Woman And Child

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As I walked 

Through the place

Where life and death resided

And sickness was 

A house guest who

Now claimed residence,

I came across a woman.

A woman tucked away

In a corner, set aside

From prying eyes.

In her arms,

Lay a baby suckling

Upon her ripened tit.

In the moment or two

That it took for me

To register what I beheld,

I could not help contemplating

Who this woman and her child were

And who they shall become.

I wondered if she was

On the cusps of womanhood

And already was with child

Or if she was beyond ripe

And still was able 

To bring forth life.

I wondered if the child

Was her first,

Her second or

Her sixth

And if at home 

Waited siblings looking

Forward to their new

Brother or sister.

I wondered if the birth 

Of the child was planned,

Their existence craved

By both father and mother,

The embodiment of their love,

Another element that

Bound the parents together.

I wondered if the birth

Was an accident,

A broken condom,

A miscalculation on his part.

His dipping his pen

In the inkwell

And signing a contract

He would soon break,

But she unable to do 

The same. Eighteen plus

Years living with a mistake.

Despite what brought

This child into being,

I hoped they would

Take the gift

That is life and

Bring change to the world.

I hoped they would

Make advances in

Health, science, technology,

Or create a new business model

Or inspire others to 

Move beyond their limits

And live the lives

They should be living.

And even though

They may never live up

To my loft aspirations

For them, I hope

They would love and respect

Their parents, their loved one

And most of all

Themselves.

I looked away

From the woman and child

And continued on my way

Through the place

Where both life and death resided.

My time had come

And I was to return

To where I had come,

But I was comforted

In the knowledge that

Another will take my place,

Another will take up the challenge

Of changing the world.

Loving The Night

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I fell in love
With the night.

The way the world
Was still and
Nothing got in my way.

I loved the quietness
Of the moon, now
Finding the sun
Too bright,
Too busy
For the senses.

The night to me
Was as taboo place,
A hidden secret
That now quickened
My pulse as
I contemplated
Sitting under
A star filled night.

As the soft night sounds
Put many to sleep,
I stretched out
The kinks in my body
As I listened to
My new soundtrack.

I set to the task
Of living,
Of loving,
Of existing
And in doing so
Peace blossomed in my heart,
Then it filled every cell
Of my body until
I shone like the moon.

Unfortunately,
This was not to last,
Society pulled me back
Kicking and screaming,
Telling me there was no place
For another night walker,
This was a world of
Day walkers and that
Is what I was to be.

Still I yearned for the night,
Still I wanted to drape
It's coolness around my body
And convert back
Into a night walker.

Alas, this is not to be
So I comforted myself
In the occasional
Nocturnal escape
Where I lived,
I loved,
I existed
Beneath the night sky.

Spoken Word

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My last poem was a piece I had created for the launch of a Carnival troupe and it was created and performed before it was even typed. I say typed because I didn't even write it and then post it on the blog. It was tattooed into my brain so I can speak it and then transcribed straight to this blog.

Now before I did the piece at the launch itself, I had given a few people the rough spoken word performance and it was well received. It was even enhanced by the suggestions from people (I now understand how to collaborate and make it work). So when it was time to lay it down I was real tight with it. Of course I could do better, but I could have done a whole lot worse.

The reception was not bad, but when I saw the comment left on my pic on FaceBook, a phrase came to mind. I looked up where it came from and it turns out it came from Matthew 7:6 and it goes

'Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces.'

 I'm not saying the people at the launch are dogs or swine, I'm just saying that one should not waste your talent on people who would not appreciate it, who would not nurture it, support it and be inspired by it. They are not the type of people who would stay up late on a Saturday night to catch an episode of Def Poetry Jam or watch countless spoken word videos on YouTube. Most of these people don't know about the different open mics that are here on island and understand the lyrical skill that exists among them on this small island.

Our talents are holy, they are our gifts and should be used fully until they are spent, but we should never give what is holy, even if it is holy to ourselves only, to those who will never appreciate them. That's all I have to say on the matter. Below are some clips I found on YouTube, enjoy.

Confessions

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Bobby-J was following me
And in my heart of hearts,
I knew he was up to no good,
So I ran to the one place
I knew he would never go,
The one place
A devil would never enter,
I ran to the church
At the end of main street.

