You Can’t Hide Heart


You Can’t Hide Heart

Will I ever write a poem as beautiful as Maya’s?

Will I ever hit a note as high as Mariah’s?

Will I ever love a King like Empress Menen?

If I hold my head high past the flying fruit like Ruby will I ever get in?

Must I continue to sail the high seas like Ida B to tell my horrific story?

Or should I swing a racket next to my sister to earn power and glory?

Maybe I should pick out my crown like Kathleen and ball up my fists?

Or rock a beret like Queen B at the half and stunt on the risk?

So many questions but for me the answer is this.

All the spirits whisper, grab a pen and work your wrist.

Seafoam Black

New York makes me feel so seafoam black in the wintertime.

In this climate no matter what you choose you lose.

So I wander the world seeking various forms of warmth and empty spaces.

Here I am.

Who wouldn’t want to escape? Oh the prices one pays to follow a dream.

What would it cost to skip a step, or two?

Leaving memories right where they are when they hurt.

Learning by backtracking like The Almanac.

Now, I’m looking back on moments I couldn’t wait to complete with nostalgia and mental screenshots of how you looked at me. ‘Faded pictures in a broken glass’ or something like it.

Here we are. 

Next to you I sit, breathing in harsh realities exhaling my own interpretations of the truth with glitter sprinkled on top like greatness.

What a rush when you win.

What a rush when you have the opportunity to begin again.

What’s the rush?

Next To Me
Jheri Hardaway, Next To Me

Dreams #12

It’s true how bold we become

when we know we’re loved.

That’s where will gets fuel from,

blowing in the wind like because 

while we’re busy with the revolution 

fulfilling undreampt dreams

slow as the local in search of soultions

in a world of water and loyal schemes.

Remembering this book is brief 

and our time together is our time together

perhaps they’ll listen. These are just beliefs

heavy as eagle feathers.

In the end it’ll be worth it,

once they understand the purpose.

 

   

English Sonnet

Got the Green Light

 

Green
Green

I feel like a green light. Nothing can impede my progress.Not traffic, not accidents, not even running out of gas.

There is no stopping a green light. Go means go, and I go hard. Harder than the car in the next lane. Faster than the fastest cars and the bigger cars hogging up multiple lanes.

I keep my oil changed, I rotate my tires, and maintain a clean interior so I can run efficiently and productively. I am the green light, controlling the traffic around me.

Even when the power is out my light still shines. I don’t see stop signs. I turn on and I’m out.

Some want to ride when they see my gleaming green light, but this is a coupe and no one rides for free.

So if you see me rolling around with the windows down in your town stay out of my lane.

Honk, honking shining in green on skinny tires, that’s me.

Vroom, vrooming past the Sunday drivers. Watch what you say and see, all the lights turn green for me!

Dreams #11

There was only one window. The darkness of the night left the room dreary and lonely. The entire space was cold because of the nights eerie sentiment. Closing her eyes she remembered a brighter time. It was just a week ago. She was free to roam. Free to live. Outside of all walls without guidance or instruction she wandered. She stopped only when she was exhausted and that moment had arrived. Resting outside of a small hut she sat next to a bush of green roses. She had never seen such a flower and was enamored by the vibrance. Pricked by a thorn upon attempting to touch she sat patiently looking onto the flowers. In that moment one began to bloom. She watched as the bud unfolded in front of her petal after petal after petal. She couldn’t help but wonder when she would bloom. Opening her eyes the darkness returned and the warmth of the roses became a distant memory. She knew pretending wouldn’t protect her and chill would never keep her mind still. So she sat alone in the dark without a hint or a clue.

6pm

I sat resting uneasy on that of which we exist, where the clocks are all wrong because time never mattered. I continuously wonder why we are all so bad at being good and when we became comfortable with being wrong.
With my soul as my witness I wonder what it’s all for? 
After years and years of toil in my mind I exhaled and accepted the facts. I shut down the angel and the devil on my shoulders; they became one in the same like the flightless bird and green fruit that share a name. 
Straight up like six o’clock. 

Dream #9

Dream #9

I can hear you.

Know that if you get louder I’ll ignore you.

I was almost asleep.

Drifting between being awake and being lost in thought-like-dreams.

I couldn’t wake up and recover or quite establish where I was while I was dreaming

But I could hear you.

Your whisper is as loud as your yell and it hisses with the wind.

I opened my eyes and saw Saul. The cold couldn’t keep me away.

 

You were nowhere to be found,

but Saul stood in the snow too hot to be cool.

A statue of eagerness.

The wind rustled with leaves while Saul watched an old lady shovel her snow.

It was as if he was waiting for her to finish.

I couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t ask if she needed help.

However, I wasn’t in a hurry to help either. I was shivering.

I looked down to find myself not adequately covered for the cold.

I ran over to take shelter under the awning of a bus stop.

I longed to see something amazing and there it was,

right before my eyes a white summer.

Snow covered what was once the passionate heat of the season,

but the cold couldn’t keep me away.

 

I felt a sphere soar past my head barely missing my hair.

It was quickly followed by a choir of laughter by a bunch of little boys.

The soccer ball sailed out into the street.

Saul ran out to kick it back at them.

None of them noticed me.

The boys ran past, too young to care.

Surrounded and still alone, I was just another soul in the snow.

The old lady finished as the bus approached.

I checked my pockets. Three dollars and six dimes.

The door opened and the driver acknowledged me with a nod.

I handed him all the money. He gave me back a dollar and a dime.

New Book: M.E.E.T. me for Tea in London link to iTunes!

 

 

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Too Worn Out

Too Worn Out

 

Incessantly insisting ‘keep the peace’

and dry my useless tears,

forgetting that I bear

a pain beyond my years.

 

‘Wake up and smell the weeds’

tomorrow isn’t promised

nor is later,

to be honest.

 

Holding hope in my hand

until it escapes through these fingers

like sand.

Simply a shell lingers.

 

Cardinals chirp atop trees.

Brown twigs,

without leaves sway

in a dry rainforest.

 

I’d rather be blind

than watch a leman break,

coming away a lifeless

grey soul to take.

 

Regardless of the glory,

despite the sweet taste of the sun,

Another victim of the system.

Simply a lesson learned.

 

For Paul Lawrence Dunbar

Time

Only right now matters. Time is an illusion that floats by undetected. A long and a short hand spoiled by thoughts and wants for the future.

If we’re pleased by the present why are we plagued and distracted by tomorrow? After all, here we are.

Tonight and today.

Near and far. Don’t judge.

I’m still trying to make time a friend of mine. Minutes run together month after month, week after week, and day after day.

Why watch at all?

Is it necessary to weigh down ones wrist when the present is such a worthy gift?

It’ll be gone soon. It floats by. That is time’s only guarantee.

Now as we leap from year to year may this season’s hopes shatter any seconds of fear.  Until the hour when all that should be is I will not acquiesce to the wondering.

It’s more about the moment. While the dark of the night turns to day before all is lost every minute I’ll hope and pray the green envy of tomorrow fades today.

On or overtime I truly believe we all will receive exactly what we need.

Should it never arrive, even after a triennium; It’ll become evident indeed that now is all we need.

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