The Grey Goose

The grey goose
Flew across the sky
And I could care less.
My rifle sat at my feet,
And a cool breeze blew
Past me. It should have
Chilled me but I felt
Nothing.

I shot him,
Blood was everywhere,
His last breath was long gone,
He was long gone.
I stood my position,
Should I take him home?
Or should I put him
In the bayou?

He shouldn’t have been here,
This was my place,
My escape from life,
Our life,
The life of two gay men
Living in the deep south.

I shot my lover,
I shot my best friend,
I felt like it was
I who was dead,
I who ceased to be
And I did die
In the moment that bullet
Pierced his heart.

I can imagine
What they would say
If I took him home.
Across the headlines,
“Gay man shoots his lover.”
“Lover’s spat ends in death.”
The reality is
We were not arguing.

We were not even talking,
He was sneaking up on me
And I shot out
Thinking he was a gator.
He died and I died.

I died
As his body was swallowed
By the cool waters
Of the bayou.

I died
As I walked in after him
And let the waters take me
Home to my lover,
To my best friend.

I'm Back!!!!

It was quite tragic actually, I had a terrible case of writer's block which was a product of me focusing on a project I had just launched called Shaken-Not-Stirred.us. You may have noticed the addition to the side which is an etsy store which shows the product which are cocktail recipe cards the size of business cards.

You see a couple years ago, my sister and I visited our brother and we came across a book of sexy shot recipes. Thinking that we would like to try a particular one, we made it a point of ordering it whenever we went out. Unfortunately, only one place out of four had could make it and I think it was because we brought the book. Seriously, though, would you want to walk around with a book of cocktail recipes when you go out? Not fun, trust me.

In the end I made the cards, currently available through etsy are printables as well as laminated versions of the cards. Each set has 10 cards with an accompanying envelope. The series now available are Sexy Cocktails, Cocktails Based on Places, Frozen Cocktails and Pop Culture Cocktails. There is also a free printable you can download from the Shaken-Not-Stirred.us site. Definitely check it out.

There is still a lot of work to do in terms of promoting the business, but I am just happy I've gotten over the writer's block. I'm looking to post poems on the regular once more and I'm looking for a new challenge for Wednesday. Thanks for still following me despite my being missing in action and look forward to some more great poetry.

My Father's Father

My father's father
Was a hard worker,
Coaxing vegetables and fruits
From the dry earth.

My father's father
Was a hustler,
From the plantation
To his farm,
To his truck,
To his taxi,
He hustled.

My father's father
Was not a good man,
Nor was he a bad man,
He existed in that gray area
Where all flawed men reside.

My father's father
Did not know his father
And still he grew into a man
Under the eyes of his male kin,
Under the eyes of God.

My father's father
Was not an educated man,
He was an intelligent man.
A man who was taught
By the greatest teacher
That ever was.
He was taught by life.

My father's father
Lived the life he wanted,
Never kowtowing to
The oppinions of others.
A self made man, he was.

My father's father
Lived and loved,
He worked hard
And hustled harder.
He spoke proudly of
His accomplishments
And those of his children.
And when he had wrung
All he could out of his life,
He slipped away into death's arms.

My father's father
Now rests in peace
With my father's mother.

I Love You, Too

I was awaken
By his breath
Against the back of my neck.

From a distance,
I heard the words,
"I love you."

The vibrations
Ran up and down my spine
Setting off synopsis.

My mind was set on fire,
My heart ran away from me,
My body desired him.

It was not the words,
"I love you,"
That garnered these reactions,
But their vibrations.

The vibrations spoke of
His intentions,
His state of mind,
His truth,
His reality.

They were not
Paper thin words uttered
Into the atmosphere
With hopes that I would hear them
And not put meaning to them.

They were not uttered
As he reached forward and
Grasped his big O, or
Released as a reply
To my declaration of love.

His words,
His vibrations
Were whispered
In the dead of night
When slumber and I were one.

I turned to reach for him,
To tell him that I loved him,
To show him that I loved him
But he was not there.
Then I remembered.

