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The Matriarch of my family stands 73 years tall
One hip replacement
One lung and a long history of putting others before herself
She holds me as she cries
She whispers that she is so sorry for creating a history of women who put more love into men
Than they do themselves
I tell her
Not me Nana
I tell her that she is the most resilient woman on the planet
That selling her wedding rings and escaping material custody
Forced across the country with two small children is the bravest thing she has ever done
I reassure her that poverty is better than abuse
That one day I’ll take care of us all
I’ll stretch myself so big and hold all the women who live within lingering shadows
Scared to flee when it feels the entire universe is screaming stay into your face
Banging against the wall with angry fists
I tell her
Not you Nana
You don’t need saving
ConnectHook Sep 2015
Ogun owed Oxun for the fee he paid
to divorce Yemayá in the watery deep.
Babalu Aye‘s messenger delayed
(no *** in the bargain – price too steep)
until San Martín, divine caballero
deceived the third wife of el Indio Guerrero.

(Obatala‘s beats got lost in transit
the rhythm robbed by macumba-bandit.)

Eleguá cleared paths for He Who Opens Pores.
Black roosters smoked puros at midnight. Outdoors,
Santa Muerte was asked to turn down the noise
so Nana Buluku could get some sleep.

As she gathered Ashé, reduced to a heap
of Yoruba fool’s gold anointed with blood
Oduduwa pretended he understood;
but his mother-in-law knew he never would
until Olódùmarè returned from the feast
having sacrificed roosters while facing east.

The santero drew me a pictogram
to protect me from forces my poem conjured
but the blood of a sacrificed perfect lamb
affords more protection, I knew. He wondered.
False Poets Oct 2017
does the moon get tired?

~for the children who never tire of moon gazing upon the dock,
by the light of the fireflies,
till the angels are dispatched by Nana,
to sprinkle sleepy dust in their eyelashes so long and fine~

while walking the dog I no longer have,
a happenstance glanceable up over the River East,
there you were, mr. moon, in all your fulsomeness ,
surrounded by a potpourri of courtier clouds,
all deferentially bowing, waving,
passing past you at a demure royal speed on their way
to Rebecca's northern London,
of was it south to grace of  v V v's Texas^,
in any event,
the cloudy ladies, all bustling and curvaceous,  
all high stepping in recognition of your exalted place,
Master of the Night Sky

the word careless, poets excessive,
sometimes called silly poppies, old men,
left footed, still crazy after many years,
most assuredly poets false all of us,
without a proper prior organized thought train,
bludgeon blurted,
an inquiry preposterous and strange,
strait directed to the sombre face,
to mister moon himself!

tell me moon, do you ever tire?*

the obeisant clouds shocked
as that face we all uniform know,
unchanged anywhere you might go  to gaze, be looking upon it,
watched the moon's face turn askew.

He looking down at our rude puzzlement,
with a Most Parisian askance,
a look of French ahem moustacheoed disbelief,
while we watched as the moon cherubic cheeks
filled with airy atmosphere,
then he sighed

so windy winding, was it,
so mountain high and river deep,
that those chubby clouds were blown off course,
from a starless NYC sky
all the way past Victoria Station,
only to stop at Pradip and Bala's
mysterious land of
bolly-dancing India,
on their way to Sally's Bay of Manila,
magic places all!

Mr. Moon looked down at this one tremulous fool representative  
(me) and in a voice
basso beaming and starry sonorous,
befitting its stellar positioning,
squinting to get a closer look at the
who in whom
dare address him in such an emboldened manner!

Mmmmm, recognize you, you are among those
who use my presence, steal my lighted beams, my silver aura,
my supermoon powered light, borrow my eclipses,
reveal my changeling shaped mystery without permission,
only mine to give, you tiny borrowers who write that thing,
p o e t r y

head and kneed, bowed and bent,
I confessed
(on y'alls behalf)

we take your luminosity and don't spare you
even a tuppence, a lonely rupee, no royalties paid
to you-up-so-highness,
and we hereby apologize for all the poets
without exception,
especially those moon besotted,
only love poem writing,
vraiment misbegotten scoundrels....

with another sigh equality powerful,
mr moon pushed those clouds across the Pacifica,
all the way to the  US's West Coast,
up to Colorado,
where moon-takings from the lake's reflecting light
so perfect for rhyming, kayaking,
and moonlight overthrowing,
once more, the moon taken and begotten,
as heaven- freely-granted

yes, I tire
and though  here I am much beloved,
usually admired though sometimes even blackened cursed,
seen in every school child's drawing,
in Nasa's calculations,
of my influential gravitational pull,
moving human hearts
to love and giving Leonard a musical compositional hint,
and while this admirable devotion is most delighting,
would it upset some vast eternal plan,
if but one of you once asked,
you fiddler scribblers
my prior permission,
even by just, a lowly
mesmerizing evening tide's tenderizing glance?

