatic VCR metaphor
any day.

© Bitsy Sanders, February 2016
Thandiwe Feb 2016

Injection of love has no limits,
Diminishes bad habits, only traces of a worthy candidate.
We ride the wave of feelings and serenade our ears to the rhythmic beats of our hearts.
How often do the least get rewarded, unseen and unblemished by the horror of life.
This world is paved with gold, pity those treasures are covered by things stale and old.
But not this love...it awakens the soul and traces back the lies we were told.
Capture my runaway train of thought and reign my wishes,
Drowning in my blushes, if words were permanent and memories paintings.
They would create what's never seen...write a story using the strokes of colour displaying my thoughts.
This pie in the sky feeling is blowing up the dust off my feet,
Keep my eyes smiling and inspiring me to always appear neat...spit in the face of defeat,
For after brokenness comes something sweet.
It's me again...leaving behind what was and forgetting there is such a thing as pain.
We keep moving, this love keeps sowing, and unaware of the growth underground, we keep growing.
I love this love. It looks appealing...something out of your dreams which comes alive before your eyes.
It looks great and fun, anticipating excitement and never being out done.
Time...I picture it sitting in a corner with its legs crossed and watching from a distance. It knows when and even know and even beyond the now.
The human heart carries so much...how it can carry hate and love together is hard to imagine.
How does it do it...carry such strong repelling emotions yet still survive...I choose the latter.
There is no darkness in it nor is there despair...
See when you let love take you...you welcome a gentle peck from the heavens.
It warns your soul and melts the concrete that had engulfed the heart...now finally you can hear your soul mates knock.
Laughter and long walks, sunsets and crazy talk....
This image might not be for everyone, but love invites everyone.
I love love...it sees no faults, just purity on the eyes of its viewer.
It hurdles you when the world batters you...keeps you sain.
How can I not love love, when it rescued me in my most deepest and brutal pain.

James Brian Ker Feb 2013

Home boy thought he was a killer
Kept a necklace round his neck

In a villa near manila
A strange accurance
Small body found dead
Little homey died underneath the currents

Homeboy was sure of his assurance
A good swimmer
His name was probably Laurence

He was just a few feet from shore,
When this Alligator about six feet or four,

His eyes went wide, bug eyed and crazy
This is when it all got a little hazy

Sarah Jean Ashby Aug 2011

The DOT: Where dreams go to die
And people go to wait in line
Sit in plastic chairs for hours
Next to mr. homeboy
And some chick that never showers

I'd like to finish this poem,
But they just called my number

Peace out, Bitches.

Took my brother to the DOT and got bored. This place will drive you crazy. Hence "Peace out."
Geno Cattouse Oct 2013

Joe of to the poky.
Joe off to the pen.

Joe of the  booze wagon again and again.
Joe  fit shased and sailing, three sheets to the wind.

Joe swearing and cussing.
Joe  in the back seat.

Joe sits on  wrists. fingers all numb.
Joe tossin his cookies. Joe real  no count bum.

Joe know all the coppers
And breaks in the rookies.

"Hey rook" asks Joe " "can you loosen these up"
My hands been asleep since Henry was a pup.

Joe Bangles they call him and erbody knows.
That Joey cant get lit up  and keep on his clothes.

Institutional homeboy.
Going back to the house.

Three hots and a cot.
and wild  stories to tell.

slippers and tooth brush in an eight by ten cell.

Mr. Joe Bangles Dance.

The guy we all know or have seen in one form or another.
Stainless steel bangles are accessory of choice.
Sam Temple Mar 2016

cross-over
behind the back
simple wrist flip
34 footer drops
and I sit in awe --
having witnessed
Showtime
Magic, Kareem, Worthy
Vs.
The Parquet floor
and Larry Bird….,
the bad boys,
and the Jordan era
(both incarnations),
big Timmy in San Antonio,
and Hakeem in Houston,
Shaq and Kobe,
Kobe and Gasol,
the reign of a new king
shinning like the sun in Miami...
they all sit back
like me
mouth open
feeling a state of awe
muthafukkin Stephe Curry
……hope homeboy stays healthy,
I like bearing witness to NBA godliness –

Francie Lynch Sep 2014

I've a sinking friendship,
Torpedoed by the bullshit,
And listing.
The first mate mutinied.
Once a blood brother,
Like no other;
An intimate
At an imminent end,
An alter-ego
More than a friend.

