Thursday, January 28, 2010

Poem #23 of 365: A Poem for JD Salinger

My heart closed
like a venus fly trap
enveloping you
into the velvet night,
keeping you warm
in nitrogen-rich sod.
You tried to feel
some kind of a good bye,
comforting me
while inside of me with your words--
making me laugh and cringe
with your words--
not knowing how to let go
of your words--
or even how a good bye truly felt;
you've left schools, and lovers,
and family, and fans--
you left me behind
being inspired, finally feeling unalone
during those dark nights
I wanted to give up.
But you kept me alive
and hopeful--
You were my nourishment,
feeding me water and rye and words.

A part of me has left.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Poem #22 of 365: The Percussionists

Drum beats
Beat my eardrum
Beats like my heartbeat beats
Beats like Jay Z beats
Or Kanye beats
Or Farrell beats
Mad beats
Like Ike beats
Tina or
Chris brown beats
Like beats that drop
For a dollar a pop
Drop it like its hot
Beats tap my feet
Won't stop
Beats bop my head
Won't stop
Black beats
New beats
Remixed beats
Beats made to rock
Beats made to flip flop
To hip hop
Beats made to silence
The sound of
Every other beat
known to man.
Understand beats
create life
Give breath
Beat upside the head
Take its breath!

"I brought you into this
God damned world,
and I can take you
out of this motherfucka."


Beats up yo mom
Beats don't peep
Thru yo window
But it beats down
The pane
But it seeps thru your keyhole
Beats too much to handle
so black men fuck
To their own beat
Thinking that
The beat of the dick upside
And inside the vaginal walls
Feel the blood flow beat,
Aint that life's beat?
Aint that what creates life
Giving us our own beat definition
And beat generation
of what we truly stand for
And if we don't stand for nothing then
Why we complaining about something
Beat up in jail
Cup against prison bars beat
Like a chain gang beat
Get back now
Like a chain gang beat
Get back now
Doin what we got to do
To survive
A brotha don't know
A beat
A brotha tries to walk
This mean street
A brotha tries to create
And defeat
The beat.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Poem #21 of 365: Black Wants

I'm reminded of your skin
the color of everything
that blocks out light,
and the way you would hold me,
afraid to let me go.
Once upon my time,
I wanted you,
and I wanted you
to make me happy;
to make me love;
to make me trust.
Waking up was
so damn hard.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Poem #20 of 365: Acoustic Attraction

The guitar is sad
No one plays her.
She sits in the corner
like a naughty girl,
collecting scents
of men who've
played her heart,
leaving her breathless
and loveless.
Nina dances
to techno music now,
wondering if you understand
her because she's
been misunderstood
for a lifetime
and played by every foolish man
who bought her a drink.