yes, I tire,
even though my cycles are variable,
my shape shifting unique, my names so at variance
in all your many musical sing-song dialectical languages,
my sway, my tidal currents so powerful a deterrence,
unlike my boring older sunny cousine  who just cannot get over
how hot looking she is,
I,  so more personally interesting,
yet you use me as if I were a fixture,
on and off with
a tug of the chain string,
never failing to appear,
even when feeling pale yellow and orange wan,
and worse,
mocked as an amore pizza pie,
do you ever ask how I am doing?

yes, I tire,
of my constant circuitous route that changes ever so slowly,
but yet, too fast for me to make some nice human acquaintances, especially those young adoring children
who give me their morn pleasurable squeals when they awake and my presence still there,
a shining ghost of a guardianship protector still
watching over them

how oft in life do we presume,
take for granted
grants so extra-ordinary
that we forget to remember
the extra
and see only the ordinary

how oft in life do we assume,
the every day is always every,
until it is not,
only an only
a now and then,
till then,
is no longer a

oh moon, oh moon,
our richest apologies
we hereby tender and surrender,
our arrogance beyond belief,
what can we offer in relief?

silence heard loud and clear,
mr. moon was gone,
a satellite in motion,
so our words burnt up in the atmosphere

we did not weep
nor huff and puff,
blow those clouds back to us,
for we knew
the extraordinary
would return tomorrow,
we will be ready,
better another day,
to prepare
a lunar composition,
a psalm of hallelujah praise,
for mr. moon
of which
mr moon will never tire,
for filled with the perma-warmth
of our affection
for the one we call mr.moon
False Poets is a collective of different poets who write here, in a single voice,
hence the confusing interchangeable switching of the pronouns.    sorry bout that.

^ HP - give them back the claimed  V name!
onlylovepoetry Apr 2018
zelle ma belle

(zelle is an interbank system for sending cash in an instant to someone else’s bank account)

sent her an unexpected $250,
at 4:00am, of course,
a check-plus for her life,
because she revel reviews her day at school,
as special person day, teaches them well, and
anointed, appointed unsolicited confirmation by them
“as part of our family”
how they crave her body, her touch, at scary movie parts,
her kitchens diner size menu,
her refusal to ever disappoint,
her candy drawer supreme,
her crayon color visions which they execute,
her zen sense of their moods,
and for me,
for calling them without hesitation
my grandchildren

indeed more here hers than mine
she asks me why the $$ and poet doesn’t lie
but thinks quick at 7:30 am while bed prone,
“you won Nana of the Day award”
the only (grandparent) on the floor with two kids in her lap,
for the magic show,
all the rest,
benched, chattingly adultry things

she thinks on it and says
“ok, I accept!”

p.s. also,  I have yet to inform her of the (my) elimination of a
crystal champagne flute while doing my manly cleanup  from Friday night lights dinner pink champagne celebrating  
le weekend’s arrival

Wangui Jun 2017
I wear beads and  African bracelets for beauty. I forget why the people before me wore them. I wear them with pride not because I earned them but because I simply look beautiful. Beautiful!? What does that even mean? My Nana has scars on her body. She shows them to me with pride. Narrates stories of the war in the past like an action movie only she didn't have a gun only bows and poisonous arrows. The missing teeth in her mouth causes her to spit almost every second she talks. But this embarrassment is only felt by me. She is proud of the hole in her mouth. Suddenly I feel the urge to remove my African beads. They have no meaning only that they are African and I am and so am entitled. But I have done nothing for my heritage. Not even fight for it. Slowly it's being forgotten and people are crossing over without a care in the world. 'To civilisation' we say.  'For the good of the people' we say. But is it? We were a community wrong as we were to circumcise women, marry them off at an early age, burn the wrong... We were a community. We loved each other. We cared. We taught our children how to feel and be the earth. We taught our children to respect the earth and in return the earth blesses us with herbs to cure. What did they call it? Aaah yes 'witchcraft'. We were not animals who forget their children in  pit latrines or by the river side just because we cannot afford them or don't want them. We cared not of individualism because together we grew in spirit, body and soul. It was not backward it was culture. And culture is flexible. It can change but can never be terminated. It is not a shoe that when you grow out of  you throw and buy another.
And so I am not telling you to go back to your roots because if am quite honest you were never in it. Rather embrace it. See how 'civilised' you will feel then.

