Thursday, February 26, 2009

Sadness In Blunt Major

I was at Brooklyn Poetry Outreach reading and supporting other artist, and as often happens after such creative events, I got inspired. This piece, in the bit of hind-sight gained in the hour it's been since I composed it on the train, is a bit of a mixture of themes and images... enjoy!

“Sadness In Blunt Major”

Sadness in blunt major
Strikes me down
As azure hues
And notes
Sing me to sorrow
On my selfish brow
I guess it’s in my blood
The ease at which
I get down
Yet nary a one would notice
At least in my youth
That my rhythm
Was slightly off
A pigeon-toed fool
Jesting about for the masses
Hoping to escape
Eventually forget
The black stanzas
Echoing in the mind;
I guess it’s in my blood
The ease at which
I get down
Even while I sing proud
Move my hips to the sway
Born of work
Same as play
And tunes that echoed
Sweet escape
Under midnight mark
Royal and soft
As velvet kisses
I wished to lie upon
As I was gettin
In sadness blunt major
With nary a frown…

Monday, February 23, 2009

For The Love Of You

For the love of you
I can't figure out this feeling
That's created when my thoughts turn
To smiles
And each breath stolen
as you kiss me close

For the love of you
I shake my head in wonder
Because I don't want to be doing this
Writing what I should be telling you
Face to face
Heart to heart
Lost within your cynical eyes
Bright and mysterious
Looking so close but as far away
As stars and mysteries of the universe

For the love of you
I know I won't sleep so well tonight
Tossing incessantly
Upon the question I bestowed
And the asking it
(As I always seem to do)
At the obviously wrong time
For you;
Wishing you were here
To draw me close
In surprise
Releasing smile
And answer
Abating the concern
That I am not for you
Allowing me to dream
Within everything I was
And shall be
For the love of you.

Damn this shit hurts...

Breathe Me Black

I just recently read this for a couple of audiences. It always goes over SO well so I decided to post it here. It is one of my true gems. This piece is dedicated to the amazing Brooklyn Poet, Barbara Newsome for inspiring it with her vivid words and characters. Yes..take me back...

“Breathe Me Black”

Breathe me black
As you take me back
To clay roads red
And fields of ninety degrees
Harvesting the crop
In the six degrees often forgot
With beads of sweat
The ones that grandma
With her hands ancient
And beautiful
Like the big ‘ol oak out front,
Would wipe away saying
‘Chile, It’s just the lord’s way
of coolin’ ya off’;

Breathe me black
As I’m taken back
To the haze
And that scent of country
That lingered
In hallways
And living rooms almost ramshackle
Aberrations of engineering
Testaments to the ingenuity of necessity
And the not knowing you were poor
Because there was wealth of love
And you actually had time
To be a child
Because grown folk’s business
And language
Was just that;

Breathe me black
And what I wouldn’t give to be back
At Sunday dinners
And in the yard
By the time the streetlamp
Flickered to life
Or best your hide be tanned;
At the back of my father’s pick-up
Old and reliable
The wind in my ears
And the scent of country in my nose
As we drove to the fields
Not to work
But as I realize now
To keep a connection
To our past and the success
Of simpler times
In the ninety degrees
Of the six degrees of separation
As we breathed in black
Instead of selling it
Misinforming it
To sell another ghetto rhyme
And the outfits to match
A Neanderthal mentality
That suffocates us faster
Than the ninety degrees that we bore
As we breathed in black
Only to exhale
In the six degrees of justification…

Rooms Of Ruin

I'd tossed around an idea for quite sometime about something someone told me a long time ago. He said that I'd built these rooms of comfort that I existed in, and that my way of dealing with the harsh realities of life was to run throughout these rooms in hiding... That image never left my mind and has appeared in various pieces I have written over the years. As I got older, I came to look on these "rooms" as my ruin. I always feel like I am trying to make my way out of them, but in the process another room appears...

“Rooms Of Ruin”

Drips from every word
Flow within my veins
Again my pages stained
From the truth
And the lie
Of the darkness
And the shame
As I cry from the fight
Of what was lost
What’s to be gained
Sitting in my chair
Surrounded by walls of flame
Thinking of a way
To exit these rooms of ruin
I’ve built from day to day;
So many years in this labyrinth
With no more crumbs to guide my way
Within comforts of my mind
That worked the pain from day to day
Score the coat
Erect the pile
Again the page is stained
Blood of the lost
Tune of the fear
Another room of ruin appears…


This is the piece that has made me come to realize that I need to travel more...even if just for a day!


The water’s different here
Greater somehow
Cresting larger with each break
Cold and abandoned
A child starved of attention
Beating upon the leg of its mother
Seeking nothing more than acknowledgement
That which nourished
Will grow to respect.

