Dragonfly

You have many sides

Revealed by your eyes

Your wings are very strong. But they're transparent

Sometimes I feel like I'm wrong, but that's probably apparent

Summer, I must remember... To stay away from this river

You're so beautifully distracting

I didn't even feel the contracting

Didn't feel myself get devoured

Could no longer feel empowered

There goes my body

The end of the party

But you'll leave my wings behind How thoughtful, how kind

Rush of realization as I die

Who'd want to kill a butterfly?

Your wings are very strong

But they're transparent

Sometimes I feel like I'm wrong But, that's probably apparent

Summer, I must remember... To stay away from this river

I'm so disappointed

Once felt so anointed

I notice now you are smaller

Can tell that you are weaker, Not as strong as the others

Not quite like your sisters and brothers

Yes, you've fooled another

Though your eyes should've blown your cover

Turns out you're a damsel

who put me through this hell

Your wings are very strong But they're transparent

Sometimes I feel like I'm wrong, but that's probably apparent

Summer, I must remember...To stay away from this river

I couldn't always behave

You, I could not save

Though I'm the one who's brave

Ask forgiveness, I forgave

Rush of realization as I die

Who'd want to kill a butterfly?

Rush of realization now that I'm dying

Leave only my wings, forever incapable of flying

YOUR PEN

America is fading from your pen

Your tight grip has suffocated it

Its tattered reflection is part of your body now

Others cradled the pen

They only used it when they had to

It was precious

Now it is worn, withered

No, America is not branded on it anymore

It is something else

Red with anger

Blue with sorrow

And so, so very white

Give yourself a hand

Go ahead

Drop the pen

Occulation

Morning comes before afternoon.

And the sun shines brighter than the moon.

So far that all sounds in-tune.

Or so they’d have you believe.

But when you get to the highest-energies.

Well, then it’s all lunar indeed.

Imagine being the sun.

Always ahead in the run.

Imagine being the golden child.

And thinking others so mild.

Then here comes the moon.

Making people swoon.

And just by glowing and hanging around?

While you put in work, pulsate and beat down?

Now add getting blocked out, woof, really? Whew.

And people needing special glasses just to look at you.

Well, my friend, you’d get a little heated too.

But in here, there’s a lesson, one kinda sublime.

Turns out afternoon comes before morning all the time.

And everyone, yes, everyone, gets their time to shine.

R u l e l e s s

Your young eyes stare back at me

Clueless

My mighty heart cares not for thee

Ruthless

You stand a foot above this girl

True this

But you’re not her level, her world

Useless

Time is just time for someone like I

Youth wiz

You should be careful with yours

try Fruitless

Because I’m still wandering (nomadic)

Shoeless

You get mad with activities (sporadic)

Rue this

Can’t take a joke and get upset

Broodish

Ya act like a child that needs a rest

Blew this

It’s my fault; I knew it’d be nothing

Blueish

But it’s fun; I guess that’s something

Sure is

You were planning getaways

Cruises

I was scanning better plays

Muses

‘Cuz I’m too rough for ya

Bruises

You’re just too soft, duh

Toolish

You feel way too much

Foolish

Say I don’t enough

Screw it

I deserve better anyhow

Cuteish

Reserved, no openings now

Cool it

I predict a knockout

Cubish

That might knock your block off

Toothless

Consider yourself back on that market

Gruelish

Probably have to find someone starving

Oh, shiT

n o w

Now is the hour for those in power to topple

To come down like the statues that once stood

When you stand for hate, your knees grow weak 

As weak as your excuses

Your fists are clenched on your desk

It takes more strength to raise them in the streets

And it speaks volumes that some speak via character limit

We are very aware your character is limited

And the only thing you do more than tweet with your thumbs is twiddle

There are many more who need to be fact-checked, spell-checked, gut-checked

More names to name

More seats to take

More oppressors, suppressors, transgressors

If you’re wondering if this is you, just assume it is

Stop wondering, and start knowing

Don’t be surprised when your microaggressions make people aggressive

Don’t expect people to hold your hand

You’ve slapped theirs, and worse

You’ve tried people’s patience

But you haven’t tried much else

YOU’LL BE FOUND OUT

You are a user
And manipulation is your drug
You are a pusher
Selling by the pounds, making you smug
They call you for another score
You give 'em what they think they need
But the high's short; soon they're back on the floor
Coax 'em into more when they should heed
Your fix is more like a break
Now they're back, after you, sweatin’
It's a shame they can't see you're fake
When you're not around you have 'em frettin’
They think your $#!*'s so sweet; makes their teeth rot
But when they can't take care of you, you're done
You've got what they want but they've not got knots
It's on to a new customer and new "some ones"
A day will come when they've conspired
And they'll ignore your call 'cuz they've quit
Because you can't fulfill what they really require
You're an intriguing puzzle piece but you don't fit

