"illegalities" poems
I sleep on sheets covered in beer and carry boxes of bottles to the trash room, boxes and sheets and smells that could get me in trouble with the people who wear uniforms
And I put my head on the shoulder beside me and everything is sweat and stale alcohol and three am and I was supposed to do more homework tonight. I was supposed to get more done and go to bed so much earlier.
But here I am, tired and lying beneath Kenyan blankets, atop Blue Moon covers, lightly taking your phone off your chest and setting it away as you slip into sleep beside me
Here I am, bringing you trash bags I bought with my own money, carrying a box of illegalities I didn’t drink to the recycling, leaning into your flanneled embrace in the Sunday morning quiet of the hallway
I will take care of you, no questions asked
I will always take care of you
Before sleep’s waves, in the dark, holding my hand to yours and telling you that I am here to talk— and knowing you will never take me up on it.
Asking you questions because it’s my job, and you say I do it too well, and we both know that that avoids the question in the first place.
I will take care of you, asked questions unanswered
It is 3 am on a Sunday, and I will take care of you
Always.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 12:00 AM UTC
part one:
everybody needs somebody to love;
to adorn with plastic ornaments;
to say they feel lost;
and mean it;
a real love:
feelings of assuredness.
believe me,
i am sure.
part two:
gasoline heaven lines nostrils-
and the brain-
and the hands and heart it controls.
the pockets, too.
is it sad to realize and not care?
that the pockets and the nostrils-
and the steel strings (and their haunting reverberation)-
and pencils to paper-
come before true, and honest love?
part three:
no bodies left behind,
or given away for the future.
no turpentine-
no poppies-
or silk.
no illegalities;
rule breaking;
infidelity-
a simple desire to be an artist
and the sacrifices an artist makes
only to fail and continue to yearn:
failure
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 2:23 AM UTC
FBI agents will have Hillary
on a piece of toast
the revelations in her emails
their roasting oast
indictments for a log of illegalities
the law of the land catching her
with an appropriate measure
of judicious penalties
America's lady President
downed before her first term ends
amongst the patriotic citizenry
she'll have few friends
impeachment warranted
by the proof so positive
which will shed a light
on her in the negative
The Clinton Foundation
and its unexplained money trail
who were the beneficiaries
of the pay dirt's pail
she'll be found out
once and for all
the illicit nature of her dealings
being a note worthy fall
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
*Am here
Maybe I was here
Writing you a sturdy poem
Screaming about something
Nothing
Sometimes
Am confused about religion
Religious thoughts, religion beings
That she hates
And I hate that she hates
But why does she hate
Ugh too much hate in gratification
and that pungent smell
Of love
Mostly "loved"
Coated in hypocrisy
Of belief and change
but for a penny
Or a few dollars
and the perfect orator
For your hearts
For your minds.
For the sake of politics
I'll shred your soul
but only if you don't mind
him being gay
Or lame
Or late for my crucifixion
Of inauguration
That was acquired through
Illegalities of power
hungry
She said
I can't love a broke man
that feeds me more lines
on a monsters ink
that you've woven
and left in my bed
for me to fall in love
With your raw
Open heart
that keeps fighting
racism
and equal rights
for women
against elite tyrants*
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 2:46 AM UTC