The sand is different here
Grainy and rough
Like attitudes and countless heads
Attempting to fight the elements
As they mist my specs
And a dense fog
Soiled and gray rolls in
Stealing the horizon;

The peace?
The same
As sounds of infinity come
Again and again
Between the shrill of gulls
Temporarily grounded
And the sporadic pounding
Of the boardwalk
As someone walks or runs by
At peace
In the stealing gray
And the infinite footprints
Waiting for cresting waves
To sweep them away
Out of acknowledgement
Of the revolution of fate.

Monday, February 16, 2009


Push push
You saw me
I was crawlin'
Across the groove
Wanting wanting
Just with you
And I together
In the plush baseline
Repetitive joy
Push push
Just hush
Hold me tight
As we grind
In serpentine
Decline to rush
What I'm feeling
Just want to push
Into your heaven
Feel the rush
Of your baseline
The plush of your divine

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Before Night Falls

Ok, forgive me. I 'm on a bit of a stroll down memory lane with my last few post... I promise my next one will be new...LOL! This piece will always be one of my favorites. For one, it's a song, and I am always partial to something I can remember by singing. Second, I based it's melody on a delectable slice of music by my favorite artist Prince. If it ever DID become a song, unfortunately it would have to be recoreded with a much different sound to avoid litigation. But if you get the chance, search for a song called "Digital Garden" by Prince and listent to about the 1st 50secs of the song...the beat, oh the beat. Then, close your eyes and see if this sucker doesn't fit right in with that sexy undercurrent... Enjoy!

"Before Night Falls"

Here now as I stare upon your face
Ecstasy fills my mind
Oh yes how I love this place
You’ve brought my soul to time after time
Do you understand the purity
Of the words
That drop from your lips?
They've soaked into the heart of me
My body they send on a wonderful journey.

The sanctity of your touch upon me
Every time you do
My soul you set free
I keep asking myself could this be
A blinding fantasy?
Only thing that gets me through the day
Is to know
That before night falls
You’ll come my way
I can't concentrate
Every time I breathe your name.

You're the completion of the soul within me
You’re the half that makes the whole
Do you know that without you
I would slowly die away
Like the close of a day
A sunset here to stay;
But I know that
Before night falls
You’ll come my way.

How many times
Have I stared upon your face?
So many times
Never wanting to leave this place...

Before night falls
I want it all (of you)
I need it all (us two)
All my love will fall (on you)
Before night falls...

Bedford Ave. Rush

Gentrification. One of the best things about NYC is the subway system. When you're jam-packed into such a small space day after day, you can't help but to notice things. This one came out of joke told to me one night on the way home. Admittedly we were both a bit "under the influence", but this joke would've still resonated just as strongly in a sober state. To all those L-train travelers... "Bedford Ave. Rush"... Enjoy!

“Bedford Ave. Rush”

Back of the train
And it’s all the same
Lost in a world
Of privilege
No pain
Shamefully lucky
And it goes on again
No real struggle
Other than
What they etch on themselves
Dye on themselves
Pierce on themselves
Wear on themselves;
When naked
We are all the same
‘Cept for the shade
And the beds that we made
And where are we?
But for the lucky ones
Further away
With fewer stores
Fewer lights
Far more cops
And far more fights
Watching around
As all is renewed
To get the pasties
To exit
At more than just
Bedford Ave.

The Starving Artist

Here is an oldie but VERY goody.... This was one the first poems I ever memorized without even trying. It was born out of an image I saw in a film entitled "Delores Claiborne" where Delores' daughter is coming to grips with her past. She walks into a restroom on a ferry to get herself together and when she looks into the mirror she sees only her backside in the reflection. That moment coupled with the drama in my life at the time gave birth to this piece. As always, enjoy!

"The Starving Artist"

I look in the mirror
And all I want to do is cry
Tears of forever
An eternity of why.

The grumble in my stomach
Hunger’s strange euphoric high
In and out of consciousness
So close again to die.

The tips of my fingers numb
The funds in my account
The pain in my back strain
Word on the street
I'm insane.

To have so much
Yet have none at all
Always seeming to rise
Yet further I fall
I stare in my mirror
Among the black
All I see
Is my very own back...

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Just Felt Like Writing

Self explanatory... enjoy!

"Just Felt Like Writing"

Sun to a shadow
Will I weather the storm?
Rose to the thorn
Why were they born?
I lost my voice today
Trying to correct their mistakes
And now I'm writing
Making plans
For my escape
Just felt like writing
Just to get away
If only for a moment

I guess my private play
Is where my salvation lies
Because my public tears
Are met with chides
Salt to slices of lemon
I try to make sweet fluid from
For my escape
Just felt like writing
If only for moment
Just to get away

Stars are to night
There's something in the air
I breathe
I seethe
Trying to point out his mistake
In my desperate moment of fragility
And the fact that for once
I'd just like for him to do something
Because it's sweet
Not to mention I just need it right now
That escape
Just to write
If only for a moment
To taste sweet fluid
From lemon slices tinged with salt
Sold to me by fate...