I remembered that
He had died.
He had died a year ago.
So I whispered,
"I love you, too."

Story

I am suffering from a bout of writer's block, and no matter how many times I start to write a poem, it just doesn't flow. So instead of letting the blog go without any posts, I've decided to post a story I had started some months back. It doesn't have a title and it's a work in progress. Show some love by commenting and be on the look out for some long overdue revamping of Little Red Hoodie. Once again, thanks for the support through your following this blog. Hope you like the story.

It was the start of a new semester at Oakland Community College and Martine Carter was on her way to her first class of the new academic year. As a junior professor in the Foreign Language Department, she had the “pleasure” of teaching college students her native tongue, French. Hopefully, this class of students will be as interested in the language as her last class.

Upon entering Room 305, she put on a bright smile and surveyed the room. As expected, there were the jocks taking the mandatory Humanity course. There were the hopeful romantics who were taking the course because the language is supposed to be the language of love. There were also the “regular” students, probably taking the course so they can speak the language when they travel around Europe during the next summer break.

Only one student stuck out to Martine, a young man with a light complexion, but it was his features that caught her attention. They were so familiar, but she never saw this individual before. “Why did he look so familiar,” she asked herself.

Spinning

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 Spinning
Around and
Around and
Around
Until the center
Of my mind
Opened up
And swallowed
The world.

I fell in that moment,
Grazing my knees,
Biting my tongue,
Bruising my ego
Even though no one
Was watching.

I rose
To stand on
Unsteady legs,
Refusing to let gravity
Keep me down.
I'm a fighter
When it comes to that.

I touch my face,
My forehead,
Trying to determine
If I had successfully
Swallowed the world,
But all I could feel
Was the coolness of my brow.

I looked up to the sky,
Seeking out the moon.
I whispered to the man
In that moon,
"Will you forgive me
If I don't swallow the world,
If I am but another person
Walking on the Earth?"

In my thoughts
He replied,
"Will you forgive yourself
If you don't swallow the world,
If you remain a regular person?"

On unsteady legs,
I spin
Around and
Around and
Around
Until one day
I swallowed the world.

He Sat At The Bar

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He sat at the bar,
She had just left
To use the restroom,
And he pondered
His situation.

Yes,
She was beautiful,
Curves in the right places,
Weave perfectly done,
Not a track in sight,
Outfit exhibiting all
That God had blessed her with,
But.....

But she spent more time
In the hairdresser's chair
Than she spent in bookstores.
Philosophical conversations
Left him confused and
He was a philosophy major.

Yes,
She was pretty,
But she was like
A beautiful vase,
Pretty on the outside,
Empty on the inside.

He sat at the bar,
Trying to put words together
Kind enough
Not to damage her ego,
Strong enough
To let her know
That they were over.

Words pulled him
From his thoughts,
They came from somewhere
Behind him,
They were a mix of
Male and female,
Peppered with a rhetoric
His mind hungered for.

Slowly, he turned around,
Searching the bar
For a couple
In deep conversation.
They sat two yards away,
Two book ends,
Brother and sister.

He sipped his whiskey,
Pretending to be taking in
The whole bar scene,
But he was really
Fixated on her,
Fixated on the dialogue.

She was no stunner
By society's standards,
But the more she spoke,
The more he was enamored.
She glance his way
And smiled, not knowing
That in that gesture
She stole his heart.

Just as he was about
To stand,
To join them,
To introduce himself,
To join this battle of words,
His woman appeared.

She whispered naughty things,
Delicious, seductive things,
Things that would have made
Him forget himself.

Not this time,
Or any time in the future.
He spread out the
Roughly sewn patchwork
Of words he had planned to tell her,
Then he bid her goodbye,
Slipping out of her grasp.

He didn't join
The brother and sister,
He just walked out of the bar.
He was not that kind of guy,
The kind that would
Break up with one woman
And pursue another
In the space of five minutes.

It was two weeks later
When he saw the sister again,
This time, he joined her,
This time, he introduced himself,
This time, he planned to be with
A woman that stimulated him
Mind, body and soul.