Verbatim

Should Love taste of quenched quill? Soggy inkwell solace Insatiable parchment Drunk off petty quid pro quos, Cancerous courtships In valiant familial coup Shall we transcend the bullshit martyrdom? Heaven's sake, Should the earth quake at Unaccompanied feet Bare and grounded, Filthy in mother's dirt Soiled dresses, Black bottomed britches Familiar in fancily disrobed Disobedience She is told She comes from "breeding" Never forget that No man could ever be worthy Should he not have A home, a car, financial security... Far too robust to request Reciprocated interest, trust, Emotional vulnerability I am a poet, Therefore my heart has long since been courted A mere whisper, A flutter of blank pages Black stains upon a calloused right ring finger I have loved and lost myself Amidst the fog of many midnight hours Stretched across the length of lovers' necks Delicately adorned in soft raven tresses Tracing collarbones to a garden of goosebumps and forbidden rendezvous S

To all of the mothers who wonder  If they should be more strict or fun or  If they’re raising a kind enough daughter or son I’m here to tell you, You’re doing just fine.  — Fuck society and what’s wrong or right  For 8-9 months we held them inside  we know them better than anyone else,  That’s why..  you have to give yourself more credit.   — Even on those days where you feel like breaking down  When your mind is Full of questions and your heart is full of doubt  You yelled at them out of frustration and now you can’t sleep without  Wanting to cry.  I know mama.  It’s hard  Working all day and coming home to another job  Homework and cooking and bath time  Good god! Does it end?  And after the meltdowns they finally fall asleep, and you almost feel guilty for that sigh of relief  Because you finally get a moment to sit down and breathe.  We all have the same 24 hours my ass  Aka a mom when’s the last time she didn’t come last  Ask a mom the last time someone cooked her a meal  Helped h

Break bread with me  Do you wanna break bread with me?   While we talk about the good and the bad endlessly  Timidly I search for the vocabulary to explain my loneliness feeling the emptiness in my chest cavity Adventures with friends fill it the best, Running till the end with them so I could never rest, talk about it all till I have no breath For when I do depressed death can’t catch up and remind me of my inadequacies.  I want those table top conversations over roasted marshmallows with a couple Dutch fellows Worry? I think not problems seem to only come with deeper thought when we work through it I’ll never lose it though  The memories that incredibly weaves the tapestry in the grand design of my mind. trying to explain this feeling feels easier writing rhymes and these conversations appear to be like poetry I’ve been gracefully tiptoeing on the edge of falling apart but thanks to our art I remember to breathe at the park after dark to bring me back from the edge.  My craving for

When I look in the mirror I see everything but beautiful  I stare at myself and wonder who this stranger is in front of me.  I no longer recognize myself anymore Stressed stands of my hair tango in the porcelain sink  Luggage under my eyes from lack of pillow and blanket intimacy  Curves once flaunted, hidden under baggy T-shirt’s  Pale gray skin from lack of sunlight  Bright green eyes are now shattered store windows.  Heart cold and barren, mimicking the shelves during a pandemic.  I allowed others to riot inside of my soul and overthrow my mind.  I am lost and broken but my friends see me and think I’m fine.  They see me smile through painted lips, feel the warmth from my embrace, eyes full of cheer they don’t realize that the girl they love no longer lives here.  She’s out there somewhere, wandering aimlessly, waiting to be found.  Maybe one day I’ll find her but first I have to get my feet to hit the ground.

You are beautiful. You remind me of someone I cared for deeply but only in a dream. Someone who would sing to me when the stars were in perfect alignment. Someone who would write poetry in my skin. Someone who'd dance circles in my eyes. But death stole thy dream in the morning sun when the clouds were full and bright. memento mori. It follows us making sure we're safe. It is a friend that none hope to meet but we all end up at the same picnic. Their eyes were those of the ocean, strong, vast and deep and your eyes are that of the ground, deep, full of life and wild. But I have never been to the beach, perhaps this ocean is but a dream and nothing more. Yet here I stand on the earth, both feet to the ground so that I can dance and spin and leap. For maybe it is not the waters that I wish to wade in but the grass I long to love in

FUCK! Now shit didn’t that feel good? Is it profanity or vanity? Because sometimes being a lady is profane… But men are the ones who lay the claim of a women’s veins. If I bleed too hard, become too loud, and don’t appear too dainty, I impose those who don’t know, what it’s like to be alone. Someone who is lost in the balance. As mad as the Hatter and as curious as Alice. I often question, will the pain ever go way, The headache that washes over the ocean in my mind. And for fucks sake, I’m angry! Or sad maybe… pissed? Or off my shit. I bite my tongue when I wish to bite my thumb at you sir. Or you my lady. How I wish to pick a fight, Even though I don’t want to see the sight, Of myself in that light. My heart races, because I know that 9 times out of 10 the cases of, Skins, flesh wounds, and beatings are quieter,  than the love of, Big tits and phat asses. Oh how I wish to be a trophy, classy a bit sassy and over all a yeah KNOWN! But no. I REEK, No not my smell gentle lads and

She don't like me for my heart. She don't like me for my mind. She just likes me for mi carne that she uses every time she wants… And I can't say nooo My pants drop... whenever she say sooooo I don't like being used, unless it's this chica using me… amigos say that she should stop abusing me But I say, baby don't go…. ...bbbbaby gimme some mo'... Yo quiero mas but you say no, y baby yo comprendo  Oh oh  I don't like that you only call me when you need sex  but I still need you to call me when you want that next. We don't spend no holidays, just the late nights. And I only take you to my bedroom for date nights. Es possiblé that I am just a piece of meat. Gave you the whole thing, but you just want a piece of me. In the future? It's whole enchilada Instead of a whole lot of nada  I'm your papi, not your Father.

So it’s finally Christmas time. Xmas time if you’re nasty. The time of year where we all come together, put aside our differences, exchange gifts and enjoy each other’s’ company. Yeah we’re not doing that this year. Look let’s be real here. Even at the best of times Christmas is a simmering powder keg of rage and misery. We all travel on shitty red eye flight to go half way across the country to hang out with relatives we never talk to, sing crappy songs about reindeer, and go into poverty buying gifts for old ass grandparents who despite having lived through about twenty different social equality movements still keep calling the neighbors down the street “the blacks.” And why do we keep doing this year after year? Isn’t this a religious holiday? Hell, I’m sure half this country ditched Christianity and switched to Norse religion when Marvel cast Tom Hiddleston and his devilish sexy charm as Loki. But for some reason we still have to get together every December to celebrate when

It felt like kismet The first time our lips met Electric currents Like lightning igniting velvet Souls touch through the poetry of silent hands Fingertip sonnets along my arms and back Whispering reverent volumes upon sacred lands Celestial bodies fluent in atlas clouds No strangers to the storm Still addicted to the sounds Of flow Of warmth giving glow Salted earth thawing beneath layers of snow You taste of springtime And happiness I've never known Flowers unfold to the moisture of our breath Blossoms begin to undress 'Til nectar tongue and quaking stem Are all that's left Escape from winter's bite Into a collection of stolen summer nights How heat rises like the gleam of distant desert lights Bodies glistening in unknown constellations Stars aligned in hearts like ours unmoved Prove that even the hands of fate can discover new sensations