Just felt like writing
With nothing much to really say
Sunrise to follow
Followed by escape
If only for a moment
To correct my mistakes
Glasses filled with ice
Waiting for sweet lemonade.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

He Who Kills

The title of this piece comes from a great short story called "Prey" by Richard Matheson which was used in a movie called "Trilogy of Terror". When I first read the story I thought the name of the Zuni warrior was quite cool. After an unfortunate week and half and massive moments of anger, I have given a name to the darkness within...

“He Who Kills”

He who kills
The beast within
I try not to listen
But he is in my blood
Always inhabiting the back of my mind

He who kills
The fear within
Diaphragm rising and falling
And words louder exude
What’s to come
If he who kills awakens
The taste of blood
Dwelling upon his tongue
I try not to listen
But he is in my mind
Just behind the eyes
I find at times
That I stare at too long in the mirror
He who kills
Glimpsing the shell

Where does he come from?
Why does he exist?
I don’t think I could ever rid myself
So I scramble
Shifting about to quiet him
Until the tired comes
Frustration descends
A black darker than death
Infinite as the night
And the long, slow ignition
Planned or spontaneous
As cracks in the shell
He who kills
The dire need
And he who kills grins
In salvation
Because his time has come.

Where does he come from?
Why does he exist?
The repetitive stance
Echoing as my muscles ache
And the folds in my mind pulsate
Caught in the precise moment of defeat
As I stand to the side
Yelling in silence
He Who kills
Readying his spear…

Thursday, February 5, 2009

"November Sobriety"

I wrote this election night '08. With history being made I, as with many things, needed a subway ride to mull it all over. What was said. How it was said. What it meant to me... to us...

“November Sobriety”

I looked into his eyes
Restraining the waves
That would eventually fall
In the private room
Already such a rarity;
Looked into his eyes
Listened to his voice
As had been on his historic path
Saw the realization
Of the task at hand
Inspiring not just a nation
But a world
And for all I knew
A universe;
Listened to his voice
Hearing warnings of things to come
This is a man who knows better
(Or at least has someone working for him who does)
Who will sit as others before
In his private room
Now almost a distant memory
Either growing or shrinking
With every blow
As the inevitable selfish
Pray to their god of earth
As to their God of heaven
What about me?
But this is a man who knows this;
Knows better I hope…

"Rue Results"

Told him tears fall
Told them
No one hears their calls
System fails at some point all
No one takes the fall
Displace the blame
To make the same
As world's away
Where forgotten lay
Beneath the heels of wealth
Greed that forms the death
Of simplicity
What's to become of me?
Every Sunday I would hear them say
Plantation's gone
But plantation stays
To carry on within the face
Aged but unchanged beneath
What is this?
Pieces of the cross for sale?
Told them tears fall
Told them
They must first hear their calls
That the system fails us all
But I took responsibility...

"Mountains And Springs"

Mountains and springs
Spoke to me within a dream
One from another
And different all the same
Mountains and springs
Life and then dream.

We share the moon
Sun and the stars
Connected between
The things that we dream
Upon mountains and springs
And most other things
We all know as beauty
Even through screams
Yet the world remains
Though tattered and torn
A shred of the magnificent tapestry
Created first of mountain and spring
Life and then dreams
One from another
Yet different all the same
Mountain and spring
Silence then scream.

Seeking the heavens
Sapphire and dark
One from another
We forget the lesson green
Of mountain and spring
Breath before song
In the unity of things
So different
Yet all the same
Spoken in dreams
Of sapphire and dark
Released one after the other
Yet all missing their mark
So busy seeking the heavens
They grounded their ark
On mountain and spring
Drunk and then dreams
Of what may have been
In the revival of things
A lesson of green
One from another
Breath and then scream
Mountains and springs
Death and then dreams.

"Their Stories"

Somewhere in the tune
Beat of the second hand
Lights upon faces
Mystery of their places
Across from me
Just a seat from me
Lost within the lines
Of a tune or sign
Maybe sleepin'
And she's weepin'
Caught within the fight
In this public light

I try to look beyond faces
But they call to me
As I wonder
Do they see
Down a few spaces
Composing in my mind
Down a few places
Reading in their books
Loving with their looks
How lovely I'll take them home
Each and every one
Upon these lines
Always undone
Because that's inspiration
Because that is my station
To observe the man
To see the tear fall
Before she cries
As she's done before
Another night
Another line
Or maybe it was this one
They all meld to one
Always remain undone...

Sunday, February 1, 2009

The Back Of My Hand

What did I ask for
Looking behind closed doors?
Was it freedom?
Or was it something more?
At the back of my hands
Yet within the palm of my hand
What did I ask for?
So why should I bleed more?
Pray upon our knees
Hoping that God sees
And opens the closed door
To open to much more
At the back of my hand
Yet the palm of my hand
So what did I ask for?
In this world
But to be more
Time's palate of possibility
To go beyond doors of mystery
To stake my claim upon the earth
To return to the rights
Granted with my birth
Where the back of my hand
Meant suffocation
Yet the palm of my hand
And none of it was asked for
Yet together with them
I am more...