Saturday, November 26, 2011

coffee black, no sugar

coffee and thoughts
jelly and tears
buttered memories
breakfast alone...slow and painful bites

melancholy set...
timed not to sulk to a crisp
watching tv...or it's watching me
can't tell at all

hoped to share a cup once
kisses and sips
making a memory or two and you

guess i'll sip and think
nosh and sniffle
forget what went wrong
watch TV alone

doze and wake obliviously
try and write
my pen looming over paper
threatening to compose...i suppose

cold coffee
stiff spoon
cold morning
it's past noon
and all i can think...
against the spoon's clink
was that you were once here
and the coffee was brewing
the scent was inviting
my longing for morning love
gone with the steam off my cup
i ain't hungry,
you're eating elsewhere
and i'm stuck
with a cup of coffee... sugar.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

breaking up with heartbreak

i should
be used to heartbreak by now...
my invisible friend
needing my full attention
unwilling to share me
with Love's affectionate promise
stalking me...
peeking into my windows
pained by the smile in my eyes
thinking of ways
to interrupt the scene
hating it's not "him"
wishing there wasn't anyone
BUT him...
why wont heartbreak
give me space?
accept that
we're incompatible
and that i lose myself
when he embraces me,
swallowing me in the
dark swill of emotions...
i cringe at his touch
and shrink under his glare
this will NOT work!
can be so selfish
disregarding of my time
can be controlling
needing downright
to my soul
he invades my space
alienates me from my friends
pits me against Love
with whispers
of instigating lies
distorted for the perverse pleasure....
of stopping my heart
and insinuating we're a couple
lying to my suitors
that i am taken...
i need heartbreak,
to understand
i am love
i cannot b r e a t h e
without it...
Love and i WILL marry
and no amount
of histrionics
and flagrant dramatics
will cease what is divinely mine
Love wants to wrap me
in eternity,
reflect  me
in the very image,
that is His...
encircle me with more
than my earthly mind
and spiritual heart
could dare forge
in a dream or a vision
it is over heartbreak,
"you were never good for me...
i was never good for you..."
'til we meet again...
let's not.

Monday, November 21, 2011


the unfocused focus
of the desperate need
to focus on something
other than self
is a crafty effort
to deflect from
what one lacks introspectively
attempting projection
onto external entities
to seek their validity

never is so much focus
required to fulfill
a myriad of needs
not already embodied
by self
than with someone
unwilling to peer within
and mend the inner fractures
not revealed
even to themselves

as long as the energy
...that precious life source
uniquely bestowed
to one soul...
is being dispersed
and left behind
in jagged pieces
to temporarily satiate
and medicate
the aches of loneliness
and fleshly needs
you can never be whole...
no lover will EVER hold you...
no kiss will lovingly linger...
you will never be king to "her"...

the exhaustion alone
will topple your throne...
when the bodies are gone
and the sensation has numbed
what is left
is what at best
can be described...
as YOU...
still blurry
from the scurries of distraction
leaving you listless
from emotional inaction

[focus] on that....

Sunday, November 20, 2011

ms. truth

truth is smoooove chillin'...
she's sitting,
backbone aligned with the sky
eyes crystal clear
with a deliberate stare...
she sees them...
the manipulations
and side dissin'
all trying to mask as her
but can't bask in her...
just ask her.
she's naked
free of cover
no shame in her name
confrontational at times
at times,
simply part of the art's frame...
there isn't anything she fears
she couldn't face
all UP in her DNA
to be the realest one in the place
don't make her up
talk her up
she needs no co-signers
no crafty one-liners...
when everyone
and everything
melts away
flakes off like gold fill
ms. truth struts in
wearing Karma's heels...
she doesn't boast
or begin to trip,
she doesn't get emotional
or skittish...
she sits down,
crosses her legs
and speaks...
and when she does
the drama begins to cease...
the wake calms
and becomes placidly still
while ms. truth
bends the room to her will
and as they absorb
the consciousness
and perfection
she stands for
ms. truth...
badder than a beautiful lie
the idea of it
"what had happened"
or imitation of life...
you may want to get to know her
and everything that AIN'T her
just respect her gangsta...

Tuesday, November 15, 2011


i'm walking...
a remembered path of passion
lit with faint pitches of woo
...long kisses between two
i recall,
the puppy love
that grew full on canines
before it was through
once a splendid escape
of whispered winks
and finger traces...
the phantom caresses
of his young tongue
across new bosoms
growing pangs
the broken seal
of a deflowering
took on the face of shame
denial dressed formally
as a concern for viewing eyes...
before long...
the feeling of love
had withered away
the petals of naivete
drifting on the cold winds
of chilled heat...

i recall,
the may-december love
of a grip too tight...
a toxic drink,
of brute strength and spite
once believed,
to be the one
enduring and pure
but left me needing more
how chivalrous he was,
protective and gallant...
even though
his sword was often drawn
without cause
and paranoia grew taller
with claws...
and my heart would thump
then pause...
every time
he entered
the room
when the end tip-toed toward us
i can remember exhaling
heaving sighs
of grief-filled tears
a caged bird
afraid of flight...

i recall,
the intangible love
of echoed beats
and cemented feet
love reverberating past cell lines
that never manifested past his lines
my northern chill
to his southern heat...
"first...time, i saw your face
my heart just erased
every guy
fore you..."
and instantly
my poetry was conceived
to be lyrics,
to his musical keys
and i became,
he had a flock of fans
and he himself
was a fan of ladies
him singing in their ear,
his intentions
wearing winged shoes
tapping on heart strings
the notes became muted
the pen dried
and we waved bye...

i am recalling,
the love
the falling...
the bawling
the crawling
for forgiveness
second chances
and best wishes...
the ones,
that weren't the one
the tender flavor
of new love
the hunger for
fulfilled and hopeful days
that never came
...all i want to call to my heart
is love,
that lasts beyond the novelty
that casts out frivolity
and small things
given power
to be mountainous
i want to call to me...
the spirit of oneness
with one particular one
with whom i can
recall and
reminisce and
retell the tale of love
with over and over...
i don't want to recall another thing...
except maybe...the beginning of a lifelong love

in the butterfly net...

i ink...i flow...i pen,
my soul, my words, my zen