Category Archives: Poetry

The Battle of NOW

NOW is when courage gets strapped on like armor
with the buckle of character and the belt of strength.
With the grieving already completed
nothing left to lose but the chains of slavery
perpetuated by the blind by choice monarchs
of an antiquated sense of royal entitlement
I will heed the trumpets of battle calling me to arms
I will join those who require justice, balance,
My sisters and brothers united.

NOW is when the shadows should be fearful
for the Light is coming, I carry it.
Until the last breath is drawn from my lungs
with a battle cry as fierce as fire
I will hold my torch aloft without discrimination
but with mercy unknown to those ignorant of truth.
Know that the moon is my shield, the sun is my guide
The clouds themselves won’t allow dark to hide.
With my sisters and brothers I will unite.

NOW is when the warrior voices of those who survive,
covered in battle wounds, scars, and bruises,
raise up their outrage against the injustices.
Swinging axes of love and beauty against the darkness
Slashing red ribbons into pretty bows to enhance life
Encouraging the young to speak violently
words of compassion, kindness, and dreams
Reminding everyone of the language of their soul
United with my sisters and brothers, I fight.

NOW is when we band together
under the warrior’s banner that reads
“COME UNITY”
with the sword of truth gleaming glittery
with freedom released into the air from the cage
where it stagnated under the weight of oppression
where it strangled under the lies of darkness
where it remained every hopeful of rebirth
Only we can be the midwives of this bloody mess
Only we can set the cries of the newborn into the world
with a swat on the buttocks of bad behaviors
apathy, disinterest, rejection, bigotry, anger
Only we can swaddle our neighbors and communities
in the dawning of a new age with baby steps of joy.

My brothers and sisters hear my please!

Come, oh come, oh come to me!

NOW is the time to refuse division of our spirits.
NOW is the time for progressing our peace through love.
NOW is the gift we’re given to make a difference,
you and me and the faceless stranger.
NOW is the time to be present in changing our future
one loving gesture at a time.
NOW we can recognize one another openly
know that it is not just your burden, but OURS.
NOW we can pull up our shirtsleeves,
honor our hearts, our minds, our hands together.
NOW we can continue the work of our ancestral souls
that are bound to our blood as we are bound to one another.

My brothers and sisters hear my please!

Come, oh come, oh come to me!

Real Time

desertoasisI don’t want to write only beautiful things
because that’s not how I see the world.
It’s pretty disgusting and horribly lovely
all mixed up and swirled.
The ugly parts that get sucked in
around strangers in public places
demonstrate our need to hide
our fearful, shameful faces.
The ones we keep, sometimes, even from within.
It allows us to judge ourselves harshly
for having typical human skin.
I don’t want to write only beautiful things
because that’s not how this world is.
But I will seek out beauty
because that is how I choose to live.

Girlish Ribbons: TRIGGER WARNING

This may cause some discomfort who have suffered from trauma and further, may cause discomfort in those that have not experienced this. In my personal life, I feel raw and violated due to circumstances of which I have no control. I am regarding another time in my life when I felt this way because currently, I’m unable to deal with recent events without turning to past emotions for reference. I am strong. I will make it through. I will win and succeed because that’s my destiny. In the mean time, I write not so pleasant and work through the not so pretty.

Before cutting was glamorous and utterly common
I showed my wounds without spilling bloody ribbons
I displayed my afflictions with self-violence abloom
Tacked to my flesh in kaleidoscope bedrooms
Begging for love, praying for forgiveness on my knees
With my eyes looking upward into those of my savior
With a little “s” and his little “o” appreciating my prayer
I rejected that which defined my “child”hood
Defined my worth from knee to waist, absorbed my youth
Sponged in sweat, punctuated with a God I knew didn’t exist
Because if he did, he surely wouldn’t have taken my sacred
And violated it upon the altar of evil in the name of my father
A likeness of god himself, would he? I did not believe.

