PAD #23: For "It Girls" (Women in the spotlight)

When our pain becomes so good to others, that it eclipses our true purpose...

The masses will worship us
with fawning gazes and saccharine praise.
We are most beautiful when we are
broken.
Brilliant when the pain sings
the ballad of a betrayed heart.
Our struggle is a splendid wine,
sipped slowly.
Savored between lips
that eclipse all truth and spin
us as fantasy.
Our flesh and blood is not
sexy enough for real life.

It's the price we pay
for being ingenious.
Goddesses beaming upon
the poor souls too blighted
in their ignorance.
Indifferent to the blows dealt,
to shape these Earthen vessels of desire.
Enamored with our grace
reaped through suffering
that births humility.
Finding our witticism sparkling
Never understanding the edge
has been honed by our inability to cry anymore.
So we laugh and make light of life.
It's too hard to weep, when water
is bought at such a high cost.

We accessorize agony
with charming smiles and wicked stilettos.
Strut with burdens balanced
on our supple spines.
Align our shoulders with the stars
and wear the shimmer casually.
Only a diva could be so carefree
with worry eating at the wounds.
Encircling our womb like a granite fist.
We spit gravel on mics,
and you call it shine.

Our love is a cage of azure peacock feathers.
Fury a forked tongue shrew
french kissing your soul.
We make heartbreak look gorgeous
decored in bloody velvet and lace.
Convince you the reason
you are here is to receive.
But we are possessing your minds
and spirits as collateral.
Profiting from your pathetic attempts
to gate us with expectations.
Of course you dream of us.
Sirens stealing your heartbeat.
Words tongue tripping each
vertebrae until you call ours names in the dark.
We saw you cum when we were not there.

Tasting your oily adoration.
You attempted to mask the musk
of your jealously.
Deliberately, we fuck with you.
Each stanza carves at your mind.
The prose penetrates your private
places.
This violation is good to you.
The way you wish your idolatry were good to us.
When you applaud our pain.
Ignore the pleas for compassion.
Disregard our humanity and sup
from the table of our damnation.
Our troubles delight you,
and you snap your fingers and demand more.

We are the word whores.
Place pennies in our pussies
and it will produce rainbows.
Wrap you in golden swaths of light.
Transcend you, and for a moment
you rest in nirvana.
Mary Magdalene of the moment.
The "It Girl" radiant, in your
narrow spotlight.
We make you clap for it.
Yearn for it.
Spend five bucks every night for it.
Bankrupt your brains for it.
Our head game is Freudian mixed
with Nietzschean.

How else can we serve you?

When the moon blows out and the stardust settles
We are a fragment of that ethereal being
Women of fragile bone, and resilient heart
Wanting nothing but our voices
and to be accepted as

Ourselves.

PAD #22: Today

For two days I have neglected
the world.
Turned inward and regarded
the mess that has become my life.
Part of me, does not know
how I got here.
Another, knows damn well
I have been a long time crumbling.

I am not broken,
but there are fissures in my soul.
Fault lines waiting to widen
with the next hurt.
Emotional meltdowns when
my hands and mind are not busy.
I tried to avoid home,
and found myself standing on corners.
Crying.
This is when I lost myself.

Tears come like intermittent downpours.
I am never prepared.
I can't stop the spills,
and maybe many more will fall
before this is done.
Stage faces were meant
to be washed off at some point.
I look very human right now.

I will stop apologizing
for all that I am not.
For having feelings.
Stop listening to those
who are not inside my head.
Take this one step at a time.
Reclaim my life and remain
brave enough to be this woman
whose blood is a river of fires
searching for the eternal sea.

PAD #20: Expose

Because you will gnaw my name
between your teeth.
Nosedive into the shadows of my world
in search of scraps.
Hold your breath for my
public exhalation.
Triumph in my troubles
and hope I will break and hide.
I write this poem for you.

You longed for us to fail
from the beginning.
Could not accept our love
for its reality.
I don't expect you to recognize,
what you have never known.
We could not fake the gazes,
the smiles, the love making, and
conversations past midnight,
the hand holding, and touching foreheads.
The sighs and the pain.

