Poetry & Prose
Fought to escape my own existence
I drifted in the void of empty promises
Left my soul in the catacombs of my mind
My heart aches
It breaks and breaks
My thoughts run at the speed of light
My head hurts from pure fright
If history repeats itself then the story of conquering Hernan Cortes is on the shelf while pol, Joe Crowley‘s hunkering down. She’d said she wouldn’t back the candidate if she should entertain defeat, but campaigned like a potentate, as capable as she seemed sweet.
7pm in April
and i hate everything
I remember when we woke together in the ancient streets of Spain
I remember I felt a strong shiver which could heal any pain
when the fantastic windows whispered in my ears " hello "
I couldn't dare to reply
I thought that voice came from my fellow
so I began to spy
You can see/feel/experience this work by LaMont Hamilton at The Drawing Center in SoHo.
How do you tread on a Tiger’s tail ?
Baby.. we are jealous, her exciting voice and outcry
Gave us new understandings for sharp color, real color
"Heylo hello hey hi hiya my love"
I had a Brother once
And maybe I lost him
In Hallways of your Soul
XYK repeating, replicating the shattered bits of his refracted nullity, the shadow of his elemental hatred sombresaulting up from the endless slurry of his hatchery, where he fluffs the nearly hairless balls of his projective fantasies, cross breeds a sickly effluent with it's cousins, lies and slander, takes the broken offspring of this noxious union and remates it
As an African child
I crawled on mama arm
Searching for an imaginary house
Which bear me with a fancy view
Of the coming clouds upon my head
She was made of water
And in and out of water
Wanting, wishing, withering
What would it be like to edit down
a poem into its brittle bones
down to the last ash
on a burning log
down to thin veins
on a frozen leaf
twigs on an icy night
shivering in the dark gray
solstice sky
down to breath
or the last
kiss
before sleep?
red rays of the unknown sun came down to my new window
warmly shiver touched me, made me laugh as a fresh baby
I decided to think about the source of these unknown rays
but, suddenly a kind of musical sound covered my ears
the sound did not seem like any earthen sound I ever heard
it was a mix of waves dancers and creation of colorful bird
it was like a smell of honey and the secrets of gold
I want to carry in my womb
The bodies of the dead women
Killed by the dictatorship
My womb
Full of old pictures with their serrated sides
Full of vaporous language
Full of gardens in child’s mind
My womb will grow like a giant piñata
So full of communists
And you'll fear them all
for J.D. Rage
I pick up a Xeroxed flyer
for a show by someone I know slightly.
Her photo shows her in leather, chains, sunglasses,
with a mass of black hair.
And I think, This is where
I want to take a woman for a date.
Allen Ginsberg, I have worn you on my back
in cafe's, on the flatlands, in a threesome
with a half-stranger, whose pregnant pause stretched out
across the microcosmic corn flake of America's crooked twaddle,
your fellatious weight wigged on the temporary
intonation seeker
information wrecker
restless, mindless, corpseless beggar
hopeless ender
formless bender
broken token, bone winger
terror fire’er
chaperone shaker
calamity master, baits occupy hater
Let’s face it
Nothing is cruelty free
Especially when that bitch on Facebook
Piped up and replied
“This reply to your reply is cruelty free!”
I see you Sistar
I can hear your mockingbird tales take off
As quick as my daughter’s father could get
Himself committed.
City fun in the distance
in the still humid air
with some light moisture
left from the morning.
I'm your worst nightmare.
I'm leading the life you were dreaming of before you settled.
I'm living the dream you buried when realizing it could come true.
The dream you fear so much.
The one you never could stand in reality.
The one you’re still fascinated by in your hidden chamber.
It was not a secret that Professor Bai Hua favored our gang of four students over others in the class. On the night of the Lantern Festival, as arranged, Bai Hua waited for us near the bike racks. A dark gloom had overtaken the chilly winter air. “Shall we go to Fuzimiao? I want to show you a flavor of the local Nanjing culture,” he said.
In the southwestern part of the city, Bai Hua bought us each a paper lantern strung on a stick. I lit my lantern, and it glowed a brilliant red. Anya and Bai Hua each had pink ones. When she smiled gleefully, Bai Hua looked at her. My heart twinged, as if I’d developed a small crush.
When I was about 12 years old, there was this other black girl selling freshly squeezed lemonade in my neighborhood. She was selling each cup for $1. My dad gave me some money and told me to buy 2 cups of lemonade from her. So I did (even though I wasn’t thirsty, wasn’t particularly fond of any drink aside from water, and it was also rare to see my dad drink lemonade). But I did it. I went up to her stand and bought 2 cups.
Yesterday, I woke up in good spirits. I had an interview Downtown that I was feeling pretty good about. It was a corporate interview so I did my best to dress corporate. Black slacks. Button up. Navy blue tie and a gold tie clip. Nothing fancy.
An egg yoke
A dollop of white sugar
A broken scissor blade
Double palm strips
Coconut oil
I stare at painted ceilings, I stare at parting clouds
Confined to thoughts of interchanging forms
Your skin and cheeks when you walked through my elementary school doors
Determined to not let sickness stop you
Warrior goddess—Mother
That’s what I’ll do
I will live! I will love
I will live for her
It stung that day
to overhear a woman complaining
about a fat bellied pig
to another in the park
as I walked by
It will never appear
in the retro candy store
among 5th Avenue bars