Thursday, April 30, 2015

28/30 Culturati

what it must be like
to come from nothing
to come from leaving
to come from arriving
to come from I belong here
that must be real nice
real nice

27/30 Simulacrum - a slight unreal superficial likeness

those times we finish each others sentences
I think, this is a good thing, the way we can think
along the same lines draw the same conclusions
in all our yellow and purple

we move, awkward dancers, to a beat we created
without talking we move and the world diassapears 
we are all that exists and we waste nothing
especially the silences

I tell you I love you and your skin changes
becomes cold to the touch so afraid of
wanting the same things I want because maybe you
want it more I can see it in the crooked of you smile

these days we dance not with but around each other
questioning everything so different from yesterday
when our hearts tapped out the same shudder steps
in sync

26/30 Veridical

if we are to believe that the things we
hear are truer than the things we see
we have not evolved in all the ways we think
my eyes are my truest barometers they detect
the truth in seeing is believing
but this world has lost sight of vision
we are now to see and not believe the truth it's toungue
in our mouths begging for validation
if only there was such a thing as opend mouthed
honesty, just say what the thing is
own the bullets and the beatings
strike your chest say it was what you intended
say you are afraid 
say, you can't imagine a people so beat down
would never respond the same way you do
say, you don't trust that if they had the chance
they wouldn't sell you away from you family
wouldn't serve you blankets full of disease
wouldn't shoot you in the back
wouldn't starve your people, walk them off cliffs
say, you don't believe they wouldn't take
the land you stole back
mark you immigrant
demand you show your papers
demand you take your lady liberty and leave
say, you don't believe in middle passage promises
say, you don't believe they won't retaliate
your fear isn't really the people you stole from
in the form of land, life and freedom
your fear is that they are as inherently evil as you
have always been
and you can't imagine that they wouldn't 
do the same to you

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

25/30 Maudlin

another black man committed suicide 
today well it was accidentally on purpose
his back broken surrounded by blue
but he did it to himself isn't that the way 
it happens always every 28 minutes
in America those magic hued thugs
those escape artists the way they shoot 
themselves in the faces while hands cuffed 
behind their backs not smoke and mirrors but
some other kind of magic they try to convince
us don't exist the cameras roll
they so magic we don't believe our eyes
we have so many question like
why they be breaking their own backs
why they be shooting themselves in the back
never once but multiple
why your wallets look like guns
why is it that after you're shot dead
you still gotta be handcuffed
how do you hold your breath so long 
you can no longer breath
we saw the video just don't believe our eyes
so good those officers hugged you
goodbye who needs evidence
when you live in a land surrounded
by all that blue

24/30 Cacophonous

the smell of burning covers everything
including the truth and terror of it all
our hands heavy with regret tremble
tambourine a sound that hurts our ears

we are listening for a change that never 
seems to arrive our feet to busy running
in circles we are dizzy with media spin
false truths dressed in a blue the color of bullets

most days the privilege is so loud 
it drowns out everything darker
than the weight of white causes our
teeth to hurt from all the artificial

we wear the noise around our necks
boots with traction hold us in place
threats of protection shake us from our skin
and the noise of it all leaves us deaf and staggering

Friday, April 24, 2015

23/30 Rules

it is 2015 and I am still setting
boundaries that should be understood
explaining how I am no object
not here for your admiration or touch
I am not an extension of your greedy hands

my hands should have never left the
safety of my side fingers clinched
refusing to be produce am I ripe enough yet
the hands should have never raised to
shove you away I gave up pugilism years ago

the only living witness the cashier and the 
hair growing from my head the bouquet of flowers 
drooped when my hands gave in 
the clock on the wall confused that this is still happening 
do we still live in a time where people are inspected like cattle

her name was Regina red script on a badge
attached to her heart she never wanted to see this
never wanted to share her frown pretended your
white privilege had nothing to do with the freedom
of your hands on my black body
here eyes say I would never do anything like that
though she is doing it by holding her tongue
weighing if I'm worth her fucking tip

the stale smell of your breath on my face
as you tell me how pretty my hair is
because how could I know if you didn't say
the taste of violation as I suck my teeth
consider for a moment slapping the tongue from your mouth
the sight and feel of hands, not mine roaming my body
the sound of colonization

only I know why I sequestered my inner pugilist
my attempt to avoid jail time and hash-tags
I remind my children they are bigger than that
don't lower yourself to the levels of others
but defend yourself if you are attacked
your hands on my body without my 
permission is an attack