Our evidence was too faulty
for the flawed.
You searched for cracks
in the wall of our union.
Our wine was too sweet for
you to intrude on our communion.
Bitter is the woman who covets
the love of another sister.
Guile is the man who speaks
doubt in his brother's ear about his woman.
You smiled weakly in my face,
spoke directly to my man.
Offended he did not waste
a glance on you.
You could never replace me.
My reality would fade you
leaving only regrets that
you are not ME.

I am overwhelmed and juggling
a job, college and a relationship
on the rocks.
When there is love, but it's not
enough to make all things right.
Confused and needing the space
to think and retreat.
I am skeptic of my art and
angry at myself for not
following my dreams.
Not living up to the standards I deserve.
No one has hurt me more than myself.
I am nobody's victim, but I do know
the violation of a public view.

Fuck you, if you believe
I should be more than human right now.
Forgiving to those that mean me ill.
Bury any beefs that deserve to be
cattle to the slaughter.
For believing my consciousness,
means I won't curse you out or condemn you.
It's no easy task to be a Legacy, in a world
of energy vampires and zombies.
Bitch, you follow where I lead
even when you don't want to.

I am not afraid to bleed before you.
My life has always been open.
I grow stronger from your criticism,
and your inability to hurt me.
I am teflon, and you are
the bullets that failed to meet their target.
Adjust your bulls-eye and kill yourself.
Die to the pathetic creature you are,
and resurrect as a life with purpose.
The world needs more of me,
and less creatures like you.
Do the divine math, and see
if you could attempt to balance the equation.

My woes are war stories for women
who fight with teeth and heart.
Victorious because I can write my pain,
and still be open to love.
Not bitter and broken.
This volcano has awoken,
and the smoke is a sign of life.
For you it is a warning.
Be careful what you say,
because lava burns fierce and slow.
I am not sleeping...
I am not sleeping...
I am awake and ready to
Blow.

PAD #19: Back Again (Ocean)

I.

Here we are again,
hurting.
So broken and fighting tides
of bitterness.
Swallowing the axis of our hearts
and colliding in our souls.
A musical tempest.
Harmonies destroyed in the
downward pull.

II.

I fled into your ocean.
Hoping to be swept away from the shores.
Discovering you have been drifting too.
Shattered on the unkind rocks
as the seagulls pick at your ribcage.
The marrow in my lovely bones are chilled.
I needed the warmth of your flesh
to remind me I am still alive.

III.

You are virtuoso at mastering my pain.
Blending the vibrato of our heartbreaks.
Creating resonance from the dissonant beats
and break them into arias in my belly.
Chanting your name in ascending octaves
until I am breathless.
You scaling every arch of my body
Tuning me to your curvature.
Your staff striking my deep chords
My soprano shreds the darkness.
Encore, please.

IV.

The chaotic waves,
dwindle to soft currents.
We become reflective pools
mirroring vulnerability.
So beautiful.
Hearts just like the ocean.
Vast as the hurts we harbor.
Stranded together.
Awaiting the tide
to drown us once more.

PAD #13: The Spirit Beautiful

We have been taught to stand before mirrors
in judgment.
Condemning every curve, roll and dimple of flesh.
Breasts heavy with the yearning to be free
of their burdened hearts.
When was the last time you found yourself beautiful,
Woman?

We are strident slashes on neutral canvases.
These bodies do not fit into ideal figures.
Failing imitations of media mannequins.
Rife with thinner and thicker than thou complexes.

If we are different
Our celebrations are more like martyrdom.
When courage is stronger than manipulation.
Society will grapple our identity, fondle our confidence
and co-opt our sensuality.
Strip and display it like
young women on poles.
Bone, blood and supple flesh
offered to indolent eyes.
Beauty is for the bartering
and there is no self value on the stage.

When are we going to come off the stroll?
Stop painting ourselves garishly or
fade lackluster.
Cease being walking ads for every product
claiming to induce beauty.
Producing nothingness
in the nexus of our beings.
How gorgeous is the girl
who knows her own soul?
Is not afraid to live by her heart
and not in the sight of others.
Radiating the natural glow of a woman
In love with herself.