They'll figure you out eventually
They'll sort coincidence from intentionally
What goes up comes down
Hope there's gonna be a net between you and the ground

If you only knew what the peasants speak
When the royalty decides to fall sleep
I play the jester, dance as I defend
But, my back hurts from the constant bend
I can't smile as long, or dance as fast
As I use to, back when I thought it'd last
I'm having trouble breathing with this mask
I'm growing too old to keep up with these tasks
As much as I've loved your court, I feel like in the end it falls short
Maybe I could be a vendor
Instead of a pretender
I don't want to join the common
But there I may have less problems
Maybe I’ll go to a place not ruled by a tyrant
A land where one needn't be silent
If all the people should revolt
And future leaders decide to consult
I hope they decide to spare instead of behead
They'll learn how not to lead from how you led

They'll figure you out eventually
They'll sort coincidence from intentionally
What goes up comes down
Hope there's gonna be a net between you and the ground

my tan hands

You want me to plant the seed

And you to pick the flower

Me to toil in 103° weather

While you rock in your chair

Back and forth

On the porch, under the cool shade

Sipping iced tea

Cubes clanking

As my shovel hits the uncooperative earth

You match the sun’s malevolence

Except it has the decency to treat everyone equally

You won’t even pick the flower

you’ll have me hand it to you

To my little crab:

I’m not afraid of your pinchers

Nor your pinche errs

Pinche errs

Yah, that’s a whole ‘nother thing

But I feel like forgiving

Maybe cuz we’re both from the water

(See, If she sidestepped off a cliff, I’d have caught her)

Watched her devour smaller souls all rash

But we were bigger, could’ve made a splash

‘stead of dipping

Don’t tell me it was the seawater you were sipping

With your plans

And your hands

Err, pinchers

Wandering

Pondering

Circling a trap, you put out, to come for me

(Calling it humane cuz you thought it)

Having set it not for a meal, but company

(You just forgot it was aquatic)

Pushing to take me home, working on the hard sell

Forgetting that would require you to share your shell

Didn’t want to just be taken home, caught up in the swell

Wanted to be going home, making home, becoming home as well

black, navy, purple & teal

Did it make you feel like a man?
To make her lower her head with your hand?
What a depraved, pathetic plan
Respect is something you should earn, not demand
Is it that you’re ignorant and just don’t understand?
Or just too impatient for a different reprimand?
Well she’s not gonna bury her head in the sand
You couldn’t extinguish her, instead she would expand
And she’s not gonna rest until your acts are banned
Tearing the crowns off all the self-proclaimed queens and kings of the land
Because there is only one Father who can truly command
And cause her to kneel instead of stand
One that doesn’t throw you fistful-of-hair-first to the ground like it’s their brand
One that instead knows every hair on your head, values each one, every strand
No, your behavior will not withstand

He goes in for a hug but she’s flinchin’
He asks her what’s wrong; there’s something he’s missin’
But to tell him or not is her decision
As it is for anyone in her position
The advocates for it don’t share her vision
But they aren’t the ones who are in remission
Of a cancer-like confliction
Involving low self-esteem and aggression
And other mental and behavioral problems that are too many to mention
All due to a desire for acquisition of an undeserved inglorious position
Of tyranny…but soon comes abolition
That is if no one dies in any collision
Some cite the Bible and others look to superstition
But there are those who’ll always have suspicion
And will always be under some sort of revision
So don’t sneak up behind when he’s watching television
Because there’s a likelihood for punchin’ and kickin’
It’s reflexes that go without thought or reflection
Because someone hurt him, so excuse the twitchin’
He’s fuming so much, if he were a car he wouldn’t pass emissions
So speak up if you aren’t in his line of vision
He always lost in his dad’s court where beatings were convictions
So it’s time we put our noses where they DO belong and listen
To the cries of the abused children
And it’s time that we set a mission of precision
To erase a number that even during this has risen

This epidemic involves all people
Of every descent, Chinese to Creole
If we don’t speak for them—who will?
’Cuz bruises disappear and welts heal
But trust issues and anxiety are real
So is the anger and resentment they feel
So tell me what is the appeal?
You’re too cool to use words, is that the deal?
If it were up to me, you’d be behind bars and get no last meal
Food withheld from you is nothing compared to what you’ve tried to steal
Can’t begin to tell you the pain that came when I realized my life was surreal
Because none of my friends’ bodies were black, navy, purple and teal
And they weren’t treated in a way comparable to veal
Because of the belt, I’m urging that these acts must yield
Because of the boot, I speak about this matter with such zeal