I keep this knowledge in my palms
the last time I lifted my hands to push 
another person away next time my words will
singe more than the aftermath of parchment
thirsty to fill you with the knowledge
to keep your damn hands to yourself

Monday, April 20, 2015

22/30 On Art #2 (found collaboration with educators)

I dream a dream where every child of every hue
picks up a pen or perhaps a paint brush to
create a world where fear does not exist.
Inspire the next generation to think outside the box.

Nourishing the soul, an important form
of self-expression, feeling good and lifting spirits.
Truth and beauty – the biggest of pictures.
The arts are real dreams that become imagination.

An understanding of the importance of Art in their
Everyday lives. All kids; all the time.
To broaden a child’s horizon, open a whole new world,
free to experience joy with open minds.

Education is the key to unlock the artist inside of every
child. Watch the world change through their eyes.
Removing limits allowing dreams to live out loud
Free to chase their expression and connect with the world.

21/30 On Art #1 (found collaboration with educators)

to open the minds of children,
that they may open their spirits
dance to act out feelings and emotions,
while exploring their edge
vital vittles, those nourishing sounds,
sights, movements, songs,
without these flourishes life
feels desolate and stifled
unleash the freedom to allow what makes you
a hook where you can hang your emotions
inspired to think beyond the analytical
inviting the element of whimsy to your day to day
deepening experiences, breeding creativity
wrapped in courage our vision balanced
by diversity and beauty
as necessary as food or water
the arts energize and engage
art as a creative outlet

art as life

Saturday, April 18, 2015

20/30 Bunkum

throat cleared podium addressed
he touts the treasure beneath his tongue
promised all that can be noted 
return to sender 
pay due upon reciept
move along nothing to see here
what rights
you don't need no stinking rights
nothing but love for you and your ilk
vote for me you'll see
how well I can spin for you
in and out of control
up and down the topics
gimmie that baby
I got a kiss for it

19/30 Grubstake

the years of preperation
the struggle and pull of emotions
allowing forward movement
we came here by accident
telling tales of a trip we took
that neither of us remembers
not for lack of trying rather
it hurts too much to stare
this kind of dissappointment
in the face

I promise you this if you would
just leave, pack your shadow and go
I will grubstake you this resentment
wrapped in the lace you stole from 
your ex lover's coffin

18/30 Schlemiel

I've never felt so clueless
so out of luck the way it
never seems to go the way 
I think it should
no happiliy ever after no
silver linings to destract me
from the fact that you have
the amazing ability to make 
me feel stupid whenever you are near

maybe it's not a feeling 
maybe it's the truth 
and maybe this is my cue to depart
before the mean girl in you shows her face
and I forget for a minute that I don't
punch people anymore and forget
for a minute and forgot

I am always attracted to things and people
that cause more pain than joy never
really sure of what's happening
navigating niceties and lies
mine fields where they don't need to be
like we don't need to be

but I'm always a handy placeholder
the person you pretend with until
you can pretend with someone 
who overlooks the things you know
I can see, and I stay sometimes
refusing to believe I've held
someone so shallow in my mouth

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

17/30 Argot

sitting behind a desk
arranging figures that will not
increase your holdings
clocking time on things you hate
washing away in all the monotany
you don't want to be here and can't leave at the same time
hair on fire for something different for a change 
something exciting 
something that can hold your attention

i once thought this was my passion
this 9-5 this note and mortgage
but I am just living to pay things off
things I have no time to enjoy
things that remind me of debt
and all that I am missing

Monday, April 13, 2015

16/30 derringer-do

So, it will end the way it began 
full of confusion guts and guns 
a people attempting to survive 
while others hunt them down 
in the wildreness they call home 
tears spent 
no change 
fear festering in secret 
only to out themselves 
become bigger prey 
a party we were never invited to 
this way of men and their games 
play reguardless of the consequences 
blanks or live fire 
the only thing that matters 
is winning all day everyday 
if infiltrated turn inwards 
hold yourself hostage 
ransom note your own obituary 
photoshop your own tombstone 
create a new club in the afterlife

