waking up to gray hair
what the fuck is there to say
when there’s smoke in your eyes
and mouth
in your throat
and your lungs
pawing through the cloud trying to decipher
what parts are snuck tobacco
and which aren’t
what the fuck is there to say
when there’s smoke in your eyes
and mouth
in your throat
and your lungs
pawing through the cloud trying to decipher
what parts are snuck tobacco
and which aren’t
I only let you see
a glimpse of who
I really am. You notice
a marble statue carefully
carved and polished.
But that’s not me;
though I aim for perfection,
I fall far short. I never
allow you to see the rusty
tin can filled with holes
and dents. That’s me.
I am flawed, bruised,
damaged. Do you see
my soul, or just a facade?
relinquish
set aside on a rainy night
all of it
the known and the not
until a larger portion
evades
only then will I let go
stupidly
since I have my own choices to make
surrender
wrap up in a figurative bow
what will be, might already
accept uncertainty
indefinitely
Oh death you had come
to carry my mother home
but you came too soon
There was a request
She wanted to be baptized
Is it now too late?
With her hand in mine
you came gently as a friend
and took pain away
Tears welled in my eyes
and fell upon her sweet cheek
as pure liquid love
Her life now complete
when baptized with holy tears
went to be with God
The birdsong quiets
tap tap tap turns to drumming
all of the sudden it’s pouring the rain
My memory’s eye sees my mother run outside
brown hair tamed in a bright red bandana
flipping clothespins like a champ
She calls back, “Mind the stove.”
My twelve-year-old eyes watch from the window
as she battles against the rain
Tonight I hear the rain
I turn off CNN
I smell the clothes
On a blank piece of paper,
I’ve never known when I am finished.
These sentences.
This word salad.
Do they add up to more than what’s on the page?
I never can tell.
But add some intersecting lines
Just. Merely.
Some. Some.
Columns. Rows.
And suddenly all the puzzle pieces fall right into place.
On a spreadsheet,
It’s always clear when I am done.
When the whole = the SUM of its parts.
But is that true?
Or is it just because,
I haven’t tried to say anything more?
No justice no peace
But they all got a piece
Strapped to the teeth
And they’ll bust it at a man just tryna help people eat
-Body Bagdhad
one muhfuqua It’s like a jungle outside It makes me wonder why I aint raining thunder
two muhfuquas (spark notes for everytime a cop touches the trigger)
2020 blind
a blindfolded night clutching dual hammers
Clapping. no. more like a bakers dozen of hot rounds
of applause only whyte folk here
they said it sounded like hot lead sizzling
through rain drops before digging into a chest.
I asked the old heads and they said all.
they heard niggas screaming and pigs laughing
but nobody saw a thing
three muhfuquas (meanwhile in a building somewhere) they sit back sipping cotton gin and tonics watching fox news in the breakroom between takes of taking a knee on truth could be a metaphor for something. but maybe I’m faking.
4our ever hear of a bully wake up one morning and see the light? I haven’t. they usually don’t listen until they have them lights turned off
disconnected. no longer in service. no longer in service. no longer.