Naked to no one, but myself
I brave the mirror.
Accept the imperfect reflection,
knowing this body is beautiful.
Battle scars like sacred hieroglyphs.
Soft parts like rose petals on pillows.
An earthen vessel filled with
the wine of life and brilliance unbearable.
The Spirit Beautiful.

napowrimo #11

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napowrimo 10

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Napowrimo # 9

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NaPoWrimo #8: Unusual Love Poem

With only 15 minutes to spare until midnight...

Certain men in my life have been
cell phones with all the bells and whistles
That takes a splash and suddenly malfunctions.
Or any overpriced electronic diversion
That can't handle the accidental spills of life.

A pair of socks,
Going threadbare too quickly.
Leaving my heels and toes exposed.
You bargain bin buy, you.
Not worth the dime I spent
inside your thin cotton.
You never came clean after the wash.

The gorgeous red lily I bought that died after two days.
All decoration, and no growth.
Watering will kill any living thing
That does not know how to receive
nourishment.

I am accident prone.
You are the no fault insurance
after the damage is done.
No coverage, no compensation
for injuries incurred during involvement.

The men I have loved could be
cheap stilettos.
Sharp, sexy and fun.
Until stepping into the cracks
of the sidewalk.
The sole quickly wears down
and leaves me sore.

A Payless pick
will never be a Manolo Blahnik.
I love shoes, but next time I will shop
for better support.
Choose reliable men as accessories
to match.
No BOGO's allowed when it comes to
my heart.

NaPoWriMo #7: Love (Funny Side Up)

We laughed hooting like
crazed owls mocking poets

Your dimples caved in
My giggles kept them cratered
Our smiles wide as sunrise

NaPoWrimo #6: Whorey Angel (after Betty Davis)

She was a big freak!
A million orgasms
Moaning a bitches brew
Inside Miles head.

Brown and sweet as sugar cane.
She roared and hissed
throbbing fire over bass lines.
Heart between her legs
Sighing serpents from her lips
Licking gun fire funk and
writhing on guitar riffs.
Riding rhythms like a lusty
banshee wailing her soul.

They say she was different...
No, Betty was a bad mama
Afro funky and unashamed
To be Kali fierce and Aphrodite
risque.
Blistering sexpots and leaving men
smoldering in her wake.

Be careful, or she'll beat you
with that turquoise chain and
lay claim to your soul.
If you're in luck, she might be your
nasty gal for a night.
But baby she won't love you
Cuz she is a
Woman.

Naprowrimo prompt #5: Jazzy Belle

You are the only woman I have implored
for mercy.
Attempted to gain your affection
through subservience.
Ingenious, petulant Goddess.
Mocking me with your silence.
Kept me up beyond midnight
Chanting abstract words as a summons.
It delights you to abandon me.
My despair whets your feral appetite.
Licking artful fingers with a malicious grin.
This is our sadistic flirtation.

You thankless whore.
Unfaithful in your musings.
Requiring my blood and guts decor your alter.
Idolatry is your intoxicant.
Sip my worship slowly so that it slides
smoothly down your honeyed throat.
Tasting the arcane lies twined in your kiss.
I am impotent against your searing truths.

It pleases you to bruise my ego
& batter my confidence.
I love you despite this torment.
If only to gain your favor
When I write something worthy.

I wait on you, wanton lover.
Return to my bed and these sheets
will burn as the witches of old.
Desires as ancient as Sanskrit
slashed down your back.
Your breathe a Celtic mist
in my ears.
A symphony of one million crickets
against the snare of our hearts.
My tongue circling every cleft.
Until the notes shatter moonlight
and candle wax on parchment.
I thirst for you as the last
tear that falls from your mystic eyes.

Sun rise will find me alone
Consumed after our communion
Thoughts genuflecting at your memory.
The sheets disarrayed carelessly
As my heart in your palms.
You will leave a fire in my belly
& a twitching in my fingers.
I will write you another poem
Always waiting for your return.


Poetry.