15/30 Ode to My Hands ( Teen Slam Prompt)

on the days when my hands feel to light for my body
fingers fluttering remembering a time when they were wings
could catch the wind push away from the earth
get closer to the sky that birthed me
holding church with the clouds listening to 
the songs played by nature's choir bird song
and lightly falling rain

or the times when I feel so angry
that my hands my fly away betray my
latent pugilistic ways causing pain
in a physical way an action I no longer believe in
I believe in the love in my palms
no matter how much this world begs me to fight back

sometimes they dangle wanting to be raised in protest
fisted punching the sky chanting freedom songs
and holding hands with others who believe in the same 
justice if only for a little while
they are my favorite part of me these hands
so when I take them out on the town I dress them up in shine
seven rings for ten fingers not because I neglect the other three
but because it's just the right shine

Sunday, April 12, 2015

14/30 Caseous

the shape of your mouth 
always open always moving
so hungry for the thing you want most
who pays to live a lie?
a walking contridiction
a fast forward lie

when making cheese
make sure that the ingredients are fresh
don't mix your truthes and falsehoods together
you don't want their tastes easily identified
don't want to be found out before you are ready
make sure the burn is slow

when you are finished with your masterpiece
the tasting can begin the mixture
spread over every surface
so when tasted every imperfection
is perfect every nuance unclear
follow it with spiked wine
and let the critics know
this is what you wanted it to be

Saturday, April 11, 2015

13/30 PEMDAS

sloping scapula
skin all right angles
an algorithm of fingers stroking
a pebble clit
centrifugal force of thighs
across the moonbow of your ribs
accelerated heartbeat 
gravitational pull of eyes
glaciers of venom flowing through veins
a sweep of spine
making me math the orgasams add up
please excuse my damn accute stimulation
or not

12/30 Breaking Old Habits

The past stares back wide eyed
dares me to move forward
dares me to change my blues to gold
my squares to diamonds in the sky
the past his yellow hands his fake tears
push at the tender places buried in my chest
makes mines of memories
expects me to blow my chances

now he's mad afraid I'll find my pulse
afraid I'll start showing uo pn my own reflection
never seen me this strong before
so complete and willing to cut ties
he tried to feed me chaos and stagnation
tried to convince me my anger was misplaced
and a sign of weakness
didn't think I'd scrape myself off dingy walls
stand in my own green and grow

I told him you should not be here
you are what happened already take your prize
and get the fuck on
because this girl has new floors
she's walking back straight these days
the only thing straight about her
she's got shyt to do with people 
who are about doing new shyt 
and he need to stay in his place
behind her

Friday, April 10, 2015

11/30 Polyglot

you tell me you love me
and I hear it with my entire face
feel it between my teeth
you love me
that's what you said and I believe

the language new to my tongue accepts
wants to be accepted I hang on your word
like laundry on a line clip rooted
swaying in the spring breeze

until I realize that what you 
are not saying is what I should be
listening to, how I am not a part 
of the parts that mean more than
fleeting, more than maybe one day

the fool in me recognizes the misstep
remembers doing this before
remembers how much it hurt
all the time

Thursday, April 9, 2015

10/30 Brume

the air is heavy today
so full of contidictions
and disconnected thought
I try my best to rise from it
to refuse the fog desperate to conceal 
the things we wish we could unsee
knowing the danger in that
we sit rooted to the spot
watching our right to life
dwindle with every trigger pull

if the air was more brume
maybe we wouldn't see the blue line
they cross as they claim victory
legal thug runners holding 
starter pistols aimed
not at the sky but at the
invisible visible targets painted
on our chests
our backs
our heads

I remember a time when 
officer friendly was more clear 
when he showed up in class
for career day taking a bite out
of crime these days he is more
officer questionable
like do I call when I need help
only to be chalk outline after you arrive

I knew a black boy once
who when asked what 
he wanted to be when he grew up
stood tall and proud said
officer of the law standing at attention
these days, though he never
thought it would be his career 
all he wants to be when he grows up
and the fog lifts
is alive

