Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Eternally Missed "To Owen Kulemeka"

If only I had more to say and less to feel. If only this wasn't something hard to get over, if only it wasn't sad and painful
If only it was the easiest thing to do, to pick up and continue, if only in losing, we could forget but we don't. We long more 
For more long conversations, 
Honest debates about trap music 
The new world order, 
We miss more, 
We wish for more, more time, more smiles, a lasting essence, a link, a knowing and not this helplessness. If only one last talk would do
If only that is all we needed. I will miss you Owen, as you fly with the angels, don't forget to look back and smile, don't forget to check on me
Rest in Eternal peace Owen 


A shallow mind and a deep heart can not co-exist 
He rides off lip service 
She toils in dreams of some sort of future
Serpent long and vile 
He coils her in 
Licks her weak 
In disregard of her 
He believes his lust for her is enough 


The land of Horses

I wasn't raised in a land of horses,
No, where I am from 
They did not have the lush for it,
Where I am from 
They did not have the stables 
Not shoes 

I did not grow up looking at mare's 
Nor their fawns not stud's 
No, where I'm from
They do not 
Where I am from 
That is a dream 

A dream watched on my master's television 
As my father cooked his food 
Big eyes and thrilled 
Weary of the car horn 
And accents I hoped to have 
Hoped that the private school he paid for 
Would give, hope

I didn't grow up in a land of plenty 
No, where I am from 
They didn't have savannah's nor waterfalls 
We did not have hundreds of cattle 
Nor did we mine for diamonds 
My father, for all his worth
Sold me ideas and objectivity 
As he fawned at the delicious injustice 
His salary, he fawned 
The white man he would say 
They know where it's at
Shining the glistening Peugeot 
A super class vehicle made from far off revolutions 
I did not understand 

No, where I am from 
Hair was that on my head 
Theirs was theirs!
No, no additions, no extensions 
My father would growl 
Bemused, I knew he knew nothing of beauty 
Hair cuts and plainness 
He would demand
Plain, I was

In awe, I would sit in an expanse,
The wide screen in that living room 
Gored by its luxury 
Telling me stories of places 
Too far to be true 
Of tea cups and sandwiches 
Of big hats and charming gentlemen 
Men with white accents 
Clean men with clean nails 
Soft hands with delicate ways 
Not like my father 
I would wander in those long corridors 
Silently praying for fortune 
To lay me waste 

But I was born in the land of asses
The work horse of the bunch 
Asses, where the birth right was third in line 
Asses, where we entertain,
Full of teeth, big breasts and hearty laughs 
Where home brewed beer pours 
And young men's dreams 
Flood the drains of petrol stations 
They have no where else to go 

A place where strife trends 
People compare worries as a fashion 
Money floats 
And my masters generous education 
I can not find work!

Discredited by my ass folk, my kin 
For my ovaries do not deliver 
Nor does my certificate catch the man 
Nor does the man want the education 

He spills his seed mind less 
He refuses to reap all his done 
Blames the system for his failings 
As he expects to be called King 

Where I am from, we do not gallop 
We walk strides 
We are hurled from country to country 
Exist in lasting gap years 
Wiping bottoms 
Crown ourselves with superficial pride 
Here the tool is different 
I am different 

I am not my father's daughter 
Nor the tear of my mother's rib 
I am an ass, the beautiful ass with big eyes
Slouched by the border 
Silently waiting for the shout 
The whip, a way to go 
or do I just follow? 


Sylvie.... A toast to friends

When you swim in a sea of nervous systems, a polarity of personalities, unbalanced decisions, emotional throes, and hidden motives. When they tell you left is right to console your foe, they call a friend and it's no different. In distrust we trust, yet so covetous to that which is trifle, funny how labels change things. When light switches flip, just as they do, a questioned psyche, so lost in their act that you can not believe in your own. Own?! Yes, you are your own! Deflections made by others reflections, mirror what is not in you, their flaws are not yours..... Thank God for God. In You we trust!

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Obrigado por ser meu amor

When you love a fool
Summer finds you sleeping in winter
So tied up in slumber 
The universe swiftly shifts
The ropes break 
And the heat burns 
Down into your limbs
Rubbery you become 
Glued to the bed by 
Trails of salty yelps
Quietly missing the fool
As he prances around 
Multicolored as a strobe light 
Thrusting before yours eyes
His eyes jiggle and his tongue rolls 
Another behind he throbs
While the foolish lie
Deluded by whispers
On lines no one can witness
When you love a fool
You turn to ash
As he rises 

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Reading Flyers 5/6/2012

I demand,
Not ask,
I seek,
Yet, denied all that I find.

I am not small,
Neither fragile nor coy,
I am in the front line,
Feral protecting mine,
I demand,
Not ask,
Only because I am mistaken,
For lack of a better term…

Varied genes lost in translation?
Is it nurture vs. nature?
That I blame your mother,
Villain you have become,
The father of diverse seeds planted,
Embedded with psychosocial issues,
Only you could control,
I demand, yet, for them I have to ask;
To make peace between us

I demand you stay in my bed;
Stop wandering aimlessly in others,
In other people’s homes,
You chase the thrill of getting caught,
Or is it drinking from the fountain of youth you seek?
A whisper said, ‘to rejuvenate your waning ‘love’
    Your mind evokes pointed breasts,
As mine wave at my oblong valley below,
You stray,
No, I demand and not ask,
That you do by me what you vowed,
I expect no less.

I demand and not ask,
As my mother drags us through,
Another one of your riots,
That you lay your hands off her,
I do not want to see,
As my mother conceals pain with powder;
That my uncle’s and cousin’s,
Do not find me prey,
That the senseless street vendors do not take my rebellion;
As a sign of vulnerability,
That they undress me publicly,
Shame me,
For I am proud, of who I represent

I demand and not ask
Not to be traditionally mutilated or socially labeled,
For what is natural to me;
My hair, my skin, my ass, my teeth; am I single?
My education is not my pitfall,
Why would you make one feel so?
And yet you bask in your accolades!
I demand you know,
That we are all prototypes,
Get over your ego!

I demand that you do not marginalize me,
With sugar coated policies,
Sat comfortably in conference chairs amongst your kind,
Chuckling at jokes about that strong headed woman,
I am, I own it!
Are you aware of who you are?

I demand not ask
That you take interest
Listen and do not judge.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Something and Nothing

You and I have something good, it's something that I hold on to, something that I can count on and rely, it's something that has value. 

I have no flowery words to make you think of spring nor the flare to sit with goddesses. Nor as a wanderer do I want you to follow, nor change your course.
 I do,
I do want to watch you rise, magnify your every leap, catch the sunshine on your face and maybe one day I could make you smile, one day I would not have to wait. 

Mostly, I wonder,
if your past is so overwhelming that the present is on the side lines waiting to be noticed?
I wonder if you will ever be as happy with me as I am with you? 

Yet, there are so many shoulders, so many chapters that you look over.
So many things that are loosely knotted that in essence this latch, I have, will always be on hold.