The Red_Head
My nana told me
in a letter she once wrote:

come into
your life when
they're needed

they stay
for weeks, months
years even. And go
when both of you have
given each other all
that you can.

So not to
cry when those
you thought would
be with you forever
walk out that door
and move on

For if the day comes
when you need each other
again, your paths will
cross and repeat
Or did the cliché use me? It infected my mind, stole my words, and left me linguistically bankrupt. Every dog has its day, and yesterday was most certainly not mine. But all’s well that ends well, unless the well is actually a drowning pool, or a rat graveyard. Only Time will tell-unless I cut out its tongue and use its guts for garters. But without Time we’re all Living on a Prayer seeking a Stairway to Heaven borne by our 99 Red Luft Balloons with nothing but Faith, like Major Tom we’re floating away. Will Another One Bite the Dust before the the finale of this Bohemian Rhapsody? Whatever will be will be, and I will set forth my Long and Lonely Hallelujah long locked in my Heart of Gold, because I’m getting old Under Pressure screaming “let me out”-STOP! Hammer Time!  I may be Lost in the Supermarket, but Great Scot! I’ll get my guaranteed personality because in Nana-Land Anything Goes!
inspired by my Muse, Monica L.

presented as part of a Dawkins’-meme based poetrycollection at the 2019 “Trash Talkin’” literary Conference at the University of Regina, in Regina, SK, Canada
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Genau, enow, enough

after the confusion,

we all could make a sound, okeh,
and we still

knew a shaken head or hand or fist
had meaning beyond words and noise

my words, their noise, barbarians all, but my
loved ones, still,
my nana Even , none could say a meaningful word

Ah, papa Eber, eber he be waving sayin'

Shhhhlome. wow. a word, I was

re connected re tied re ligamented re tendoned
re nerved re *****
re bled
re breathed
inspire me, expire me, think me immaterial, no mattah

nomattatall we stick together, gone bealright

begrudge me not a bit o'livit ity, a st-utter here'n'there

words, in wars, we always win. We are war's
raison d'etre, as they say, its
rational grounds for existence, its
excuse for being.
words are the instigators, provocateurs

no wordless insult results in war,
words are needed,

fugitabowdit, how long? Seven times? 490 times?


once, each time, no more.
enoughs the evil enoughs enow.

the weapons of our warfare, how can I say,

we see salient leapers trampling the vintage, seeping
from the heel wound in the beguiler's head.
That's results.

Angels sing and dance, they never tremble in the night,
the hope we never lost,
we just forgot, they remember as if it were the same,
yes, today, forever
they whisper,
go on,
there's more to living than meets the eye.

enough has always had a plural, ask Sam Johnson.
AH, short line prose or long line poetry, musing or not, I never knew enough had a plural, the knowing inspired me
Onits Zuku Mar 2018
Mixed spice,
Flour floats in the air,
Warmth and warm smiles,
Music dances through the room,
Light shines gold,
The shuffling of feet and bursts of broad laughter,

Black and white,
Grandpa wipes a tear off his face,
A woman wails at the back,
A solemn man mumbles at the front,
White light shades the room,
Nana is dead.
#death #sad #remeber
~for Wendy ~

with my almost two years old poetry advisor,
who loves her Sunday rituals, an extra sabbath,
of waffles and Shrek, kid’s gym and artistic endeavors,
cozying up with Nana and siblings in a big old bed,
snacking and chewing on the good silk sheets

as always, she and and I go off to have an intellectual conversation,
letting the older ones to do kid stuff, while we converse and debate
topics of nature vs. nurture, the weather vs. climate change,
and the future of everything, unbeknownst to everyone else

which is greater, love or honor, she inquires,
sensing my thoughts are preoccupied with matters of honor...
as she strokes my itchy, scratchy day old face,
insuring her having my full attention, while
taking advantage of my loving weakness

honor over everything my opening gambit,
while she coyly harrumphs in response,
one can love without reason for such are
our natural souls programmed,
but honor needs concentration and contemplation,
and if done right,
then love will surely follow!