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

9/30 Dysphemism

you change your tone but the message is clear
you take issue with my being 

as an act of rebellion
how dare me continue to live my life by my terms

there is an absence so accustomed to you not being there
when you actually show there is no room big enough

to disappear you back to non existent, to daydream
or nightmare fantasy you wear on me like concrete shoes

a size to small and the wrong color

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

8/30 Badinage


my pick up line was unrehearsed
a sad attempt to win your smile
the furrow of your brow made me think 
I fucked up, misjudged your interest
but you were just thinking

I love a woman who thinks

the slow drag of your eyes on my frame
measuring me made my shirt tight
my body liked your body back
my clumsy line your face a round glow
my favorite smile decorates your face
I win


our rivers find new banks to rest by fall
our love a different thing we know the winds
will blow us in each others path again
each time the first time
you get all of my twisted jokes
and I love the way you growl in frustration
our kisses linger over everything
we are no strangers to the strange that is us
on any given Wednesday
your smile still a balm
and my favorite place to visit

7/30 Diddle

the idea that you are still out there
snatching rugs disquised as future from children
who should have been warned
and parents who should have researched
figured out why you are so cheap
that anything at that price is not worth it 
take their babies to some place real
instead of a place where those
who saw it in its prime 
throw tears like tantrums at the sight of the place
that kept them full on words and wisdom
turned third world question mark
their childhoods tainted in a forward kind of way
they vow never to return

when profit at any price
became you mantra we knew
it was over tried to warn the others
but there will always be someone out there
desperate enought to believe the lie
you dress up like last decades best kept secret
reciepts left on so it can be returned
they will never get what they need here
but then again 
you get what you pay for

Monday, April 6, 2015

6/30 Panopoly

the curtains match nothing in the room
they hang limp and disinterested
closed mouthed and full of remorse
blind to the implications

this room so dark holds more than memory
a showplace, a stage where we perform
the self-hate programed so deep in some
the need to share overwhelms

I read a statement that suggests black women
boycott a music man because the woman he loves
is not black enough for him
but she is black enough to judge based on her color

this room in this world that tells black women
we are not enough, too dark to be taken seriously
we recycle the brown bag test history says we've failed
to tell our sisters they are not dark enough for someone else

so much irony, so many bodies discounted
yet you, create new rules around every corner
and dictionary are to cumbersome to use
to find the definition of this level of ignorance

where should we hang the signs, black woman
the signs that read not dark enough for this fountain
where will we offer the shade test for the right brown or black
will it be the same color as these ugly ass curtains

in the background of this story is a man some man 
with a women he chose while some other woman 
decides that their love could not be as black 
as her love for a man she will never know

like this room doesn't hold a history of not enough
walls we have tried to scale for centuries
no more back of the bus we have turned our skill
to throwing our sisters under them

the first lady says black girls rock 
while white women insert themselve in something
that is not about them and you fix your mouth
to insinuate that some black is too light to rock

this ugly room so dark that no shade of black 
can be identified just black we all black women here just black
what are you using as litmus how many levels of hate
are you trying to escavate and am I the next to not be black enough

maybe these curtains do match something in this room

Saturday, April 4, 2015

5/30 Oology

pollen covers everything
refusing to give up the throne that is my porch
I wipe the yellow dust from the table surface
wash my hands so as not to rub the dust in my eyes
a spring habit as nature spews her love all over
my eyes catch sight of our porch dweller
the bird who thrice tried to build her nest 
above our door rests, nest-less 
on the ledge of a column above the grill

she is not there every night
only when weather threatens to happen
tonight the clouds with their dark temper
stomp across a starless sky
there is a pang of guilt in the moment
but it passes quickly
I know the nature of mothers
know that if she had built her nest 
in that location when the eggs hatched 
we would not be able to pass without attack
protecting home and hearth is what most mothers do

I do not believe she is haunting me
she is not Poe's raven quoting the same word
over and over in an attempt to rid me of my sanity
but I wonder, if my removal of her attempts
to create a home for her one day eggs robbed her
of a family then I wonder if it's the males who build the nest
and I have mis-gendered this bird as well as
leaving it homeless

there are so many trees nearby
wouldn't trees be better real estate 
for winged ones to occupy 
isn't that where birds should build
not on a porch over the grill that will soon bellow smoke
and the sizzle of meat 