Inside, I slipped into a room,
Hoping to hide within my hiding place.
It was only when I flipped the switch
That I realized I was in a place
I was never supposed to be in,
A place reserved for
Fathers who would never be
Fathers.

Before I could slip back out,
I heard a voice.

"Forgive me father
For I have sinned,
I have been sleeping
With my best friend's husband.
I know it's not right,
I know it would hurt her
If she ever found out,
But I can't help myself.
He does things to me
That my husband could never do,
Would never do, but father,
If you can tell me that
God will forgive me,
I promise I will never
Sleep with that man again."

Before I could say a word,
Utter a phrase or
Exhale a breath,
She was gone, but
I tasted her confession.
It was sweet and tangy,
And I liked it.

Before I could decide
If I should stay or go,
I heard another voice.

"Father, my sin is not new.
 Over 30 years ago,
I killed a man, and
Even though I did my time,
I still see his face
In every mirror,
Every pane of glass,
Even in the still waters
Of the bayou.
Father, I did my time,
I'm a changed man,
A good man. Father,
Tell me that God forgives me,
That he loves me for the man
I am, not the man I was."

And once again,
Before I could say a word,
He was gone.

One by one,
People came and confessed.
Men confessed to
Touching little children,
Women confessed to
Doing unthinkable things,
People confessed to
Big lies and small crimes,
People who were infected
Confessed to infecting others,
People confessed to
Small lies and big crimes.

I heard them all,
Listening to their confessions,
Drinking in their confessions
Until I was as thick as tick
Full of blood and
I wanted more........

So confess to me,
Give me your confessions.

Confess to me
Something you have never
Told your mother and father.

Confess to me
Things you have never
Told your friend or lover.

Confess to me
Things that have never
Been spoken out loud,
Vibrating the air
Just beyond your lips.

Confess to me
Things you have yet
To tell yourself.

Confess to me,
Give me your confessions.


This poem was created for the launch of the Carnival troupe, Myst, for Carnival 2012. The exact poem was not performed and hopefully I will get the video or audio of the performance posted soon.


This poem was also submitted to the dVerse Open Link.

One Name

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Father,
Call me by one name.
A name that is
As pretty as a picture,
As hard as a diamond,
As soft as the finest silk.

Father,
Call me by one name
That has lasted
Through the ages
That shall never be
Mocked as old fashioned,
Unusual or unbecoming.

Father,
Call me by one name
That will ring
In the ears of men
And bring tears
To the eyes of women,
For proud they shall be.

Father,
Call me one name
That will be
A present from you
To me, which I will
Write everywhere,
Letting the world know
That I was here.

Alas, Father,
You hear me not,
You have long lost
The universal language.
But if you can,
Open your heart and
Listen to the words
Of your babe.

The words of your child
Just born.

Should

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The word
Should
Cracked against my back,
Knocking me to my knees
Where the gravel bit
Relentlessly.

The hooks on the word
Dragged across
The tender flesh
Of my back,
Ripping into it,
Leaving long, open wounds.

You should this,
You should that,
You should be this,
You should do that,
You should.

I should,
But I don't want to.

I did not want to
Live like the seaweed.
Tossed here and there
By the uncaring sea,
Until one day,
It is ripped from
It's roots and floats
Aimlessly through the brine.

I want to be the grand oak,
The strong red wood,
The unyielding green heart
That have endured the ages
And promise to live on
With ease.

So go on,
Tell me what I should do,
What I should not do,
Whip me mercilessly
With the six letter word.
My body might falter,
My will may quiver,
But I shall not yield.

The Lake

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In a little row boat,

My son did sail

Upon a lake 

Crystal clear

And as deep as

His imagination.

Upon the surface 

Swam golden fish

That catch his attention,

That play with him

As he played with them.

Like him,

Their existence

Was shallow and playful,

Never understanding

The gravity of life

And what existed in 

The depths.

I shall not tell my son

What lies below,

Until he asks, 

All I will say is

Stay in your little 

Row boat.

I shall not burden him 

With things too heavy

For his little shoulder,

I will let him play 

With the little golden fish.

When he is old enough,

When he is mature enough,

When he is strong enough,

I will let him swim 

In the lake.

 

When he is ready to 

Swim with the big fishes.