ah ha! once again you sidle up to nurture,
cause love is too inexplicable,
old man, old man, did I not love you before
any season of reason crossed my brow,
and my vocabulary consisted of just
more, no, toy and hungry

what did I know of Aristotle, logic, codes of conduct,
the definition of honor yet abstract,
while love is nature’s illogical construct,
coming first without restrictions,
while honor is malleable and
property of the eye of the beholder

wise beyond your tears, you are, and unquestionably correct,
but while coming first, love cannot last,
until cover-coated with honor,
for honor gives us the because, and locks down the why,
honor gives the insight, the rationale, the rules of how to say
yes and no, when love is tendered and an R.S.V.P. is requested

absent experience, for now will concede,
but be warned this is not over,
fo you have not brought me a definition of what truly honor be

honor is the housing of love, and though you granted me your favor,
comes the day that you will demand proofs that
what was unearthed & unearned
is now earned, a course in credit, a baccalaureate in life’s lanes,
when to heed them, when to crossover, when to say I do, I do,
no to someone else alone, and yes to your honorable self

adult double speak, I suspect, and you will rue the day
when forced to concede, with a wrenched
‘child, I do not know,’
meanwhile change my diaper
after I karate chop your knee

yes child, but know,  two of your requests/notifications are
honorable acts and/know real love can be ONLY be exchanged
tween honorable humans
see photo for her  in position preparing to strike

3/3/19 9:45 am
A Slow Heyoka Apr 27
That wrecking ball hits hard
Blows up in your face
I thought you nails short of a toolbox
Oh how you put me in my place

A pretty face but lacks all grace
She really is quite sweet
Wish I could charm her that little bit more
And sweep her off her feet

Take pictures with her all day long
Cause trouble and sing along
Get sweaty as she sings the worst kinds of things
Her music taste is really kind of wrong

I guess she's super hot and she knows it
She's dangerous to cheat
And the things she does with mayonnaise
I'm afraid I'll end up in defeat

But really she's a 6
trying to be a 9
That busy senorita
She's always running out of time

We laugh and love and fight
We've sometimes got quite close
I just want to hold you and not let go
Never have to feel the adios

Plan ahead potata head
You never seem to keep your word
Yet say the right thing all the time
Your fashion sense is quite absurd

My nana said to find a girl
That will take good care of me
And do my best to get her to say yes
When I get down upon one knee

Come sing with me again
we'll shout at the top of our voice
Nothing will stop us now
The world is ours it has no choice
Poem by: A slow Heyoka
April 2019
George Andres Mar 2018
Isang-libo, siyam na raan, siyamnapu't-siyam
Nang una nilang marinig ang pagtangis

Dalawang libo't labing-walo
Napakarami kong gustong bigkasin
Pero nauutal ako't lumalabas pagiging utak alipin
Para sa'yo sana, gusto ko pa ring sabihin,
Na, patawad Felipe, kung kay hirap **** mahalin

Wala ako nang tumangis ka kay Macoy
Huli kong nalaman ang tungkol kay Luisita
Masyado pa ba 'kong musmos upang ibigin ka?

Lubha lamang daw akong bata
Nagpupuyos ang damdamin
Walang pang kaalaman magdesisyon ng tama
Mapusok at madaling matangay
Manatili na lamang daw ako sa klase,
at kinabukasan ko'y sa mataas na marka ibase

Kaya't pinilit kong hindi pakinggan ang pagdaing mo
Ano bang alam ko upang magalit, maghimagsik?

Batid ko man ang kasaysayan mo sa mga prayle, kano't hapon, labis ko pa ngang inidolo si Luna't Bonifacio noon

Hindi ba't namatay rin sila sa kasibulan nang dahil sa'yo?
Natatakot ako, na balang araw iyon rin ang sapitin ko sa piling mo
Mainit ang puso ko, pero malamig ang paa't kamay
Hindi ko kayang palayain ka
Tipid ang boses ko upang ipagsigawan ka
Nagtagpo tayo sa panahong akala ko malaya ka na

Hindi ka pa pwedeng umiyak
Hangga't hindi pa tapos ang lahat
Ano bang alam mo upang magalit, maghimagsik?

Ngunit hindi ko kayang lumingon pabalik
Hindi ko kayang matulog muli nang wala ang 'yong halik
Hindi ko kayang mahimbing nang wala ang mga gunita

Dekada Sitenta.
Bungkos ng namumuong nana
Nilalapnos ng kumukulong tubig
Dumaranak ang dugo sa sarili **** balat
Tumatalilis at tinatanggalan ng bayag

Paiikutin ang roleta't ipuputok sa sintido
Ihihiga ang katawan sa bloke ng yelo
Papasuin ng upos ng sigarilyo
Ibabalanse ang katawan hangga't may lakas pa ang kabayo
Hindi ito mga metaporang naririnig ko lang sa mga kwento