I've been too patient,
Veered off course
With understanding.
I'm quite sure
This Pythias
Would run and leave me
Hanging.

I'm on a cliff
And won't hang on
To a blade of trust,
A fawning pawn.
He had my back,
I turn,
He's gone.

This partisan
Must part
A homeless homeboy,
A dissembling fraud.

No longer a mainstay,
He's insecure,
His equivocations
Make lines blur,
I don't believe
Him anymore.

He really needs a soul-mate,
Classmate, playmate,
But he's become a reprobate,
Lying prostrate,
Lying up straight.
I'll drown my Boswell
In my inkwell;
No longer
An advocate.

The laughs have left,
Yes,
I'm bereft,
But I'll catch the wind.
My course is true.
This friendship
Can't be salvaged.
It's scuttled,
And I won't
Sink with you.

C Alan Horn Aug 2014

What the hell happened to society.
Why are kids now the adults in the family.
Children never asked to be born or be here.
So, why the hell do you feel like they owe you something.
Kids having kids.
Never made any sense to me either.
There’s no one to learn from these days.
There are no more leaders.
No more proud fathers,
Now they are just too proud.
No more loving mothers,
Too damn busy or ratchet and loud.
Peace is all people ask for,
But ironically screaming it loud disturbing the peace.
Yelling out for help to the government,
While accepting the rights they pull from under our feet.
Why is it that when we need, prices sky rocket like weeds?
Then the process and progress of wants takes the lead to mal-nourishly feed our greeds,
Putting us in turbulent positions like taking chances that can result in death or prison.
Not many to teach us to think about consequences before risky decisions,
Then we bow down pray on our knees then ask for forgiveness…
It all seems back-assward to me!
The more we try to define ourselves the more we drown in our own confusion.
When they convinced us that our fight was imaginary we started fighting amongst ourselves, no contest, but you keep fishing for winners and losers.
I got a homegirl that say she a MC,
But all she knows how to do is Make Children.
I got a homeboy that say he a hustler,
But its just them lies he be pushin’.
Some think they gangstas,
But they have a full time job.
Ma could’ve taken the MCAT or passed the BAR,
But she became a single mom.
You must change your frequency in order for you to evolve.
Before the unravelling of evolution leaves us all putrefied, closer to JAH.
Ass Backwards.

An entry from the book, "Apocalyptic" by C. Alan Horn. Coming Soon!
Homegrownintent.com
Del Maximo Jan 2010

standing high atop
the place where he cashed his checks
armed with 5 gallons
Arrowhead's extinguisher
a hero in a bottle
he foolishly fought
the flames of civil unrest
then the roof caved in
good intentions killed in vain
swallowed by the fire pit

days dressed in mourning
haunting the cemetery
tending her grave's grass
grieving guilty tears of loss
for the young daughter she had
she was too busy
caught up in "bargain's" frenzy
lost sight of her girl
her 12 year old was trampled
beneath the lust of looters

gasoline cans brought
to burn the local market
were beat back badly
chased away by baseball bats
a homeboy fire brigade
"This is our market!
The only one in the hood.
It ain't goin' down.
We saw the news on tv.
That shit ain't happenin' here."

tales of rioting
the worst and best in people
national headlines
the leviathan rises
through the smoke, fire, and ash
anger incited
latent hooliganism
an unjust verdict
for police brutality
can't we all just get along?

