Friday, January 15, 2010

Poem #15 of 365: Hurdles

I smell smoke!

I stop, 
I drop, 
I roll,
I train. 

I smell smoke!
. . . from the gun

I run,
I flee,
I jump,
I escape.

I smell smoke!
. . .from the gun--
bullet in the air!
Trying to alert me.
I think too much
about children dying,
mothers crying,
fathers denying
their newborns. 
I think too much 
about you
and  I die from waiting. 

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Poem #14 of 365: Public Transportation

She is the Amistad,

Transporting Them

To a foreign land.

Their wrists and tongues

Will be tied for decades

With the same hemp

Nooses that will hang them


Children will breed children

For decades thinking That fucking

Is the only way to Salvation

(When all they needed was a 

black Barbie doll or a father

who cared), And the harder they fuck raw,

The closer (they think)

They'll be to Mother Africa,

With her deplorable conditions

And escalating HIV rates


A tragic homeland so forgotten

We think that naming our kids

Sharmeika, Tameika, or Tyrique

Is what it means to be Afrocentric;

A homeland so indistiguishible

We forget our luxuries and assume

We can  live on a bowl of rice

And drink pure goat milk

As flies sting our eyes

And babies don't know

If they'll live or die

To see the red clay again. 

The train roars past the Upper East Side 

Like a an unfed rhino attacking

The undone rail system Indians

used to enslave Us in Africa.

The conductor says  "Next stop is. . ."

And you can not 

Hear the rest for his voice fades. 


These are sad times where

A beggar is not really poor,

But the man with the 

$135 Timberland boots,

$45 fitted ball cap,

And no job is.

We live in a pathetic society

Where we care 

Too damn much 

About things that will never matter.

Materialism is the source of salvation

but we will never find our way home.

The train goes several routes,

But the hood will only get us but so far.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Poem #13 of 365: Tears of a Clown

An 8-track plays number 1 on the stereo

while I laugh because I'd never seen tears  of a clown--I walk around, smiling, 

pretending to cry, entertaining the  adults until they get annoyed. The house 

fills with Smokey's smooth voice knocking 

down the walls, finding its way into the 

ears and souls of those long gone. The

adults play cards and drink drinks

while I sit in my room on the burgundy 

comforter lightly coated with coal dust 

atop white sheets with black feet stains. 

Mama always said to bathe before 

I go to bed--but my  feet always 

get dirty. She dances, telling me to spin her. 

I'm half her height and she ends up  turning me so the room spins and I'm drunk 

on her giddyness. Her kisses smell  like stale jim beam and menthol cigarettes. 

I turn away and she kisses me again, laughing.

She puts me to bed, turns out the light, 

and closes the door.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Poem #12: Animal Instinct (Liberia 2008)

black hot sand
spits up,
licking our backs
like hot Lick Branch coals
from under our ATV tires.
we ride fast, faster, fastest
from the jungle--
where its much cooler,
damper, and dangerous!
He knows not to come
after dusk!
screaming for Man to leave
we flee like 
porch monkeys!
leave. we got to leave!
jumping and swinging from trees,
defecating on pale faces.
hissing, beating our chests like
Tarzan, warning Them
one last time.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Poem #11: Jezebel

A true whore prevails--
Red rose tattoo--
on neck
he kisses her gently--
The next man awaits. 

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Poem #10: Fasting

The eradication of mankind--
my life is stale.
A pleco
A catfish
A bottomfeeder--
eats from the table
with Him.
Decisions will be made.