Hindi na ako magtataka kung may diyos pa ba
A kung kahit isang beses nilingon ka man lang niya

Kung ang nakikita ng mata ay dumudurog ng puso
At ang mga salita ay pumapainlalang

Silang 'di nakaririnig ay dapat kalampagin
Hampasin ang higanteng pintuan at sipain
Ang pader na marmol na walang bintana
Galit na sumusunog ng patay na tala
Hindi kumakalma, pilit nagbabaga, nagtatangka

Ano bang alam ko upang magalit, maghimagsik?
Maaari ko bang palitan ng paglilingkod ang iyong biyaya?
Mas madali naman siguro magsalita
Kung 'di mo batid ang paghangos ng maralita

Mainit ang puso ko, pero malamig ang paa't kamay
Hindi ko kayang palayain ka
Tipid ang boses ko upang ipagsigawan ka
Nagtagpo tayo sa panahong akala ko malaya ka na

Nang masulyapan ka nang unang mabuksan ang aking paningin
Gusto ka lang naman palaging kita ng mata
Wala pa man natatakot na akong makitang umiiyak ka
Mas mapalad ba ang mga bulag o tulad kong piring ang mata?
Hinayaan mo akong maging alipin
Itinatatwa ko ang araw na namulat ako
Ang hirap naman kasing maka-usad mula sa'yo
Matapos mabura ang mga kasinungalingang sa'yo'y ibinabato
Kumbaga, ikaw 'yung maraming sakit na pinagdaanan, dadagdag pa ba 'ko?
Oh, Felipe, kay hirap **** mahalin

Habang binabasa ko ang kasaysayan ****
Nagaganap pa rin hangang sa ngayon
Parang itinutulak ang aking sikmura
At ang balat ko'y nagsisiklabo
Hindi tumitigil ang mga luha

Ilang taon matapos maghalal ng bagong pangulo
Pinaulanan ng bala ang mga humihingi ng reporma

Dalawang-libo't apat
Matapos ang tatlong dekada
Mga batas na pabor lang sa mayama't may kaya

Gusto lang naman namin mabuhay
Nang hindi inaagaw ang aming kabuhayan
Nagtatanim ng bala't hindi binhi
Umaani ng bangkay hindi punla

Lupa mo'y hinulma ng dugo
Parang imbes na pataba ay pulbura ang inaabono
Para bang ang buhay ko sa'yo'y Walang katapusang pakikibaka
Para bang ang inaani ko'y dusa sa Buong buhay na pagsasaka

Matapos ang apat na taon

Kinikitil nila isa-isa ang mamamahayag
Nilibing ng traktora't patong-patong ang buto't balat
Pinagkanulo mo at hayagang pumayag
Mga berdugong hinayaan mo lang lumayag

Dalawang libo't labing-lima
Nangingisay sa walang habas na pangraratrat
Hanggang huling hininga'y maubos, mawala sa ulirat
Apatnapu't-apat **** mandirigma
Lumusong sa mapanganib na kagubatan na walang dalang sandata o pananggalang man lang
Malupit ka, hanggang saan ipagtatanggol ang laya mo?
Hindi pa ba sapat ang lahat ng luha?
Nagsasakripisyo para sa hindi siguradong pagkakakilanlan bilang Pilipino

Ikalawang Milenya.
Ngayon naririnig ko na ang pagpapatahimik laban sa karapatan **** magpahayag
Nagsasakripisyo ng dugo ng mga tupa
Para sa huwad na pag-unlad
Pinapatay ng bala ang uhay
Habang matapos tapakan ang upos ng sigarilyo,
Pagtatalunan ang dilaw at pula
Kung sino ba ang mas dakila
Aastang **** na tagapagligtas
Na siyang hawak ang lahat ng lunas
Napakarami nang diyos sa kasaysayan
Pawang dinikta, ibinigkis ang kalayaan

Ninais kong mahiga na lamang at hintayin ang bukang liwayway
Na pinangarap din noon ng mga ilustrado't rebolusyunaryong mararangal
Wala nang lunas ang sumpa ng edukasyon
Magpalaya ng isipang noo'y nakakahon

Wala sa akin noon ang lakas ng bagyo
Hanggang sa nabatid kong malulunod na rin ako
Wala akong nagawa kundi tumangis

Felipe, lumuluha ka rin ba? nasasaktan ka pa ba o manhid ka na?

