Trial by Fury

They changed his name

And mine on that day

Slavery to racial profiling

To justice for some.

Eric Garner to Dead

Homicide to Suicide 

Systematic Racism due to 

A Consequential Qualification.

“I can’t breathe”

Unless you conceive 

I’m not a danger

In this hood.

These garments 

These streets

Are they one and the same?

Now I’m under cardiac arrest

With the duty to remain

Silent, every ounce of eumelanin

Will be used 

Against me.

Cuz you’ll take two seconds

To shoot my child

And use nineteen bullets to slaughter

My brother.

Self defense against

A toy gun and a wallet. 

I’ll get a casket and you’ll get

Modified duty.

I’ll make the “mistake” of running

For my life

And you’ll get target practice

In broad daylight.

What if I never 

Put my hands in my pockets?

If I never wore certain clothes?

If I laid down before you got to me?

“Sir, why did you shoot me?”

I don’t know.

What if I borrowed your gun

You could just hand it to me

Put a shot in my head

Keep this the land of the free.

In the home of the slave

“He looks like a bad dude.”

I know their talking about me

But they should be talking about you.

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4.1. What Are You Fighting For??

Dear Girl
What are you fighting for
Not fame nor recognition
Just a touch of ambition
And the will to move on
Promote the next bloke
Quickly realize the dream is
Gone.

Dear Girl
What are you fighting for
Not love or affection
Just the lack of rejection
And the promise of tomorrow
A dream she’s willing to
Follow.

Dear Girl
What are you fighting for
Just a life worth living
A heart worth giving
A reason to breathe each day
A fraction of hope
Instead of being a joke
A joy that will actually stay.

Dear Girl
What are you fighting for?

3.1. I Write…

Because the ink is my air

And the words are my breaths.

Because it hurts to stifle the gypsies that dance in the catacombs of this mind.

Because the thirst is vampiric

Primal and raw.

Because nothing is so delicate as the clacking of keys

Stroking of pens

Slide of paper

Visions of a visionary

The bird that soars within me

Free to speak and preach and be

Free

To give and tell and share and project

Images onto the wall

Because they are real

Each character and place

The plot has happened within me

The souls linger

Begging to be recognized

Acknowledged .

Forget the rest. This is not about poetics but the dream within the dream that runs from a brutal reality of living nightmares.

This is my ladder out of the dark hole. This is my rope of redemption. Pulling myself from the grave I was shoved into from the womb.

Because of a family tree that has rotted and withered in the darkness of secrets.

Because I want to be more than a dealer, a player, a con, a liar, a manipulator, a thief, a criminal, a user, an abuser.

Because these words are the seeds to plant new trees.

Of shade and fruit

That will bare the souls of stories and stories of souls.

Because my son will NEVER go to sleep hungry.

Because my son will NEVER know the shame of monopoly money.

Because my son will NEVER hide in a school bathroom, stifling his own cries within a stall as the remnants of their words bloom into scars upon the fleshy self-esteem they devour.

Because my son will NEVER will never be asked to be a part of the con so tomorrow can be easier. And I still wonder if those debilitating migraines stem from her wicked demands of bashing a broken piece of wall against my adolescent skull because “you’ve got to make it believable so we can sue.”

Because my son will NEVER curl his toes to fit into a shoe two sizes too small while I live lavishly.

Because it is my job to use what I know, those voices, those stories, that pain, and the creative juices that flow through my veins like the blood that trickles from their lips to make something beautiful.

To keep a promise that his tomorrow will be the rainbow to all of my yesterdays.

Because the pain of my past is worth the glory of his future.

Because I will make this life count.

Because I will build the foundation of his greatness.

Because he will NEVER know those types of tears.

My hands slam against the keys with purpose.

With conviction.

Because my hands will do for him what no hands have ever done for me.

I write…

Because I have to.

2.36. Rain

She will skim the surface

With blades of grass

To deliver the aqueous formula

Slow like honey

Heavy in hue

Trickling,

Drizzling,

Glistening,

Steady,

Pouring,

Clotting into hail

Her wrists are open

As cumulus clouds deliver surrender

A torrent of life

Laid to rest on the tiles of a bathroom floor.

2.33. He Kissed Me

And I felt like putty

Like the sky at 7:53am on a Tuesday while Bob Marley played in someones car…”No woman no cry.”

Like an empty bottle of creamy baby oil left atop an unused counter…waiting

Like a cool bottle of wine, uncorked but owned

Like a valley unpaved by mankind.

