Category Archives: Poetry

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.

The un-Magic wand

I'd use my magic wand to wipe away your tears and I wouldn't poke you in the eye either.

I’d use my magic wand to wipe away your tears and I wouldn’t poke you in the eye either.

I wish I could ease your suffering, your pain, your mourning,
Your torment, your misery, your carnage, your still-borning
Your aches, your troubles, your sorrows, your grief,
Your concerns, your tragedies, your anger, your disbelief,
Your frustrations, your mistrust, your anguish, your maledictions,
Your depression, your illness, your sorrows, your rejections,
Your distress, your worries, your hardship, your fears
Your losses, your injuries, your silence, your tears.
But I can’t.
I could offer you platitudes end upon end
“I understand.”
“I’ve been there.”
“It’ll be all right, man.”
But I won’t and it won’t. Not now.
I could hug you tightly and stroke your hair.
“It’s okay.”
“You’ll get through it.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
But I’d be a liar, not your emotional crutch
You’re contagious to me when you hurt that much.
I can only be me holding true to the end
“Do you need a lift up?”
“Need to talk?”
“I’m your friend.”
And that is what it is
As a matter of fact
“I’m here.” I say
And I won’t change that.

These Are My People: Peacock Feathers

Peacock Feathers

Peacock Feathers

From her lips, anguish spewed

like a witch’s window skewed

Hurricanes of self pity storms

Anchors of the loveless mourned

Eden justified with words then spoken

Taking up arms, to mend the broken.

The potent omens

the yet sung dirge

balked faith healers

faithful purge.

Sacrifice

When I was growing up, military was a part of our family. My dad was a Seabee (Construction Battalion), later, my brothers joined the Army and the Marines. My Grandfather and great Grandfather were both Army. It was just accepted that to serve the United States of America was a great honor. My family was lucky enough to have our boys brought back home safely. For that I am grateful.

But there are those like this: “I have a POW/MIA bracelet that bears the name of a Michigan Marine that never came home. Robert Curtis Borton Jr. Missing since 1966 during his first few weeks in Vietnam. Please think of his family that lost him and the future he never had.”–Ron Martell

I wrote this with them in mind.

Sacrifice

The bagpipes howl

“Amazing Grace”

Drums beat hollow

21 shots placed

The blackened sky

hangs its veil

The heavens give

a hero’s hail

to fallen comrade

man of war

from his daughter

and wife he’s torn

by seductive tendrils

of patriotic pride

under red, white, and blue

his final goodbye

Spirit Tribe, I call you

Artist: Jenica "Hen" Fredrickson A member of my Spirit Tribe heeded my call.

Artist: Jenica “Hen” Fredrickson
A member of my Spirit Tribe heeded my call.

Spirit Tribe, I call to you with the words of a starving human
I am greedy for your attention to my withering roots
Water me with your colors spilling freely
Reach out with your own inspiration
That is begging release from drought.
Wrap yourself in a wet paper towel
That offers just enough moisture for you
To find me clinging to the smallest sprinkle
Of disconnection from your creativity
From that bond that unites the visionaries
Because of our hidden tendencies to obscure
Our innermost desires to run naked
Through the streets covered in kaleidoscopes
Spirit Tribe, I beckon you forth from your dream-world
I am but a pool reduced to a drop, withering
Spring forth with your overflow to spread unhindered
Release your inhibitions so that you may find what you seek
Let me spill my ideas, beliefs, fanaticism on you
Like hot coffee or iced tea that brings deepest refreshment
Put on your brightest clothing without fear
That builds up your unique version of yourself
Into full fruition. Seek and you will find me
Waiting for the touch of your brush on the canvas
Believing in your mastery of your own vision
Twirling like a dervish to the music we’ll create
With words and paints and sounds unheard and unheeded
Disregarded by those who can’t see the world as we do
Dismissed by the gardeners as weeds to be pulled
From a society that at its best is ugly with stained beliefs
But at its best is a tribute to resilience, tolerance, and power.
Spirit Tribe, I beat my drum to hail your arrival
My confetti sits untouched in a bucket by my door
Waiting to shower you with praises for your bravery
Longing for your belief in yourself to find its way to me
Believing that every feeling you can create into tangibility
Is a gift that’s been wrapped for too long as an unsent package
Knowing that I will gladly accept you as my own
Because we already understand the ways of things
We already “get” the planes, shapes, patterns, styles
And we can’t help but feel lost because there are no ties
That bind us to the material plane when we are free to be
Who we are with abandoned shadows stepping into the light
Open your floodgates, remove the starvation for your beauty
Evaporate my longing for our bonding in the name of art
Come, my Spirit Tribe. Heed my call and come.

These Are My People: Oshun Avani

http://www.monzeeki.com/ New York, New York Photographer Monzeeki

http://www.monzeeki.com/
New York, New York
Photographer
Monzeeki

Just for today,
I will honor the knees at which I kneel
Taking preservation in wisdom dripped
From oceans of tears and millions of stars.

Just for today,
I will offer my actions without expectation
To those who suffer poverty in all ways
In their bodies, in their actions, in their spirits.

Just for today,
I will be grateful as I prepare my meals
Mindful of the preparation in my hands
Filling plates with sustenance, love, laughter.

Just for today,
I will hold a my tongue from anger
Keeping tolerance at the forefront of my mind
Defending against injustice with a considered heart.

Just for today,
I will hold the brothers and sisters of my spirit tribe
With compassion and kindness in the Light
That guides us to one another in graceful exchange.

These Are My People: Ben Stotler

Yule 2008

Yule 2008

I know that you love me.
I feel it on my skin, in my skin, like my skin
In my spirit, through my spirit, with my spirit;
Snaking its way through my body
Like my breath and blood.
Unashamed to explore the recesses of my reflections
Sorting through my sacred spaces like a wild child on a spending spree.
Moving forward even when encouraged strongly to turn back!
Turn back and don’t look at that pile of filth, of lies, of dastardly deeds
Stacked in the furthest corners that I disguise with masks,
Masks that vulgar people disregard with acceptance.
You refuse my please with tenderness and compassion.
You gently pull back the world I keep hidden beneath my bravado.
You don’t cringe.
You don’t run.
You just coax me from beneath my veil,
Encouraging me to seek the day with a new, braver face.
That which is my own, truly my own.
Because of this trust you’ve established with me
In an agreement of lifelong complexity,
I comply with the oxymoron of trepidational courage.
And this, my love, is how I know without a doubt that you love me.