Gayunpaman, tahan na, Felipe, tahan na.

annh Feb 22
'My life is over, it’s completely over!'
My granddaughter sobs inconsolably into my best linen handkerchief.
‘I’ve made s-o-oo many mistakes. Why can’t things be the way they used to be?’
She clutches my gnarled liver-spotted hand, with its swollen joints, and old gold.
‘You do understand, don't you, Nana?'
‘If youth knew; if age could.’
- Sigmund Freud
Ivan Brooks Sr Aug 2018
Why do you take the great ones?
You come with your death notes
And without any prior warning
You leave scores of people crying
Why leave the ones that are dumb
Why can't we have a referendum?
I don't think it's fair to remain stoic
Maybe you will see truth ,the logic
And the reason to reconsider things.
Nobody likes what your visitation brings
Stop taking the people we love most.
Take a break from job and read this post
Tell me afterward if I'm right or wrong
We are tired swaying to your funeral song.
Today you took the great Kofi Annan
Almost on the same date you took my Nana.
Day before yesterday you took Aretha
Like you took my dearest Aunt Martha.

We need to talk to death
Sometimes I reminisce about my kid days, sometimes I wish I could go back and be conscious of all the great it was
Well, that was after we escaped the dim days, I’d wake up to a little house with two back yards and adventures awaited us
Me and my lil’ brother that was, we’d fight all day like any siblings
But we tagged along and cooperated too, played games until our eyes needed chillin
We had fun in those woods, dirt bikes, four wheelers, anything with an engine that sounded good
Summertime was the most fun, Fourth of July shenanigans, bein beach bums, winter time sledding and Christmas love
Tried doing things as a family unit as much as possible, going out to dinner with laughing that was unstoppable
Visiting my workaholic/lazy grandpa, wasn’t sure if I’d wear him out or he’d wear me out half the time, and my crazy loving nana
Sitting here older all I can do is think, I appreciate and will never let fade the memories of all my kid days.
On a sound route map of the ‘70s,
his church-trained tenor voice
verging at times on falsetto
led  hordes of people to go on
holiday to Greece and Spain.
It was romantic, Mediterranean,
a perfect music background to sea,
“The morning sun”, ouzo and sangria.
Beverley, in the play  Abigail’s Party
voiced devotion to Demis Roussos
in her opinion: “He doesn’t sound fat.”
Kaftan-clad flowing black hair:
Demis was called “The Singing Tent”
Such poetry in song will last forever.  
Sing it again Demis.  


“He had a superb voice. He was an
artist, a friend. I hope he is in a better world.”    
Nana Mouskouri.

Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be the one
That shines in me like the morning sun
Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be my spring
My rainbow's end and the song I sing
Take me far beyond imagination
You're my dream come true, my consolation
you'll be my dream
My symphony, my own lover's theme
(Ever and ever forever and ever) my destiny
Will follow you eternally
Take me far beyond imagination
You're my dream come true, my consolation
you'll be the one
That shines in me like the morning sun
(Ever and ever, forever and ever) my destiny
Will follow you eternally

Songwriters: Robert Constandinos / Stylianos Vlavianos
Amya Sep 2018
I hope one day you’re able to see how I feel everyday, I am alone walking down this dark path. My hearts made of glass and it’s shattering, I waited for the day you were ready to fix the connection we never had. I feel like I’m at the bottom of hell I cry everyday in my room wishing you never picked up those pill bottles but you did mom, I prayed every night to have the old you back but now I can’t even look at your pictures without getting angry. When I used to look you in the eyes you always had a blank stare and that’s when I knew you lost yourself, I know the drugs held you captive. Drugs took you from all of us and we needed you, you gave up everything you ever had for those pill bottles how could you momma? At night I think about everything you’re missing in my life, I need you for all of this but you’re gone forever. I lost nana and that lady meant everything to me, she’s also missing out on my life. I feel angry everyday I think of how I could have saved you but the one day I didn’t wake up is the day you died, I feel broken from all the way down from the bottom of my heart I always cry out to you, you won’t be coming back. I want all of this to end but the voices in my head tell me I am going to end up dead, save me before I fall. I love you to pieces I know I must let the anger out I wish I didn’t feel this way, I miss you until we see each other soon.❤️
-Love Amya-
Dennis Willis Aug 2018
No, you didn't!
na nana na na na

[email protected] Dennis Willis
A Slow Heyoka Apr 25
Looking back to when I was born
An understanding wasn't the way
I'd lay there learning the patterns in lights
I was half a world away

When I was 4 I'd escape the house
A few doors down to play
I'd coerce my Nana for corn and kale
I was half a world away

Not once did I ever think
That anyone would make me pay
For running riot all around town
I was half a world away

Oh wow look at that
Say "thank you" they would say
I scratch my head all puzzled like
They were half a world away

Oi, knuckle down
Why won't you do any work today?
All caught up in root negative ones
"You're half a world away!"