He kissed me 

And I felt like an orgasmic tigress

An unleashed heathen

A closeted slut

A pornographic master

A willing submissive

An intrigued Dom

Waiting Prey

The hungry predator.

He kissed me 

And floodgates opened

Unfaked

Unprecedented

Untouchable

Unknown

Unsure

Unleashed

Lips to lips

Exhales

Lips to throat

Inhales

Palms to palms pressed, fiercely, against cold brick

Lips to chest

Whimpers

Dreaming

Pleading

He kissed me

With every intent of staying

And fleeing

Gasping for more

My oxygen in his lungs

My everything in his hands

My world in his words

Anywhere

Anytime

He kissed me

And I was something else

Someone else

A vixen

A kitten

A little bit of both

A culmination of what shouldn’t be and what had to be

Lips to stomach

Staring at the back of eyelids

Familiarizing scents and tastes

Tongues sway

Linger

Hover

Lips to inner thigh

He kissed me 

And I watched him beg

To feel pretty lips

Below the hips

For one thrust

One drink

One…

One…

One…

2.32. We Are An Angry People

We are an angry people

Overpowered by the necessity to grow with the propensity to thrash in oceans of muck we created. Erratic manifestations overflowing from pores of the poor onto the feet of oblivious caricatures strolling through the scene.

I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead…

But very much alive in thought and ideas. Continuously moving and flowing, contaminating the sparkling water that caresses the tips of lips and coagulates before the throat has any idea dysfunction has seeped in and claimed a home.

A sanction in this new body, this new place…where we can be any fucking thing we want to be. Taught to morph and manipulate through the cracks until you believe we are everything and nothing you want us to be.

Quiet and easily unseen; we are those shadows. Domineering and self assured; easily played and often easily assumed. Smart enough to enter a circle of false prophets and million dollar penguins…done without a second thought. Dumb enough so you’ll reveal your secrets to semi-deaf, but not really, ears…always.

We are an angry people.

But quietly waiting for our moment

Mutiny

When chains will be launched and blood will be shed. When tears will cleanse away oceans of blood. Yours and yours again. So giving…the foolish tend to be.

We are an angry people.

Lost in the memories of who we were. Who we thought we should have been and who we can’t seem to explain. BUT we fight. We fight on, no matter the personal anguish, because we are cold. We will turn off switches and lash them against your back in the same notion. Not two breaths or two beats will pass in hesitation because we can give the pain we know all too well.

We laugh when they cry and sulk and crumble. Because we have lived that life. We have seen that road. Fuck, we paved it. We know the feeling…

Mother, where did you go?

Father, why did you go?

Liars and thieves sculpted from first occupancy…created as soldiers to enable, to secure, to pawn, to prostitute, to manipulate, to convey, to sway, to torture, to shatter…………………………..

We are an angry fucking people.

Tired of broken promises. Lies upon lies upon lies upon…silk bed sheets where more false promises are molded, pushed, prodded, molested, raped, skinned, burned, pressed, slapped, punched, shunned, scoured, dragged, beaten, bruised, hung to dry until the next time.

We recall the baggage, the pain of yesteryear because it’s simpler, more familiar, than your smiles and whimsical moments.

Your happiness scares us. Terrifies us. Instills the deepest, truest sense of fear in us.

We are an angry people. Hoping to get out of the darkness, hoping to taste life for the first time before it’s over.

But trembling with fear at the prospect.

2.27. Chambers

The simplicity of knowing skin is tiring…boring…undesirable. 

The complexity of knowing a mind is foreign and quickly weighing on a stone heart. 

A mix between hopelessness and hopeful prayers.

For something that will prove everything she ever believed to be wrong. 

For a glimmer.

A spark.

An ember. 

But fire cannot live and thrive from stone. 

From the cold caverns of a heart forgotten. 

2.17. The Purpose of A Life

Fingers across the sky

Ten paintbrushes designed to nurture dreams.

Fingers digging in the dirt

Ten shovels to clear your path…

The path to get you there.

Kiss the wind and taste the air

in which aspirations bloom from seedlings of hope.

A mother is your river.

One that flows for you, ethereal child.

This heart of mine is yours.

I breathe, solely, for you.

2.8. Quotes

Some are mine and some are borrowed. All are true.

It is of wasted body and breath to want to fix the world. It is with great respect I look to those who walk off the beaten path because it is never easy.

