my people's music

my people's music,

be jammin

it's sacrilegious in it's form

sin sittin' next to gospel

guitar rocking next to tambourines

humming hymns

on beats of blues

set on strings of jazz

and that piano...well, bang on brotha...

you can hear the porch jive

and liquored lyrics

on high falsettos

and the drums?

well...

go back to Africa

and Brazil

and them islands

pick one

because it's all us

all shades of brown

getting down

with sounds emanating

from a thump off of a circle of souls

dating BC...

"before cd's"

i hit play

and my emotions sway

i weep,

at how deep

music has me

how could it not though?

doesn't it make you wanna lay in it?

bathe in it?

take a deep breath

immerse yourself underneath

the clicks of cymbals

that tick with toe taps

and...

well...

yea...

my people's music

has healing properties

moving through muscles

revving hearts

and purifying minds

a placebo from peabo...

a shot from chaka...

a pill from jill...

a flow from freddie...

and everything is alright.

my people's music...

it's a soul thing.

10 Word Thursday: Perfect Agony

It's 10 Word Thursday again...time for poetry. I decided to do it in the style of a succession of haikus. Just to make it interesting, I suppose. lol

Ms. Bebe gave me these words:


salacious, prototype, fire, bawdy, dandelion, atlas, museum, explosion, tea, petal



a salacious fire
takes up residence in me
the explosion...great

the impetus, him
the fuel, his body perfect
sculpted from dark wood

museum-worthy
far from bawdy and store cheap
...atlas-like and strong

i imagine him
a tasty tea of sweet dreams
dripping onto me

cascading like rain
beading upon my soft petal
me soaking him in

i become spoiled
my prototype paramount
supreme over all

where do i go now?
like a fiend i chase the high
embers of a fire

whisked away like wind
dandelion spores adrift
me...changed forever

10 Word Thursday: The Missing Muse

Back when I was on Multiply.Com, a friend Ms. Bebe used to commission a Ten Word Thursday. She popped up on my wall today on Facebook after months of me not doing this challenge. (Also, timely because though I haven't been writing poetry...I've been wanting to) So here are the 10 words she gave me and the poem I came up with.


10 Words: bemused, judicial, countenance, abyss, adrift, pimpmobile, obedience, enormity, membership, visage

somewhere out on the sea of sonnets

ADRIFT on driftwood

feeling no more good...

my muse,

lies listless

staring up at the stars

wishing for whimsical wisdom

on dying suns

for one...just one line

to buoy out of the ABYSS

its artful assent

rising in OBEDIENCE

aware of how essential

my bard's MEMBERSHIP is.

or maybe,

she lies BEMUSED...

a VISAGE of blankness

that pale COUNTENANCE,

a reflection of the gaping chasm

that's taken resistant residence

all up in my heart...

all through my fingers...

my lips,

a silent dryness

where my golden gift

once dripped with hunger...

i don't know,

perhaps she feels left alone

my time,

meted out between too many loves

or just not enough love for her

and her obstinate stance

is a somewhat JUDICIAL

and heartless eyeing

for allowing her to lie here dying

and leave the both of us crying...

[i'm sorry]

back there...

afar on land

parked ashore

her poetic PIMPMOBILE

sits abandoned,

driven no more...

no music,

no Keys,

no packed bags filled with stanzas and creative acquiesce

just she...

floating in a breeze

in a pool of thought,

i can't seem to seize

somewhere,

too far...for me to write with ease

and though,

i can't swim

i fully intend,

to sing her back to shore

promise to be her whore

if only she'll remember

that i do...love her

temperamental,

neurotic

slightly psychotic

equally hypnotic

dramatic

poetic ass!

finding lines

i gotsta find
some divine lines...
somewhere...
...for somewhere,
deep
deep down
is a reservoir
of dammed lines
squiggly lines
straight lines
jagged lines
wavy lines,
that flow against
my denial
and challenge my idle mind
i know they're there
displaced,
lost in the bustle
raked into the corner
disguised as cinders
but amid the rubble
lie my poetic troubles
and all i wanna do is
gather them up
and splay them neatly...
i gotsta find
some divine lines
silver lines
punch lines
hooks and lines
fine and shined,
gleaming against
my shadowed
self portrait...
distressed and hard
drawn from short pencils
leaving my hands
cramped
and thoughts cluttered...
i gotsta find
some divine lines
amid these here lines
i'm digging
down deep for...
the kinda lines
that climb
and swing
from mind to mind
like zip lines...
i gotsta find
some divine lines
clearly defined...
that leads to a bottom line,
so i can breathe
and recline
... and be blessed that i...
am still able to find
literary gold mines
through rough times
right now...
i'm finding lines.