The Queen of Heaven

The halls of the House of Heaven are adorned with blood of Her children
Refused the white alabaster once crested with silver, gold, and lapis lazuli
Now flowing with the blood of Her prostitutes, their pearls crimson with chaos
Surrender is refused, rejected, removed from the battle to prove submission
To offer power in glorious vestments rising from the throne of iniquity with grace
Descending into redemption with the drip of silk slithering with sequins suspended
The Queen of Heaven requires no sacrifices because She IS the sacrifice to death

Inanna Mine

She is the lioness with thorns in her feet, dripping orgasmic lust into her champions
Revealing and reveling in her descent to retrieve her consort, her soul, her spirit
Upon the landing in front of the gates of her Dark Sister’s kingdom, she is bared
With defiance only a sister can offer to the darkness within, she stands demanding
Intolerably thrusting her power of persuasive requests until intervention is required
She lays the last of her rosettes, her eight pointed star, at her sister’s feet
Bargain struck, The Lady of Uruk returns to her battled halls in the House of Heaven
The seven gates of the underworld reversed, laid bare of masks and protections
Enthroned within power, she alights with her scepter, a hook shaped twisted knot of reeds
She remains victorious over death, over the underworlds within, over the rape of her holiness

The Coffee Hours Symphony

Our personal music composed itself
on the breezy breaths of our being.
Our eyes blinked in metronome
as we witnessed our lives quietly,
the creak of a knee as it’s repositioned for comfort,
the crumpling of the cushion’s fabric
the way the richly creamed coffee we share
is sipped and swallowed with sensational delight
eliciting murmurs of approval.
You spoke truthfully to me with words
that had no letters, no order, no punctuation,
But every meaning I needed was there.
I heard you. I understood.
You are not alone.
I let out a deep sigh.
Your eyebrow quirked upwards
making a question mark of your eyes.
I smiled half way lost in our song
because it has been sung so often
brought up familiarly during times of great loss
And yet this symphony remains blank of content
consolation filled with the tunes we know by heart.
You place your mug on the table with a wobbly balance
reaching out your hand to hold mine.
Your eyes remove the question reassure me the answer,
that you’re with me; I am not alone.

Get Naked

It would seem that my expectation of spiritual nudity is met with skepticism or anger
Put trust in this vision (which is your own, undiscovered), you’re in no danger
Who you are without labels or signs arranges itself with the setting in your mind blurred
Protecting yourself with the clothing of shame, guilt, and fears of the unkind word.
Set them down. Remove them. Take them off. Unlock the shackles of expectations
Release your shame. Discard your guilt. Turn away from fears; your lamentations.
The ugly words displayed, rescinded of power, like rejected clothes on a clearance rack
The ones returned without receipts, the embracing of personal worth, you get full money back.
Turn your heart on full blast, your eyes gleaming with anticipation like kids on Christmas
Get up off your knees where you’ve been held in fervent prayer to be esteemed as religious
Align your eyes with who you are created to be without excuse, with your modesty lifted
Rip open your shirt like Superman, bare your “S” to declare and expose everything you’re gifted
It’s only then, for those who seek, that you will find a secret world steeped in personal happiness
It’s not for the weak or blundering who hide behind their timid veils of charity waiting for their bliss
It’s for the holy warriors that take on social norms with scratches, bruises and courage as their battle swords

Did you hear the one about…?

 

Let me coax your lips a bit to peak interest at an amusing anecdote.
Let me tease your cheeks higher without using a comb (unless you have a beard).
Let me crinkle the corners of your eyes like cellophane gels colored with humor.
Let me witness your laughter rolling around on your tongue,
snorting a bit up the back of your nose, peppered with a touch of “NO WAY!”
Let me tickle your giggler with half-assed ideas
baked into our conversations with all the sprinkled puns and frosting
we can stuff into our groaning bellies and leaking eyeballs
that drown in our gasps for air, revived by our knee slapping.

