Posted in DiscoverWP, poetry

Wordless

I am penless and
inkless
so the parched parchment becomes
a crumpled mass on the floor
no words emit from me
I am as empty
as a Saharan desert flower
bloomless without rain

The words are gone
life has left a
world seen and frozen
in my mind
because I am penless
inkless and
wordless
a crumpled mass on the floor
forever more
because from me
the words are gone
and without them
I am dead

Posted in Daily Prompt, DiscoverWP, poetry

Wanted

Met him once
outside a corner store
leaning against the wall
Skittles and pop
Funyuns and slushies
Walkman head bobbing to the beat
bad news boy
faded from too much light
he in darkness
shinning like
a beacon guiding be in
bad news boy
with a crooked smile
looking at me
skipping my heartbeat
bad news boy
from around the way
notorious for
making the girls
cry after making the girls
smile
beautiful brown boys
with the bedroom eyes

Notorious

Posted in Daily Prompt, DiscoverWP, poetry

And you thought you knew

Those words
to that song that makes
you rock in your seat
and stomp your feet
is as fake
as these twig
wearing Sour Patch
hip hop name taggers
today
dribbling monosyllabic
one-dimensional words that don’t
touch a De La’s
Soul ring
ring
ring
because eye know
the real sound
of music that keeps passing
me by on the far
side of this random hopeless
hip hopelessness
because the real sound
is runnin’
laps around this fake hip hop
arresting music of any development
and none of these
every day people know
the ten
I see when I look
at Bonita thanking
the tribe for putting her on
a quest
to find some real hip hop
made me glad to listen to the
things that
You can kick it to
chlling because today was a good day
and you’re cool like that and digging planets
reminiscing to when you were
totally conscious of your style thanks to your teachers
listening to the children’s stories
so slick, smooth and
completely fresh
how it was all about just having fun
about trying to let young mc’s know how
to busta move
the good times that left
you feeling like you were a part
of the greatness

when can we get back to the
golden age
of hip hop?

Farce

Posted in Daily Prompt, DiscoverWP, poetry

On the Edge

White-knuckled one hand holding tight
on the edge
of everything that I have
ever known
excited to be here
face-first into the unknown
fearing and loving
the possibility of my unknown
with the dying
sunset behind me
in shades of golden
blushes and honeys
white-knuckled one hand thrust in the air
on the edge
of everything that I will
ever know in your
gracious warmth of
love and encouragement
makes my aura glow
golden blushes and honeys
the known knows it is the end of one
and the beginning of another
so I face forward
one hand grasping tight
the other raised in praise
shrouded by the golden
blushes and honeys
of one day ending
breathlessly in the
sureness and
of this moment
I wait
for the dawning of
the new day beginning
breathlessly in the
uncertainty of this moment
I am on the edge

Precipice

Posted in Daily Prompt, DiscoverWP, poetry

Nikki Giovanni and me

Anxiety ransomed me
because of Nikki Giovanni

I got a book
once
black girl, nappy-headed and shy
unsure of my identity
feeling like society’s mistress
conveniently in the dark
but pleasing

so, I got a book
a poetry book
full of Nikki Giovanni’s
poems,
no scratch that
full of Nikki Giovanni’s
soul,
and I fell in love
with the
softness of those words slammed on the page
holding thoughts down
heaviness of these words floating off the page
lifting my thoughts
with the
vulnerability of her words swaggering around in my mind
introducing me to
the beauty of Black women
the power of Black minds
Nikki Giovanni ransomed me
with the sui juris intimacy of a kindred spirit’s
words unrestrained by any one
and I spontaneously combusted
from the fire of the blazes
that she wrote because
no man could edit the voracity
of her voice

I felt that with my
fist pumping in the air
I felt that with my
hip swaying to the beat
I felt that with my
tears training down my cheeks
because I felt my black sovereignty
conscious and released
I became word bougie
and literally loaded
no more anxiety or fear
of being seen and heard

I now ransom words
because of the great Nikki Giovanni
Qualm

Posted in Daily Prompt, DiscoverWP, poetry

We’re Making Music

Mezzo-piano.
Night-soft lullabies,
bed-time lyrics
We’re making
music
chambered instrument
soft, sexy, jazzy
deep mellow sounds of the clarinet
breathing harmony in me
Ellington’s sound
that penetrates and I
taste the notes
Making liquid music,
so intoxicating
That I drink music like sweet hot rum.

I want to be the instrument.
Something mellow,
a bass
Tickling rhythms in me.
Tracing the notes of my song.
Strumming deep sounds that reverberate,
Making repetitive music,
so stimulating
it engraves music like soul hieroglyphs.

I want to be the melody.
silky,
recording the sounds of
the song in me.
Hearing the notes
humming lyrical sounds that flow,
making love music,
so gratifying
That you sweat musical notes like rain drops.
As you play the melody
over
and over
again.
Night-soft lullabies,
bed-time lyrics
We’re making music
Your lyrics are within me
Reverberating,
Crescendo.
Fortissimo.
Decrescendo.
Pianissimo.
De capo al fine.

Collaboration

Posted in Daily Prompt, DiscoverWP, poetry

Fried Chicken

I tried once
feeling depleted and homesick
wet-eyed, hungry and
desperate for
my momma’s hug and smile
needing to taste and feel the comfort
of home
So, I tried to once
to cook
my momma’s fried chicken
but I lost myself in the memories

Momma’s ancient cast iron skillet
filled with hot
bubbling cooking oil
sits sentient
and hospitable like
a queen awaiting her court

An ordinary brown paper bag
filled with flour and
curry powder and
seasoned salt and
and my momma’s love
waits like me
champing at the bit
impatient and intoxicated
longing for that crunchy,
flaky, irresistibly
tender and juicy
bite of
my momma’s fried chicken

she shakes and gently
drops the breaded ambrosia
sizzling in the skillet
and I watch in awe of
my momma’s fingers
covered in wet clumps of flour
reaching in for more
those time-worn fingers
are magical
because
her fried chicken is divine
a favorite on heaven’s menu
no doubt

I salivate as she flips
those golden crusted
morsels and time shortens
her magical fingers
she knows I will grab the first wing
I will sneak out of the kitchen
and I will burn the ever-loving life
out of my tongue
but I can’t resist
the warmth
the love
the taste
of my momma’s fried chicken

Hospitality