lost art

i've never felt this helpless
lost to the art
and afar from the center
so estranged from inspiration
...i don't want
every poem to be a non-poem
of poetic pain
a plea to the god of bards
to lift the weight
off of my pen...
i can't tell if it's due
to lack of paramour
or presence of apathy
either way,
i've never been here so long
it just doesn't feel like me

not only are poems stilled
and erotica chilled...
books won't bind
stories won't end
things begin...
and end again against my will
when i see works
of fellow quills
i burn with envy
for my own passions
to be fulfilled
...i can barely read
the scribes of others
while my own muse's heat
is snuffed and smothered

i feel as if this helplessness
can't be helped
...and just when,
i think i've missed it
i shrug with indifference
and nestle comfortably in it
i wallow in silence
i slop in muddled thoughts
an eerie acceptance
of aimlessness and loss

i count the pieces of me
that have broken and been cast away
all of the events remembered
like white noise on repeated play
and i know
that somewhere adrift
are the words
that escaped to be free
traipsing hand in hand
refugees...
overjoyed and over me

maybe they're in Tahiti
on my dream escapade
tanning, swimming and floating
basking in French Polynesian rays
i might be able to locate
a few in the family i never made
or took up with another poet,
spoken words on a stage
it's possible,
they grew wings
and became angels
with "mi abuela"
love
peace
bliss
all fitted with little halos
some stuffed in a box
interlaced around a ring
or maybe they've become lyrics...
waiting for me to sing

i just wish i didn't feel strange
a stranger to it all
i want to find my place again
i want to do it all
i want poetry
and novels
and erotica
and blogs
i want it easy
like it once was
before this overcast of fog
find me...
return to me,
i miss my inner bard
i want words, stanzas and depth again...
i want to find my heart

the look of summer

i feel summer,
in beads of liquid crystal
glimmering
refracting the light of a beaming sun
off the surface of tanned
smooth and soft skin
cool cotton cascading
tied prettily
over exposed shoulders...
slight breezes
teasing the hem of a billowing
sundress...
peeks of thighs
that wink hi on the sly
i feel summer,
in wild, tameless hair
sun-kissed by streaks
of ultra violet rays
given lift by bouncy struts
smiles behind shades
and shades over blinded eyes
from the sun's glare...
the summer,
is seductively hovering over me
invitations of abandon...

a yearning to lie still
while clouds pass over
and gales of wind
lead branches by the limb
in a dance of waving leaves
i feel summer...
in children's chuckles in the morning
robins and cardinals
chirping atop cable lines
bike tires screeching
garden hoses leaking
lawn mowers revving
chains on porch swings squeaking
wading pools filling
hydrants bursting
ice cream melting through fingers
fireflies in jars
and citronella burning
...the anticipation of coals on grills
smoke wafting over fences
sending subliminal cravings
of charred meat and
iced tea so sweet
but, i feel summer most...
in that sundress
in my favorite color
sandals on polished toes
a kweenly flow,
beckoning the turning of heads
to summer's hot ways
bringing heat to bodies
and flush to faces
the free feeling
of a dress' sway
just makes me know
that summer is here.

open book

i've been flipped through

used for my content,

poorly kept

and left to be picked up

read...

and dropped by the next

what's my story?

where's the story in my heart?

how do i know

that anyone has ever understood

me front to back?

why has no one considered,

treasuring my leafs

protecting my spine

reading me again?

...why has my story

been only momentarily piquing...

only once explored?

where's the story in my heart

and do my pages

reflect my depth?

does my memoir

bespeak my soul

and speak a piece...

my peace?

i never wanted to be

a library's keep...

openly shelved

and passed over...

i never wanted to be

borrowed and returned...

i wanted to be discovered

and cherished,

my beholder

afraid to share me,

but willing to recount my

imprinted confessions

with far off eyes

sparkling...

remembering the adventures

of my tale

instead,

i've been left

bare to the exposure of air

aging my words

turning my narrative faded

and shriveled

...but my story was in my heart

plainly penned

to be read

to be loved

to be traversed

with open mind and heart

so,

no matter if my cover is compromised

if my title is smudged

if my bind is broken

and the gild is gone

if i'm never read again

and no one ever remembers my voice

...my story was still written

my story is still here.

i await you

i heart you
i flower you
i cloud you
i space you
i rain you
i cake you
i book you
i lei you
i drizzle you
i butterfly you
i pen you
i write you
i lace you
i drink you
i scent you
i film you
i pour you
i lyric you
i flame you
i mani you
i pedi you
i massage you
i sorbet you
i browse you
i dawn you
i sunrise you
i day you
i sunset you
i night you
i twilight you
i open you
i picture you
i stir you
i house you
i blog you
i fondle you
i poem you
i comb you
i dance you
i shower you
i inhale you
i nap you
i giggle you
i draw you
i fluff you
i dream you
i swim you
i light you
i duvet you
i save you

do i have to say,
that every day
in every way
in every thing
that is beautiful,
significant,
pleasurable,
needed,
given,
felt,
been or will be...
you are there?
the one, i will love...
shower,
cradle,
speak,
stroke,
baby,
see...is already in progress.
...i await you