Friday, April 3, 2015

4/30 Ummm...

and I could even when I know I should not
hold that thing in the palm of my hands make 
it do what it do
I could, but I won't 
there are limits to my debauchery

and even though I could I won't 
knowing that this is a possibility
sends me time warping to the time
when that was exactally what I would do
no second guessing
just go and gone

there is a lesson some where in all this
some do the right thing because it's the right thing
or you know better do better antidote
I hear it all
know the person I am
know that I will always do the right thing
thinking about the thing that may not be right
is always a thing that makes me smile
when no one is looking

3/30 Fabular

the way I heard it
she walked right in
no she didn't walk 
she kind of sauntered
rolling her hips in that way
or maybe she strolled 
like she could care less
but you could tell she cared a lot
anyway she walk, sauntered, strolled in
like she owned the place or at least her space in that place

I tell you I ain't never seen nobody
walk, saunter stroll in the way she did
not a care in the world and her rolling hips
in that place

then she stood pefrectly still
ok she moved a little 
but she was still in that way
you knew something was going to happen 
and it could be scary 
but you wanted to see
she stood perfectly stlill 
and looked at everybody 
like they owed her money
and they best be ready to pay up

I tell you I ain't never seen nobody
walk, saunter stroll in the way she did
not a care in the world, her rolling hips
all still and moving like that
pay me my money

then she made eye contact with this woman
she was a beautiful woman 
she kinda blushed
just in her eyes when she looked at her 
the way she looked
then she did that walk again all saunter and stroll
and hips
she walked right up on the beautiful one 
and smiled
showing no teeth 
but we saw them all

then she walked, sauntered, strolled right up to her
to the beautiful one 
like they knew each other
but not really 
you could tell
I mean there was chemistry 
but it kinda bounced around the room
got on everybody 
but they didn't notice
it was like being somewhere 
you shouldn't be
but we were all there and we saw everything
maybe we shouldn't have
then she, the woman, 
plunged her hand into her chest
just stuck it in there, 
it was magic and there was no blood
but her hand kinda disappeared into her body
and she just pulled it out
pulled it right out
she pulled her heart right out
and handed it, her heart, to the beautiful one 
it was normal

like people just walk, saunter stroll
not a care in the world hips rolling
still but moving all smile no teeth
eye contact and chemistry bouncing around the room
plunging her hand in her chest 
and giving it to a beautiful woman 
like it was normal
and magic

she just said three word
just three
she looked the beautiful woman 
in the eyes 
and said
this is yours
she said it just like that
this is yours
only three words
and she gave it to her
just handed it over
just gave this beautiful woman
three words and her heart

and the beautiful girl she smile
she smiled and said
thank you
I never saw no shit like that before

2/30 Funambulist

There are days when the distance seems close
the ground so near a fall would merely lean in 
to kiss your mouth and all the doubt it holds
when walikng the line is a decision made
after long deliberation each step considered 
before removing the net so sure you will not
need it's protection

when staying close to home is the only
thing you know

until comfort confines
arms banded resticting movement 
when safe and coward change names
and you crave what you cannot touch 
what you can only see when you scale 
the walls you've built around yourself
keeping the world out
and you out of the world

you remember walking on air once
the rush of adrenaline 
the belief that you owned this
no more fear just death defying faith
the way you lit up a room because you could

and then that thing happened
the thing you want to name
but doing so gives it a life of it's own
and you may not recognize your reflection
so you become mason
began builing yourself away
from all reflective surfaces
afraid to look at your own light
your smile gone tremble

in another life
you wore confidence with a flourish
cape around your shoulder
your feather like steps so sure 
as you walked out floated on the air
never looking back or down
no need for a net
not caring how far the fall

Thursday, April 2, 2015

1/30 Choose

there are mornings when I can't decide
whether coffee or whiskey is the right choice
they stare steaming daring me to choose wrong
coffee always wins

she wants me to make a decision
one that may mean losing her touch
an unfair choice for a damaged heart to make
one that only beats normal when she's around

I choose wine tonight imagine it elixir
a potion that will calm the panic in me
soothe my wounds while leaving
me open for interpretation

I don't know how to love in increments
I tend to leap before looking landing on
my heart every time

I believe this body was born to love you
it was never given a choice