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JS CARIE Feb 21
My recollect is of the each,
The Two
And within the Two
One is the One

Holding and using our lead and ink utensils
as if they are weapons for winning at Love,
and reasoning for our written duel

Expressing desires the voice would customarily sever into dissection

Permitting authority to the crafted scripts *******  
and may it’s barrier lay
over the possibility of a broken and scattered tongues communicate
Giving our internal intent its day
the way hoped it would speak

Expecting the requited, the return
was a pesticide over wide horizon,
Where the organic surprise of rainfall kept us neutral and thankful

And apart,
our minds maintained with
and of our other

With no need for philosophical proofs only the inner felt proof

Of forwarding shards of sentiment
with compiled assurance
and a dispatched formula
the best way we could phrase

Alongside images
that came in and held tight
in sectors tucked away and reserved from the cherished
to this day are still to be amazed

Spontaneous placement of universally synchronized jewels and stones
Of not have to have
[Only the simplified, pushed down and planted fact]
Of want her to have
So when away,
You feel a personal, singled-out
appraisal of praise
For anyone who you think of when they’re away
Nekron Feb 27
Love lost and love lept from balconies
And steps between stoop and pavement and before the floor the thought of becoming better. If only I could dissemble each twine of thought balled in knots to
The next which led to me the spring forth and become the grass,
soil ground from bones and the wood once engrained with beautiful carvings of deer upon a mountside reaching low for morsels
Balconies break but baked what to reach for, what handrail can come so cruel as to pry each finger?

I leave myself and my body with it, I giggle as friends joke about getting high off whippets, I’ve singled out the thoughts which creep. No longer notions of flagellation, each word a bare reminder of fragility to this foundation
of mindfulness.
Johnny walker Nov 2018
Living dyslexia caused
so many problems all
my school days In the
times that I grew up no
one really recognised
or even knew what
dyslexia was

Always singled out to
be seen as being thick
and made a mockery of
even writing poems I have
keep checking mostly for
missed words or spelling
mistake

Even using spell checkers
grammar the words I
write don't seem right
been going back over some
of the  poems, I've found
so many mistakes

But tried to correct them
best I could, living with
dyslexia is so hard when
words don't look right
even with a spell checker
make writing so much
harder
Pains of my school day having dyslexia
being told your thick
Butch Decatoria Nov 2018
(For Black History Month 1998)


i have a wish
to be profound...
   to be proud and stronger
   and carry myself like the **** poets on Def Jam
voices of Kenya and kings, emblazoned
with wisdom, respected / permanence
tanned in words of Malcolm & Martin's reign...
   to have passions of Nubian queens
   wear a crown to herald my approach
head held high
   without raising a calloused hand,
   copper polished hearts
A presence that only demands simplistic
of silences in the awe, the inspired
unchallenged in my reverence--an African / American ability
   choreography / invention
   the first to dance, when others fear to
to keep it real and say it loud
my human wishes, strong, profound, proud...
sometimes
   gentille...

i wanna be black...
like King Cobra, a hood to umbrella fright
with venom from just my stereotypical sight
   immobilize and paint caucasians whiter
   to be well endowed yet humbly
complicated,
angry but with proven reasons unrequited,
to be singled out by mere appearance
alone, a Halley Berry poster, child - dealing drugs,
   respected yet in the poetry of chains
   creative even in these multi-colored pains
from a thousand lands of strife
music is sister, artistic is brother life
become ingenious
   saxophones in the moody blues,
   athlete of hurtles, jazz / boxing fights / sang...
gold medals, worthy for full frontal
news...

do i amuse you, with these longings?
think do you - it's a cursed delight?
   but life only
   excels with each challenge: our battles
against ignorance / shame defines
the worth we're given
our lot mostly restricted, our lions tamed
perseveres - tho' weep the dust of our ancients names,
and bleeds these,
our cotton soft truths some mistakes
   and Dolby stereotypes revealed
   re-assigned
now worn like brand new:
a garden painted stronger
roots - and robes of shackles' / thorns
sharp with unlocked prejudices
   brown can do no more (for you sir)
   criminal confidences find the unmoving wave of faith
a prominent jaw-line, obelisk-lips
kiss and smack / wet with loving lengths
it is ... no hurt in these earthen eyes
   evident
   stoic, strength, serenity
mine to dance and sing my apathy instead...
about the history, i wish to dis
yes, re-avow
empty empathies before,
   experience my thousands, marching
   Melato’s at the founding fathers' doors, will show
you how to open house
these ghettos of / our violent villages / of tar & soot
shadow our poor ever the more
our stars shine on
   broadway be our stage / Stomps / in the heart, hopes,
   styles rap / songs to battle racial profiles
racial cops in devil blue,
beating brothas, home video tell our news,
while our rich forget the rest
******* **** in their cribs
re-pimped, yes, ******* new money & *****
   of course, they are the talented ...
   almost gods on Apollo / knock on wood...
the music is still
the song still is
the foot is stampeding
the noise will be loud,

i will be proud
i will be profound
   in this time of redefinition,
i will be strong
(i wanna be black) like Etta James
at last...

— The End —