Thumb-Tied

I’m all thumbs 

Tugging at a tie I’m not wearing 

I’m all thumbs 

Brushing away my hair to see you better

I’m all thumbs

Flipping through books wondering if you’ve read them 

I’m all thumbs 

Steadying my coffee mug, consuming caffeine and your quips

I’m all thumbs

Liking what you have to say, but missing the sound of your voice

I’m all thumbs 

Hitting a space bar, instead of hitting a bar with you

I’m all thumbs

Checking notifications every day, okay more 

I’m all thumbs 

Looking for something to stare at that isn’t the message from you 

I’m all thumbs 

And they can’t even trace your face or graze your lips right now

I’m 

all

thumbs 

< Than

I once knew every mark on your face
my hand would go to hold it
You’d bat it away
You’d press and poke at mine
Make sure to call attention to the hairs on my brow
And I’d just let you
I’d let you make me feel less than
I started whole

I write short stories as well.

(An excerpt from)

Inextinguishable

Back then? We were truly free. Our biggest concern was what we were doing for the weekend. Some would call us reckless. I’d say we were scrupulous, adamant about escaping submission; stubborn with unrelenting disdain for compromise. School was merely a suggestion. We roamed as kings and queens of that time, that neighborhood, charmed by youth and captivated by debauchery. We got it. Everyone else was missing the point. My parents tried their best, to keep me from running amuck. They suggested hobbies. My kid sister was in band. Our roles were strangely reversed. They had their eldest child last. Then there’s my older brother. We don’t talk about him. Anyway, my sister...she was the ideal child, favored by my parents, neighbors and relatives alike. She’d spend her days entrenched in studies and she’d transform littler lives in her free time with tutoring, volunteering, teaching other young girls how to be prim, proper and plié. Twirling. Twirling. Just like most of the kids in that town. I guessed they didn’t see the irony of starting and ending in the same place. I hope they have a fun go-round. Soon, they’d be older.  Then they’d see where compliance got them. 

They obeyed, ensuing a trite, tasteless life. The doors that confined them flung open. They froze, unsure of how to behave uncaged, expressing themselves in the only ways they knew how—clutching to what was safe and known. The sickest part? They were oblivious. When did they lose it? Curiosity runs through our veins when we’re little, it’s often mistaken for rebelliousness. We’re taught how to restrict ourselves, placing limitations on what’s feasible. If we’re unreasonable. we’re deemed difficult or insane. My friends and I? We preferred the latter, understanding that soon we'd be fully-fledged adults, vulnerable to entrapment—twirling children twirling children. There was plenty of time to be grown. Why retreat toward duty when you can romp in exemption? Instead, we craved, searched and uncovered. There was plenty of time to start the cycle over: Find a way to pay the bills, meet someone nice in town, settle down—emphasis on the settle—become slightly neglectful and admittedly disinterested parents, sitting our kids in front of screens, or suggesting hobbies for them to latch onto so they wouldn’t embarrass us later when they had to move back home. Secretly, some part of some parents wanted us to fail every now and then. Our missteps comforted them. Not only did they feel needed, they felt vindicated. Maybe then their sons and daughters would realize how tough life was. They’d recognize their parents had been young too once, passionate about something and unsure of nothing. Until...they were unsure...until life hunkered down and whispered in their ear, “You shouldn’t. You can’t. You won’t.” Until they listened and believed that.

They’d recognize their parents had been young too once, passionate about something and unsure of nothing. Until...they were unsure...until life hunkered down and whispered in their ear, “You shouldn’t.You can’t. You won’t.” Until they listened and believed that.

I remember my father trying to teach me guitar. It seemed more liberating than joining the school band like my sister. But, there was something really sad about the way he played that guitar. He’d ride the pedal like a gentle song of surrender. That wasn’t going to be me. Sorry, pops

So while other circles went from “Ring Around the Rosie” to wedding-dance twirls, we did everything we could to escape. Our fire wasn’t that of a candle, easily extinguished with a blow. Ours was the kind of fire whose flames are only fanned and magnified by wind. We couldn’t stand still. If we did, the wind would push us in the wrong direction, hissing, “Be a teller. Be a repairman. Be a butcher. Be something here. Never leave this town.”

Screw that.