Posts for 2020 (page 100)

Everyone experiences love at one point or another,
Everyone makes the mistake of loving the wrong person,
Love is a part of being human,
It’s what gives us our humanity,
We can love multiple people,
We can only be capable of loving only one,
Love is something that makes life truly worth living,
Finding it in someone else will lead to heartbreak,
It’ll cause a pain that never fades,
That never heals,
Find love in yourself,
Love who you are first,
Then maybe the person you truly love will come back,
Or the person destined for you will make themselves known

After so many sad souls
died alone in hospitals
with Covid-19
Thought I’d get my affairs
in order
After all am at high risk
to get the Rona

My girls live out of state
No kin in Kentucky
Wanted to ease the load
of handling things for them.
Had to handle my mom’s
my brother-in-law and my 
husband’s estates.
It’s no easy task when you’re
grieving so bad
Wanted to lighten the load.
Sent them both detailed emails.
Got-no response…
They didn’t want to Even…

i count her breaths sometimes
to slow my own. her belly
a hot air balloon, rising slowly.
these days i forget how to talk.
i notice a shifting eye
in each person i meet,
how their pupils laze out
at the sides, two blind lakes.
yes, i say, i did the laundry. yes
i will refill the soap
in the bathroom. yes i know
i’ve gone on another long walk–
i was never headed anywhere
but in a circle. yes,
i’ve laid down to dream again.
my cat– so quick to tense,
to hiss, curl her long claws,
now rolls over in her sleep,
her eyes squeezed shut. sometimes,
her paws begin to twitch, like she’s
running towards something
only she can see.

r u just going 2 stand there,
& do nothing?
       no, eyem OK just alright.
             just roll up yr sleeves, pull
             yr g_d-dam sef up!
him?! he’s jus—a—friend.
          (oh, her?  she’s jus—a—friend.)
u!  can u just go away or stop?!

      when weir(d) married, wud u, wud u 
stay with me (theanswerisno) nomatterwhat?
         will this ever/end?
                will.an.answer.come?
will we/make ends meet?
       will eye ever/sleep with someone(?)
        again, (again—)
will she (?) come back 2me?

what if oseyeda bin sober?
      what if eyed-a-succeeded?
            what if nun of dis matterd?
                  what if ev’rything matterd?
            what if they won’t miss me?
       what if eye f*ck it up?

                   why?

    hope is a rope I can’t have.

anyway, i prefer wading

never learned to swim
taught myself to sink

dont mind drowning
not here, not now…
i flotsam in good glory

free will floats down
to the bottom of love

wishing we had met &
made time making babies

instead spittle dabs
the open palm & dries
in the creases of a life line
until time passes 
(cold molasses)

lips drop shadow
& poem drops a dime

so i raise up from shallow
waters / sir, knows
devoid of cogitation:

this side of grass
was always green.

Saltwater wind licks wooden box and if left to sit mold does grow. Fine.

Vinegar makes a fine mold cleaner in a pinch.

Crushed eggshells make great powder to draw circles of protections. Yes!

As spirits fade mix extra shells into the soil.

Shelves may fall and books may pour onto your head. Sorry.

Fix the shelf grab a book start a new chapter.

Perhaps your lash glue may fail, your lashes may fall. Sike!

Bat your lashes. Clean the wooden box.

sometimes the mess seems irreversible 
until your friends show up and just start vacuuming 
and cleaning the baseboards
and pouring drinks 

finding kindness in the dark little corners 
and getting drunk on your floor 

I wanted to cry

when I watched the interview

where LeVar Burton says

he taught his son

to place both hands

outside the window

touching the car

when the police

pull him over.

I hate to think about

a figure I love

being judged by

the color of his skin,

being treated as less than,

being in danger.

That’s LeVar!

If it can happen to him,

it can happen to anyone,

any of my black friends,

any person of color.

It drove that home to me.

The death of Philando Castile

gutted me.

He was a truly innocent man.

(I know, it shouldn’t matter.)

It became the clearest, most undeniable

incident of police brutality.

Philando was an everyman.

I fell in love with him

through the stories

that came out about him

in the days after his death.

I mourned for him.

He made me want to become a better person.

I’m finally working on that,

tending to seeds that were planted

years ago.

Joe comes to work
lamenting
about his place in the world.
Earnest eyes
seeking solace
as he regales us with stories
of when he was an alcoholic
“Oh yeah, I’m happier now,”
he says,
as he talks about his wife
he doesn’t sleep with anymore
and the son that moved home
because he can’t keep a job.
Hyper focused gazes
as he talks about work.
Repeating the same phrases,
hoping for a different response.
Camaraderie,
a connection,
something
that offers even a portion
of the comfort he used to find
at the bottom of a fifth of
Jack.

aw, you needed some lovin’
he said to me before
tasting my lips, again
my head facing upward
pressed against the warmth
of his chest

after our departure
the gut-wrenching remorse
settled like a stone
tossed into the creek
a sickening punishment
for loving

he squeezed my thigh
a playful search for muscle
and tingles coursed down my legs
a considerate embrace
a gentle, passionate touch

years of embedded teaching
that two men kissing
led you straight to
the flaming depths of hell
resurface
and a final destination
is fearfully settled upon

is this your natural hair color?
i nodded and our lips joined again
he played with my hair
and i with his
before our hands joined
and we kissed again

my love shouldn’t be a curse
yet it felt like that fate
was decided long ago
i’m ashamed of this guilt
but hate can run so deep
it becomes you
mocks your loving

i pushed past this hurt
this guilt
this hate
and kissed
believing what i know:

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels,
but have not love,
I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
And if I have prophetic powers,
and understand all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains,
but have not love, I am nothing.
If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body
to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast;
it is not arrogant or rude. It does not
insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;
it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with
the truth. Love bears all things,
believes all things, hopes all things,
endures all things. Love never ends.