Deepest loss

In my experience there has not been a greater loss felt than that of a child.

In my experience there has not been a greater loss felt than that of a child.

I’ve loved you since before you were born
When I saw your face pressed
Like a violet captured
In an ultrasound I no longer have
But cherish as a vivid revered memory
As in fairy tales of old
Many lies were told
And you were stolen and kept far from your home,
from my active loving heart.
And I wept.

I’ve loved you since the papers crumpled
Unused, only to be recycled,
When the death of hope is heard
In the confetti shaped heart
That is irreparable, devoid of cohesion
Bleeding the tears of mourning
That burn with the lies told
The familial curse stood as firmly as a parapet.
And still I wept.

I’ve loved you since I witnessed your slavery
Removed with greed, falsehoods,
Shifting legends of half-truths expressed
Under the guise of protection
Under the threat of theft called the improper noun
Rebuked with abandonment
Suffered the neglect of compassion
A soul reviled, refused encouragement
Violated in every way possible.
I still wept.

I’ve loved you since before I strapped on my armor
To storm the cotton fields wrought with personal terror
With machete drawn high in the air,
Shackles of truth for the liars to wear
Jangling on my hip with keys nowhere to be found.
The hovel proclaimed as his kingdom rotted
From the inside out with starving zombies
Clawing at the doors and windows trying to escape
I saw your fetal position and spirited you away
And we wept.

I’ve loved you since I became your Harriet Tubman,
Your underground railroad to freedom
I sheltered you in loving arms with my heart repaired
Embracing the Old to reject the new wave
At the same time embracing the New and rejecting the old
Hearing your pain mocked, examining trauma
After trauma after trauma after trauma after trauma
And feeling the rebuke of your fears whipped at me
The refusal of your champion for lack of worth
The loss of faith in hope and healing
And I weep.

I loved who I became because of your life
My superhero cape dancing in the wind
As I advocated for the better world that you deserve
As I championed a life with choices once denied you
As I believed in your potential, indulgent of possibilities
Lifting your chin so your eyes could see success
Found with the wings of encouragement
With every required tool available
At the beckoning of your unwilling fingers,
Your imprisoned mind,
Your blinded foresight,
Your despised, abused, and hated body.
You have removed my necessity, discarded my gifts
Refused your glory for the sake of self-loathing
And I weep, but always I will love you.

These Are My People: Louis A. Coleman Jr.

Louis A. Coleman Jr. aka Bapa

Louis A. Coleman Jr. aka Bapa

I once knew a man as powerful as God who stood as tall as a mountain.
When he laughed, and he loved to laughed, the mirth poured like a fountain.
He fought great wars single handedly, always coming out the winner
Then he’d traipse the seas with single bounds and was never late for dinner.
In winter time he’d grow a beard as traveled as any road is long
but when the chill of air subsided he’d return to youthful song.
His strength was legendary, more than Hercules or Babe and Paul,
He knew the moment I was born a legend once and for all
was told to me in lore and stories for this yarn to the next
at campfires round and blazing hot, I was not perplexed
by the history that flowed through me from his bones to my blood
my only wish is to honor him by shining light and doing good.

The Keeper of My Haven

I am the duality embodied in singularity.

The High Priestess and the acolyte.

The washer-woman and the dirty clothes.

The chef and the enthusiastic diner.

The adventurer and the hearth-keeper.

The activist and the apathy.

The zany jester and the serious scholar.

The student and the teacher.

I am the spirit that soars and the feet on the earth.

The divinity and the faulted.

The believer and the doubter.

The questioner and the answer.

The dreamer and the dream.

The acceptor and the challenger.

The debtor and the owed.

I am the courageous and the coward.

The healer and the injured.

The betrayed and the betrayer.

The loyalist and the sneak-thief.

The promise and the impossibility.

I am the locker of doors and the opener of windows.

I am the Keeper of my haven.