Napowrimo prompt #4: Inside Out

It lies upon the floor
In a congealing pool of crimson
Wetly vulnerable
Unflinching before my sickened gaze.
Unable to escape judgment
The inevitable foot that will stamp it.

My heart.

Exposed to sunlight.
To every eye it would hide from.
I can't force it back in my chest.
It is obscene in it's slick, organic beauty.
Brazenly lying in the open.
Daring me to pick it up.
Reclaim it and make it safe again.

Hands tremble.
Ribs constrict around empty space.
I am so hollow.
I taste the blood on my tongue.
Tucking the screams in my cheeks.
Ordering tear ducts
To offer no merciful dew
To this traitor.

Outside, people pass by.
Unaware of this trauma.
Inside, I stare in mute horror
At my rebellious heart.
Knowing it will never be safe again.

Napowrimo prompt #3; Fears

I am afraid of leading a life of mediocrity.
Falling short of the promise of my potential.
Never fulfilling my purpose.
These thoughts keep me up at night
When I am unable to create.

No one wants to be accused of unoriginality.
Every artist wants to feel inventive and dynamic.
Contributing something unique and rich to the legacy of the arts.
Sometimes I feel as if I am a decent by product
Of every poet and writer I have admired.
After all, it is their influences that have informed me.
Even if I write about "life."

God, would it be shallow to request that
Someone remember me?
Find a reason to live, to change because of my words?
I know I am only a vessel
Cracked, bleeding and unable to contain my measure at times...
I sincerely want to be of use...
To this world.

These are the quiet fears.
Collecting in the corners of my conscious
Creeping in the shadows of this office
Sighing in bed between me and my lover
The frustration and anguish
That sharpens my tongue
Fraying my nerves.
I don't want to speak their reality aloud.
It's prettier when I frame them in prose.

Perhaps, there is a running list of things
I should fear.
Being afraid is not in my genetic make up.
I cannot bare the deep nothingness
Of living without being light.
So I will challenge the sun
Until I overcome all doubt.
Live and never entertain
being less than the measure of my own greatness.

Napowrimo Prompt #2: Right Wing Porn

It's the ultimate stimulus package
For these hard times.

Watching politicians masturbate themselves into legislative frenzy.
Bust!

There goes one over the peoples' heads and they waited
For universal health care as millions of Americans die
Of poor health and mistreatment.

Obama finally gets it in and makes the Republicans go limp dick.
There is no extenze of compassion for the citizens.
Working class is too soft core.

No public option, baby.
We prefer our rape overs in private still.

The Pubs like it raw, hard and fast.
No mercy as they jerk off in our faces.
Splash!
Another headline for the horny media.
All hot and ready to deliver the thrust
In our violated brains.

We are hooked on their lies
Like lines of heroines.
Sniffing the bullshit off the backs of our hands.
Laying prone to those in power.
Pounding our souls bareback.
There is no latex capable of
protecting our futures.

Our rights are up for the raping.
We are bent over, face down in our indignities.
Our tears and blood, the ideal lubrication.
Our protests prolongs the fucking.
It's better when we scream our agony.
A good fight always excites a pervert.
Getting shafted until
We split open and rot in the shadows
Of a glaring White House
Rich from our crimson deaths.

The ultimate stimulus package for their hard times.

America, you are such an awesome
Fuck.

Napowrimo Prompt#1: Shuffle Poem

This Place (Church of Today) - Kem
Do You Only Wanna Dance? - Mya
Goodfellas - Nas & Cormega
City of Gods - AZ
Umi Says - Mos Def
________________________

This place, church of today
Is a sanctuary pillaged of all meaning
The spirits of the people have fled
Searching for salvation in Shango's groove
Twisting torsos to the sun
Toes digging into the black Earth
Flashing bodies of lightening


Do you only wanna dance?

The ancestors sing a hot blood ballad
Shingling our flesh with rhythm
Throbbing pulses, pounding like the ocean
Umi says
We are a people of fire
Dancing flames in the city of Gods

We abandon our ghettos
Leave oppression in the gutters
Give the gritty streets
and gunclap back to the goodfellas
For we are at peace with our true selves
Free, beyond all understanding.