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.