Lilac

For a long time I equated being good with being silent

I was told to hold contradictions in my mouth

speak up but stay silent

speak up when you have something to say, but don’t say the truth

don’t speak your fear

speak so you can be heard:

I have a rage inside me which has yet to find its limit

it crawls up my back, claws out my eyes and spills from my mouth

I war with everyone around me

words ripping//eyes tearing the way through my day

I dropped a bottle of perfume

My grandmother gave it to me when I was a child

it smells strong like lilac and it stained the tapestry

I can’t help the smell

and the bottle I kept safe for years is now gone

like the woman who gave it to me

and is that a sign or just a bottle or a combination of the two

a reminder from the ancestors not to forget them, telling me,

sometimes bottles break

when what’s inside needs to be let out

To the White Man Who is No Longer a Part of the Conversation:

I bet it hurts you, doesn’t it?

to think that there is something

in this world which does not

revolve around you

it must shock you to think that

though the fuckery stemmed from you

you are no longer a factor in this equation

I’ve cancelled you out

smudged the edges of

my apartment and

ushered the toxicity

which is your imprint

upon my flesh

out of the building

you are hereby dismissed

do not think for one moment

I am sorry to see you go

you who have fetishized

raped and abused me

crawled between my

bones and my flesh and

leaked out your poison

What really gets me?

you’re convinced this is love

your smugness is nauseating

your certainty preposterous

yet you stay firmly planted

rooted in the rewritten history

you believe is your truth

your blindness is appalling

your presence is threatening

it is time for you

to exit the conversation.

 

Mad as Hell

Cant you see your ignorance brings pain
Over and over and over again?

Tell me, what do you get 

From being an insufferable fucking twit?
I’d smack hard upon your face

If I thought for a second it would make you change
But your ingnorance is so deeply ingrained

It’s not astounding to see you have no shame

Benefiting from bodies lain

Casually in unmarked graves
Where will you be in a hundred years

When all that remains of us are your tears

Trickling down your pale white face

As buildings burn and what’s left of your race
Are sitting on the searing coals

With nothing to eat and only each other to hold?

45

The air is getting louder

Coming in with a harshness 

I don’t remember hearing

It jars me

Lately I have been catching myself 

Grinding my teeth

I will myself to relax

It is an effort.

Maybe sleep isnt an option

My stores have filled up 

Bout to burst

Bout to run on reserve

The right to be a cunt 

Im just saying 

Sometimes its tough

Pretending like you give a fuck

Just so you can earn a buck 

What is it to weep ?

It is a sad poet who has no words to express the feelings welling in their veins, no way to leak out the madness which gathers in the corners of their mind and chambers of their heart. 

How, when the shadow strikes, does a wordless poet allow themself to feel, to weep? When they know it will still live there, roaming through hallways and edging down corridors; timid, ruthless monster. 

It has many names, this monster which has taken up residence within my senses. I call it grief, or loneliness, or abandon. Although, the years have taught me it’s truest incarnation is my old, timeless friend, rage.  

Hazy.


The other night I was sitting at the bar

Talking to a person who I am seeing, but not dating
Because these days, that actually makes a difference

We were talking about the space in between
Where thoughts happen and where they occur

What I mean is, the thought that inspires the thing
And the place where that thing becomes itself

Which is the truth?
Where is the truth?

The truth is in the space between

Which we will never fully grasp
Never quite see or catch
Hazy, but
It is also in the beginning and ending
Truth lives in all three
Birth and death
Life being, of course, the space between

What we can’t see
Where we can’t see

I dreamt I went shopping the other night
I was walking down the aisles of a grocery store
The light was bright, garish
Overwhelming

I couldn’t find what I was looking for
I can never find what I am looking for

I’m the type of person who has difficulty lighting a cigarette
Always standing in the wind, stifling the flame
I strike the flint once, twice, three times before shifting
Positions

Trying again.

Solving for F

Hidden-Figures-13.jpg

My brain has been ticking for months

got me feeling like math class,

pulling my gum, twisting it around my finger

eyes fixed on the page, staring at the problem,

body cemented in angsty agony

praying for the bell to ring

so I can put it aside for another day

begging the universe for more time

to try figure out how to solve for F

Freedom or Facism

or

freedom from facism

How do I balance the equation?

Got me like Taraji in Hidden Figures

up on that ladder

skirt leaning while I sway

I need me a computer

in the form of all those brilliant

rad and mad woc who got us to space

I need to accept that computer is the way to soar

Yeah, I think that is a metaphor

We’ve got to teach us how

to break these chains and fly

We be how we solve for F

Computing, how to Fuck this Shit all the way Up.

Certainty

I ripped up the photo of us

I took it off my altar last week

 I don’t know if I regret it

Ripping it, I mean

I can always print another,

If I want

The pieces landed on my guitar

I don’t think it was intentional

I was feeling petty and small and

Just a little bit trite

I can’t tell if I miss you

I’ve rebuilt the wall around my heart

Only concerning you, and a few other

Unmentionables 

I think it’s going to take me a minute

To come to terms with losing you

I had high hopes for us

My childish view of love and 

Relationships shining through 

I don’t want to have to say goodbye

To be conquered by fate and truths

Too harsh to be faced together

It’s important for us, it would seem,

To divide and conquer

Fate has other plans for us

Maybe we’ll get drunk together one night and

She’ll whisper them in my ear

Explain to me why we came together

Only to fall apart

Unsatisfied.

Unsure.

The StoneCarver

I imagine you covered in dust

soft stone breaking in your hands

as you chip away at it, carve your soul into it

light shines through your hair and

dances in your eyes

playing shadows across your face and

along walls, telling a story

you shape that story into the stone

and, just maybe, a bit of your own

in your heart I think

this is where you’re home.