A few quick snaps, I was the act
Ready for good old Broadway
I took loads of drugs and sang for some mugs
I was half a world away

I held your hand and kissed you
That dizzy feeling never strayed
I guess that's just the price I pay
For being half the world away

I was sitting right beside you
Saving the world on replay
Halo with my heart, on head
I was half a world away

School was really hard
I'd cut out half the day
Try to explain black holes to you
As I was half a world away

That evening when you left me
I sat and cried and prayed
That you would never hate me
For being half a world away

Instead of brewing darkness
I went and moved astray
I wrapped myself up in you
While I was half a world away

Each breath, each step, each rung
Each hair that turns to grey
I will be always missing you
While I'm half a world away

So you can think it silly
How I carry on my way
And I'll still be there guessing
Why I'm half a world away

Tonight I'll forget to wind my clock
I'll wonder as I lay
And think to myself what it would be like
Just for once...
                                                         ­     ... We weren't half a world away
poem by: A Slow Heyoka
Written on Mar 09, 2018
When the whispers of first love promise
The willow listens.
The taste of silence earth and the old swing creeks
On faded porches, sweet phrases fall like feathers
And the willow listens

The wind smells of honey and leaves
and crickets harmonize in these nights of moonsilver
The nats circling the porch lights
And Moth wings flutter to stay in the beams
And the willow listens

In link-in-log rooms, Nana sets down
Her tea cup and saucer
When she sees the man in the moon
Winks back at her in a blue cheese grin
The willow listens

We all choose sides, right or wrong
In our youth, in the summer heat
The willow was there, bent branches surrounding
And kissing the lawn gently
And listening

Like discarded pine cones rolling over rooftops
We set aside time as easily as pulling
The lace curtains at dawn
And the Robin sings 'see me in the willow'
Still the willow listens
With years in her eyes
@LadyRavenhill 2019
The world once
Stood on the shoulder
Of a giant

One idea
One imagination
One spark of light

Yea Lin was right

Left out of luck that brother
**** that man he shrugs
And Ayn Rand isn't having any of it

Made magic
Out of a colored

Made cash
Out of stories we
Skipped school to beat

No wonder he's
Super cala

Rich right now
Left here to wonder how

The Man
And his smile!

Laugh at me,
Laugh with me
Let's smile and sleep

Close our eyes, get the bleep
Out of this world


Don't drown
Crossing the border
Don't drown

Yeah, we all
Crossed the line

I got no
Red blood, in me
No, not an oz

In fact
I got no blood in me
I pulled my heart out

I'm not a wizard
More a robot
Chasing a blurry face no doubt

And stones been

Breaking my bones
Like S and M it's all I can think
Yeah I'm gre Christian

You words sting like a bee
And I'm the mouse
Your testing

Me like is this
Really real?
No pop quiz,

No lessons
In this horse ****
Call me bojack

I got mama issues
Drowned in my tears
Snowflaking, I'm making a pose

Just so you'll see
Some fine *** in *****-hose
An *** unlike any

You've seen before
Did you get my number yet
*** work, I'm ***** like

Money green
Back then
And now

And slaves still be
Slaving still
Not really real

For you
But still
Terribly real

The only way to stop darkness
Is to light it up
Burn the bridges down, burn them blue
Burn them the **** up

I'm crying
Like the movie
With the old man

And his homie
Yeah I go see Up
To get down with the helium

Speaking so highly
Fire with fire Lee
You spike me down

Blue fire on my tongue
I've got dragon in me
Call me Mulan

Or flame princess
Cause my ancestors are white
Call me Matt Damon

I'm not a savior
Im no Sean White, doing kung fu
At a gun fight

Going to Wakanda
I've got my anakanda
White with spots, she'll hunt me down

Mask on I wrestle
Your mom in a
Wedding gown

The greatest generation
Like a golden
Shower on my face

We all know
It's gotta be
Be real the tape

The cherry
On the ****
Pie served by
Some white guy

But haven't you seen
The movies
The jokes in there somewhere

A stoner like Emma I learned
God is a Freeman
And black as my Africa

Totoro's wheezing
Yeah, I'm a maniac now
Crazy as a cow

Fed me  my own bones
Can you blame that
I'm bad

At being mad, I've gone ******
I'm not a bat I'm hanging
Upside down though

Not Octavius
No Spencer
I got eyes that see through her

Not you though
Too comfy
Too open your eyes and see

You weren't made for greatness
Hypnotized by Lucy's eyes
And buttery lies in a **** pie

