"reposeful" poems
I would that I could clasp hands, at once, with every diasporic man
And our hands could merge and rise up as a single fist
And all the subjective shades of our own colors and the
Daze of our own druthers would be shed in the process
Yes, I find that I absorb the pain around me like a fine osmosis
That unifies the minds forged in our generation’s social suffering
And I wish my skin would grow akin and reflect a synthesis
Because there is no bliss when men bisect people into “us” and “them”
I would that I could turn my insides out and transform my ***
Organs, as a moth does surge inside a closeted cocoon
Only to emerge with wings and the power of new found flight
And I wonder if I too could sing the perspective of new heights
Because there is only ******* in a world where those who
Share the same ****** shape cannot share the same heart
Are condemned to be kept apart by taboos viewed through institution
Started by confused men, afraid to admit that making love is a free art
I would that I could push my hand into the ground and grow
Roots that drive deep, past the sand, beyond the rending flesh
Of our loved ones’ bodies and mesh with the immortal earth
As if I could bolster, with my chemical composite, the site of true birth
Because when the mightiest of the world’s glories can be
Bought and sold for the price of arbitrary ******* figures
Written in the blood of forests, in the torn face of mountains
Then we can stop ignoring the forlorn thought of dark days before us
I would that I could bring back all those lost before their time
That a rhyme could sting the cold cheeks of slaves who never
Saw a western sunrise comprised of multicolor, of many brothers
That I could brush softly the minds of couples buried not together
And scream to them that time left some bereft of victories
Yet to shape their scene, yet to substantiate their dreams
Then I would quickly reseal the doors of slumber that guard
The restless dreamers of the past before revealing the
Horrors of societies stepping once forward, then twice back
Yes, before the haunting words of hateful choruses should
Ever shape their reposeful, moral-less, and peaceful sleep
For the hopeful eyes of soulful passing activists should never weep.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
Simple lazy lounging one
who places silk aside
your strands of supple moonlight
with beauty do abide.
In patient rest you sniffle
not having much to suffer
and in this state of reposeful peace
your sleepy gaze is no rougher.
With candid manifest of tranquil stillness
those locks of ghostly pearl and sheen
straight cascading on your form
these glowing threads possess a gleam.
El pelo rubia
durante el dia
el sol esta brillante
en tu cabeza todos las dias.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
A feeling
so ecstatic
so joyful
so memorable
and nostalgic.
A reposeful warmth,
draped like a blanket,
ove the slick black ice,
encrusted on my soul.
A Polarity
unstable.
The sun might be yanked from my face
at
any
second.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
I delight in listening to the wind.
It’s so content and subtle, yet, so destructive.
Much like love, the way it slowly strings us along with bad intentions.
So reposeful we fall for each other and so maleficently we fall apart.
Too often we love things that aren’t any good for us.
We let emotions manipulate us.
Victimizing us into an impractical mindset,
Where we are convinced that love is permanent and nothing hurts.
But, love is a bizarre thing, much like the wind.
They both exist to eventually tear things apart,
Whether being our homes or our hearts.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
There is hope in sadness
Because honesty
And not falsehood
Along with true emotion
Opens its door to comfort you
Because it will receive you
And offer its blessings
To mingle with your own
On a winding road
Of love
You see my daughter
And her smile for my heart
In this I know
The hope that we long for
Is sprouting in the next generation
As we who have lived
And search for our youth
And for something new
Remain in reposeful wait
To live on
In the knowing
Of where we have been
And where we will go
But for me
It is the very feeling of loss
That offers dignity
And quiet assurance
That regardless of my tears
Life will go on
And a little girl
Will be the one who will make you happy
So take her hand
And look past my troubles
And see yourself through her eyes
As she asks you
To show her what you know
And what you love
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC