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Gestures

4/12/2020

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Gestures
They met at the pier by the Brooklyn Bridge.
Her tears and his regret,
Her disappointment and his memories.
She needed to talk,
He needed to see her
But 
They sat.
Quietly.
A "remember when" trailed from her thoughts.
"How did we" faded from his lips.
She sat
So still that her heartbeat
Took on precious sound to him.
Her silence had always been
Filled with the story of them.
He sat
So tense that she could barely
Breathe for fear that she would 
Say the wrong thought.
Think the wrong emotion.
Him, tense, had always
Reflected the story of them.
Their words were not meant for the sunlight,
For the soft breeze,
For the rocks so carefully laid 
At the bank of the river.
Their words were not meant to fill the same air as the laughing children,
As the joy of summertime
Embracing  them.
Marking her fear of what might come next
Circling his nervousness of what came before.
She remembered when he looked on her with--
Had that been adoration?
Impossible adulation,
Dare he say
That she had once worshipped him.
He needed to talk
She needed to see him.
But
They sat,
In silence.
He on one end of the bench trying so hard
Not to stare, she wouldn't,
Look at him.
But she wanted to speak
Except he would
Expect her to say the first word.
Words that had never been said between them.
On the park bench, 
He was poised for flight
As she curled into the memories of
What they had meant to each other.
Before
He spoke.
"I've tried," he said, "to forgive you."
"But I can't," she whispered.
Her eyes damp with tears
That he would never shed.
And so they sat 
Anxious feet kicking sand,
Covering memories,
Walking away 
Even as they looked at each other,
Seated on the park bench.
He unaware.
She unaware
As people walked the park around them.
She struggled
For the words again,
"I can't"
"Forget," he said
As she wondered if she would ever 
Find the courage 
Would he find the courage
To talk about that single moment
When everything between them changed.

​
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My Muse

4/4/2019

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You have inspired me
With your sweet nature
Smooth words and intense desire
For me.
You make me want to
Sleep, dream, live, breath in you.
Which is why you have me
Hands down,
No questions asked,
Without limitations,
Nothing, not one damn thing,
Standing in your way.
You make me want to say
Yes
Definitely
Of course
Anything
Cause you got me like that
Written, drawn, marked, shaped, sculpted
Created, imagined, realized
Specifically for you and only you.
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After Brown vs.

4/4/2019

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When I think of everything that my mother endured
To desegregate a public restroom
Or the horrors heaped on my fathers
For attempting to level an everybody field;
When I think of what my uncles bore
Just to sit in an equal school desk
And all the pain my aunts withstood
To gain the respect of a titled name;
When I think of the fact that
Someone spit on nine from Arkansas
and offered death to a little Bridges
When I think of the day to day violations and violence
That people still living are asked to bury deep inside them
--suck it up—and walk beside their tormentor,
Abuser, murderer—attempted but failed;
When I think of the shameful past that people
Black like me
Traveled through with the courage to
Live and eat and breathe next to their nemesis.
I can’t help but imagine
What it must be like for them.
What must it be like to know the very
Child you shoved in English class
In hate of their blackness
Sits across from you in a boardroom
Reminding you of that senseless violence,
The student you 2, 4, 6, 8,
And threatened to hang in hate
Is now the neighbor who watches out for your house
Or the teacher who stands before your child
Reminding you of how much you supported
Segregation then, segregation now, segregation forever..
What must it be like to ask God to forgive you
Because you got caught up in the moment
And watched that nigger hang.
You got swept up in the crowd
And almost hung your own damn nigger
A secret that must be cancerous, deadly waiting, inside you.
What must it be like to see the world
A damn, a-changing
Changes that made you willing to kill
To keep from happening.
Must be why you like to say you were just a child
You were hating like the sign of the times.
Well, your victims were children too
And you can’t take back the damage
You gifted to them.
What must it be like to be you
To live knowing what you did
To bury your guilt knowing that you
Never had to apologize or right wrongs
Cause the laws changed with the expectation
That your victim would just get over it,
Say thank you and move on.
Whew! Thank God you caught a break, that is
If you can look in the mirror
And not remember—even if no one else saw you--
That you stood right there in the crowd
And raised your voice to offer death by
Beating, lynching, shooting, burning, beating
Cause any nigger who asked to be treated equally
Didn’t deserve to live.
What must it be like to be you
Filled with guilt and shame,
Knowing that one day you will pay
Societal times or not, child or not
You will pay a price for the lives you stole,
The hearts you broke, the spirits you crushed.
My God
What must it be like to be you
To know that everything you were willing to do
To stop progress
Will be the very things on which you will be
Judged and sentenced.
And the only comfort left for you is the hope
No prayer
That your judgment comes from a God
Whose ability to show mercy
Far out-measures the mercy you failed to show.
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Just Believing

6/17/2018

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He put His finger on my soul
And called me by a different name
Then welcomed me home
Because, He said, I believed.

He told me His Son Jesus
Would call me sister mine
And a member of His temple I would be.
Of myself I was not
For to Him I belonged
Because, He said, I believed.

He created me from Love
And shed Blood to set me free
Then gave me Heaven
Because I believed.

What must I do, I asked my Father
To live my life with You
To show the world that forever
I am Yours?
What works should I work
Or miracles perform
So that those who see me
Are seeing You?

Child, He began, when will you understand
The love that you give
I gave to you.
In my house you’ll help your sister
And lend what your brother needs.
Whoever calls I promise
You will be there.
Don’t you know when I welcomed you
You took on all I AM
That before you asked you received?
I do not need your reasons
To give My gifts to you
I gave because you believed.
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Why It’s You

6/17/2018

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You see me.
That's what makes it so easy
This falling for you.
You look into what makes me ugly
And call me beautiful.
You laugh at just the right time
Because you find me amusing.
You enjoy me.
My attitude, my bossiness,
My tough side, my sexiness.
You look at me and smile
As if everything you see
All that I appear to be
All that I am
Is all right with you.
You look at me
Past my fortress strong outside
To my soft-for-you center.
You ease past all my barriers
With just a sweet smile
Because you look at me
And you see ME
A woman of worth
And honor and beauty
And humor and sensuality.
You see me
Past my anger at you
Past my quick-tempered words
Until you look at me
And say just the right words
To make my mad at you
Turn into a hunger for your voice,
Your smile, your touch.
You look at me
And you see ME
And the way you see me
Makes me feel as if
Finally
I've met someone
Who accepts
The less than perfect
But always striving
Daring woman, hopeful child
That makes me, ME.
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he got me

6/17/2018

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he got me. Again
talkin smooth words and sweet nothins
whisperin bout all what makes him different.
He be a real man
Commitment-bound, forever-sound
In the type of love he like to give.
He lookin for a woman
Just. Like. Me.
Independent. Outspoken. Confident.
Cause I'm past-written
But future-defined.
Oh wait and I mustn't forget
Can I get a ring size, he says
And I, foolishly, let my heart trip
Just a little.
Yeah, I got all caught up in thinking
Is he the one?
Please, God, let him be the one.
Oh, he was the one all right,
Lyin bastard.
He turn out to be
Just. Like. Them.
Men who made—I'd never—promises.
I'd never leave you, hurt you,
Be like the rest.
I'd never promises filled with nothin but lies
Singin songs like
Why women act like all men the same
Cause see, I'm different, he says.
Yeah, he mighta walked in different
But his ass looked real familiar when he left.
I'll admit.
he got me. Real. Good.
Reminding me that even the smartest woman
Can be played a fool.
Again.
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a woman’s lot

6/17/2018

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when I tole dat man, I'se pregnant
he run so fast, he fly
he say, he wudn't comin' back
tole me good luck and good-bye

so then I says Betty,
what should I do?
that so-called friend uh mine says
Johnny done been here too.

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Wager

6/17/2018

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White man say,

Boy, the worlds a-changing
we got blacks in white schools
we got black men serving justice
black women changing rules.

On the bus, you sit in the front
go to the counter for your chow
you can even share our sidewalk
why, things're much better now.

We've stopped raping black women
for our pleasure and our sport.
We even shake your hand
and let you testify in court.

We took you out of cotton fields
gave you decent work to do.
We even let you vote for us
to rule America for you.

We gave you money, gave you homes
even fed your family.
We done right by you, boy
We treat you properly.

We ruled against the lynchings
even protected you from fools
who sought to beat and batter you
for simply going to school.

We financed your poets
and heard the black men play
even heard the ladies sing
and listened to you pray.

All these things we did for you
and you talk of blacks in jail;
you call it white conspiracy
against the dying black male.

You tell me that on TV
all you see is blacks on drugs
blacks with guns, committing crimes
and lying in their blood.

You talk about your people
being arrested for being black
all because the land was white
on the other side of the tracks.

You go on about watchful eyes
that follow you in the store,
wonder about your money source
then eye you out the door.

You like to blame the white man
only looking at the bad
but he gave you freedom, rights, your life
he gave you all you have.

What say you boy now that you know
what the white man gave
you should be glad he took you
from that savage African cave.

The black boy sat and thought awhile
about now, being free
and said, all these you say you gave
but who took them from me?
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Fetish

12/25/2017

1 Comment

 
Everytime I see him,
I think of Hershey’s
and hot chocolate
velvet and satin softness
sweet, gentle laughter
and light lingering kisses.
I think of sweet shit
like the sound of gentle rain,
the crackling of the fireplace
and lovers holding hands
in the dark
talking low over a little Teddy Pendergrass.
Everytime I see him,
I think about doodling
hearts and x’s and o’s
and writing some type of love poem
about romance and passion
and bells ringing in chapel halls.
I think of holding him
and being held inside his need
and the desire to touch his skin with my skin
is because I want to be him
be a part of him
feel him be every part of me
cause he got me writing romance novels
and Hallmark movie endings
and happily ever always
every damn time I see him.
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Finally

12/24/2017

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It's like . . .
My spirit knew you
And your voice was a song—lyric smooth Tasha-style
Writing me familiar
And signing me taken
By you even before a thought of you was born.
It's like . . .
I'm made over in the image of us
And what we will become
Was expressed in heaven-like and home-at-last words
Making me believe that happiness
Is a deeper, wider feeling spreading like ocean inside me.
It's like . . .
I breathe on thoughts of you
And on you I can lean, in you I can become
The woman, the lover
The better half I knew I could always be
And for once I know satisfaction.
It's like . . .
I'm finally saying I'm here
A little heart-beaten, and a tad-bit teary-eyed
But special delivered to you
In the right place, at the right time
Cause you were always my destination.
And even as I thought God had forgotten me
He was simply shaping you to make me complete
And building me so that one day I will say
It's like . . .
My spirit knew you and the rest of me fell in love.

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