Be dying
You'd still
Be there lying

Your *******
Scared of the truth
Like a ******

I know,
I know
I am staring at you

I'm sick
I'm bad,
I know I'm tainted

Painted with a black dot
Like a white girl I wreck ****
Up, only got six rings

Losing my things
I'm such a hot mess
Like that Joe Smith

White like a prophet
Who sells
Fiction for profit

Making fat stack on cash from
Pills that are too hard
To swallow

When weeds are growing
Up on their own
I won't wallow

Caused they used it to enslave them
What the **** white man
You can't save them

He shot the sheriff
And I didn't listen
No not yet I was a kid then

But now I'm
A man

I'm Mowgli
Hear my man

Or an alien
A robot a

Ryan Reynolds got me feeling
Like a dead mon

Too much white in me to be a panther So I'm a penguin

Flap my wings and we all be soaring
I'm a team player, less a Bird,
More a Magic Johnson

I know Malcolm X
Was heaven sent
But I run from the spotlight

I'm not a Warren
Or Trump yet
Just a white guy that can't jump

Like a ****
Not unalike a Harry Reid
I can't play games

With toy soldiers
I ain't no 'bama
Michelle ain't my mama

I ain't Sasha's brotha
Different ****
But ****
Michelle ooh
My blood boils blue
For her

Would be blue if
I was an

Yeah I'd go hard
For her if
I wasn't
So afraid of him

Too much an
Ace to not be waste
For a *******

I was
Poisoned by Ivy
I don't ****
With O'Reilly

Blue on blue
On blue I'm
Seeing a change coming
Kall me Kesha

Witches I feel it in my blood
Now, just like it all went down there
In yorktown

Here beneath
Willow tree
I see her hair

Whipping back and forth
She like her Dada

She got magic
In her ancestry
Clearly I can finally see

Was right
You know

That Prince was fresh
As hell he made
Purple rain

You know that Prince in Hell
Making purple love on a
Purple mattress with a purple stain

Princes of queens
I'm blue as heck
Like a bandana

Worn at the
Banana stand
Where we first made love

My man my
No doubt

I'm cool as a cucumber
Cool as Gwen

With her skirt
Flipped up

You looked
Now I'm looking up

Got you on camera
Now your eating up

I heard
Her *******

She been moaning
Real bad you can hear
Her coming

From anywhere
Not any hair
Justice waxes

She may blind like
Mice but she not
Deaf yet

She breaking walls

Like she in the Good Place
Me I'm in heaven

Ma there
Ain't no chains

On me
Genie in a bottle
Where you listening?

Wow got me
Feeling like
An Apricot

King me
Four seasons

I'm never getting
Out of this

Cheap queen
I ****** up
I'm a hot mess

Mary Poppins
Couldn't save me now
I need my chimneys swept somehow

Haven't seen the new one
I'll be honest with you
Too many colors and I've been

Flying too high
For penguins
And men in sequins

Pour out that
**** honey
On my silver spoon

The ****** won and
I'm eating it now
Too much girl in me not to see the son

Of a *******
On the golden throne

Can't believe
We let him
Get a
Second one

**** THAT

Do something
Say something!

Show me
This isn't
To you

I'm not the
Only one fighting
This war for

Act 1

Flipped the world is upside
Where the hell is

Have you seen her yet?

Dressed down
In that
Little black

All things
Up in fire


Things look like eleven
Seven rings got me
Feeling like
A ferris
Cotton candy,
Nineteen nineties
Suburban and white

Inventing stories
Cause our lives
Were boring

Immigrated too early
And under my own

Twelve years a slave
Three years old
But I'm still kinda

Read too much
Ta-Nehisi Coates
To not want

The skin I wear
White like a lambs
Gives me some

So I use it to the
To fight all this

I'm not a teenage
But babe I'm a dirtbag

Punch me up
Like Rocky

Yeah I was listening

She got my mystiquing
My scales blue like
A blue man

Dancing to the song
You both listened

The summer you
First loved her back

Jesus must be real
Cause I be seeing
You'd never bet!

I never
Seen before
Magic out
A tiny spore

Men behind bars
Piper got me feeling bad
Saw too much of me in them
Now I can't not be sad

But it's complex
You know it's

Too much prophet
In the prison industrial

They get the job done
Been true since

Before World

In progress
Matthew Mar 4
link here

— The End —