Sam Temple Apr 2016

yo, dawg
I remember this one time
we was straight chillin
I fell out and was sleepin hard, dawg
my homeboys was actin the fool
smoking that tea
wildin out
like they was straight mad
party was of the hiz-ook
then this little blond tramp rolled in
takin bout whitey
o’ some shit
I was tore up, dawg
sleepin in a muthafukkin teapot
this ho flappin her gums
bout this and that
like we give two fucks
homeboy, we was jess lookin to rip it up
out of the blue this trick
says ‘cat’
dawg, I jumped up
running across the table
moving furniture
up in this here muthafukka
my homeboys lit out after me
hollerin like big dawgs
one a’ those fools
we like to call the Hatter
went to rubbin a bit o’ jam on my nose
a little on the gums
you how we do
anaway
that shit did the trick
and I fell out
hard like a muthafukka
passed. the fuck. out.
hit the bricks and skid my chin
you feel me?
bout that time this little trip rolls in
talking about being late n’ shit
that Hatter straight destroyed his rolex
send homeboy to cryin like sissy
dawg, that shit was the craziest party
we still talk about the madass shit
…..never knew what happened to the blond
chick was a trip ---

poetry month prompt 21
Wayne Pritchett Oct 2010

im happy for you
even if your not with me
thats pretty hard to say
and even harder to mean
since im still intoxicated
from your bodies potion
drank time and time again
while our bodies where in motion
the solution to my problems
my sunshine after the rain
i cant stand to see
this chump steal my shine
treating you like a queen
dammit that was my dream
those were my hopes
now swirling down the drain.

you know this isnt right
that fool dont hold you
tight enough like me
not realizing your worth
a value more than a fortune
like that symbol that continues
im stuck in that groove
infinity ill spend
pacing tryin to figure when
I can put another bid in
to try to make it right.
when homeboy hacks it up
give me a chance
to show my change
to right my wrongs
and soothe the pain
caused by foolish games
immaturity made me play
I see the error in my actions
and I vow they wont happen
cause I don’t want a repeat
no more tears of sorrow
from hoes that cant compete
who I thought had you beat

until that day I sit
with a fake smile
and my tongue bit
cause im happy for you
since he is good to my boo
even though I hate the vision
of you huggin that buffoon
him kissing your lips
I almost vomit thinkin that shit
but I love you to death
the most definite end
so for the sake of us being friends
ill pretend to be happy for you

(c) Wayne Pritchett September 2010
Nova Flames Jun 2013

OMG! my brother, is so destructive, he treats even a jewel like its rubbish
he is soo stubborn, he gets under my skin like sunburn, but in the end he's still my brother.
i wouldnt have in any other, why? cuhz he down for the fam like southern? lol  

i realized people you can never govern but even currently as he proceeds to walking on the second story on his FREAKEN KNEES! i realize i must make a compromise that there might be something about me he doesnt agree with,, so lets avoid the conflict cuhz it looks like a slippery cliff,,, wtf is he doing upp there sounds like artillery ships and shit!!!, im about to throw this fit,, but my homeboy like na flames here smoke this spliff,, na NAGA my mind is a gift and you kn ow im trying to quit!,, witch brings me across the next subject,,, i suspect my inner demons which demoralize my drive to subside with most high take my closest friends minds for a joyride,,, undercover like a spy to poison my ambitions to stay sober im so bipolar, being high is mediocre but when mind is clear i tend to turn into that ogre,,,i feel as if all is hopeless,,, i live in the moment i live in the ocean,, i think my name is Joseph,, and i sleep on my best friend sofas,,, i dont know where this story is going, long as i continue typing i guess its my way of coping i guess its my way of invoking,,,,

ThoughT Mar 2016
Zoo

Life is school, this is silly.  
I was always excited for recess,
Born to be Wild like homeboy Free Willy
Dustin checked in to eventually check out.
He knew there was so much more that our existence was about.
Went into the wild under the guidance of Rafiki

Nemo found himself at Free Thought Academy

Lion King was seen  weeping only tears of joy
At first roar of his cub, darling baby boy
He knew to nourish this being's mind, body, and soul.  So he gained deep wisdom in the art of breath control.  After this recognition, he taught his practice for free.  Nowadays everything is fluid and the kingdom thrives with ease.

Next page