I am here not to validate or condemn a soul. The life I’ve chosen for my time here is mine alone and the only one that is my business. You take care of yours and I’ll take care of mine.

It is the human condition to love and want to be loved, it is the human curse to hurt others and to be hurt. We judge one another relentlessly yet wish not to be judged, a never ending cycle that shall bring us to our end.

Please don’t ask me about someone elses feelings, opinions, judgements, actions, etc etc as I am only one person and therefore I can only answer fully and without bias, for myself.

On that note, don’t ask me why I do what I do. If I thought it important enough to discuss, I would have by now. I do EVERYTHING for a reason, I just don’t feel the need to consult with ANYONE.
That is all.

“We must see all scars as beauty…take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.” – Excerpt from Little Bee by Chris Cleave.

If my mind doesn’t intimidate you, my mouth probably will, not for the faint of heart.

“Like uncharted territory, I must seem greatly intriguing…you’re not allowed, you’re uninvited.”

“I only care about the words that flutter from your mind. They are the only thing you truly own. The only thing I will remember you by. I will not fall in love with your bones and skin. I will not fall in love with the places you’ve been. I will not fall in love with anything but the words that flutter from your extraordinary mind.” – Andre Jordan

You must never shout at the concrete
You must always shout at the stars
Concrete cant hear you.

“Words need not endorse the obvious.”
AE2

I love life and the strange people in it. No two alike, eccentric and chaotic, mellow and mysterious, everyone is a story waiting to be read and Im the avid reader. I am continuously enthralled by the wonders these people show me, teach me, allow me to see, blessed to learn more about our universe everyday from the living stars amongst us. Don’t be afraid to know these people, to care about these people, to love these people. It is the divine gift we have been given which makes us human. Enjoy.

“To enter the mystery of timelessness is to enter the sanctuary of the here, where we are given a chance at every moment to begin our lives again. Not one of us is perfect, and sorrows press upon us all. But, the universe is a merciful one, in which unlimited opportunities for new beginnings are built into the very essence of things.”

Let us take our head out of the clouds and into the light. Dwelling on fears of loneliness only creates loneliness, rage begets rage, and chasing a dream only makes it run faster away.
“I know my destination, I’m just not there…”
YET

I always say something wrong
I always speak right when the thought hits me
I always offend at least one person in the room
I always talk too loud, too long, too fast
I always make people >.< o.O or =O
I always second guess the last 5 things I just did
I always do them anyway
I always share how I’m feeling, even if its ugly
I always fuck up
I always say I’m sorry
I always mean it
I always fall
I always get back up
I always want to win
I always lose
I always dream the impossible dreams
I always come back to reality
I always live in the past
I always want to be in the future
I always forget the present is the gift
I always care…even when I don’t.

It’s not what you say but what you mean
It’s not what you give but what you hold back
It’s not who you were but who you are
It’s not who you are but who you’ll be
It’s not what you do but why you do it
It’s not why you care but when you show it
It’s not what you know but what you don’t.

1%
That’s exactly how much of me you know. Judge that 1% Label that 1% Hate that 1% because not even blood knows the 99. It’s all in my head, all in my heart, all in my soul and you aren’t welcome there. These are the places you can never molest, never dictate, never contaminate. This belongs to me. *Locks the door and throws away the key*

You are full of fatuity…and so I forsake you.

“The writings easy, it’s the living that is sometimes difficult.” – Charles Bukowski

Dont play dead before you have to.” – Wally Lamb – The Hour I First Believed –

Sometimes, we sacrifice who we are for who we think we should be, who others will accept us as. In seeing friends/family/strangers battle this, in seeing myself battle this, I know nothing is greater then having self. Flawed; work on it…but don’t lose you. I wont. This is my face in my mirror, and I’m alright with seeing me.

“We’re always looking in the wrong direction. We ponder the stars while burning the earth, the bullet we’re running from is almost never the one that hits us.”

2.6. Those Eyes

It was the sadness in your eyes, the moment I felt a breaking in my heart, realizing you cared far more than I’d assumed.

It was the cracking in your voice, the moment you struggled to say nothing was wrong, realizing you had so much to say and no way of saying it.

It was the way you averted your eyes, the moment you were willing to walk away in silence, realizing this pained you more than you’d ever let on.

It was the way you quieted your tears, the moment you told me a thousand things, realizing the switch stayed on for you.

It was the way I yearned to hold you, the moment I wanted to comfort your wounds and raise you up, realizing I cared more than I’d imagined.