Friday, July 31, 2015 1 words I am thankful for


The magic was gone.

It was gone a long
Time now, packing
Its bag and hitching
A ride to God knew
Where, leaving us to
Fend for ourselves.

In its departure,
We fell into a routine
That felt systematic
And left no room
For spontaneity.
I used to enjoy
The spontaneity, but
That was gone, too.

I would look across
At him and wonder
If he felt it, if
He noticed that
Things had changed
Between us. If
He did he never showed it.

The magic was gone.

I knew not how to
Conjure it up. I
Had no magic lam or
Such implement to return
The magic to our lives
And still I craved it.

Like a drug addict
Craved a drug,
Like a chocoholic
Craved a bar of
Oral sin, I craved
The magic.

I sought it out in
The crevices of my life,
Chanting under my breath
Its name as though it
Was my wayward dog
Gone missing.

I did find magic
In the arms of another,
In secret places
Where my husband's
Eyes would never see us.
It was as I remembered
And I savoured it
Despite the fact that
It was wrong.

But truly what is
Wrong or right to
And addict? I was
Addicted to the magic
And now I've got
My magic fix.

Image Credit: Imageback
Wednesday, July 29, 2015 2 words I am thankful for


It's over,
The fine threads
That bound us
To each other
Were slashed by
The razor edge
Of betrayl.

I trusted you
You trusted me
But that all
Was lost when
I broke your

I said I was
I said I would
Never do it again,
But your eyes told
Me that you didn't
Believe me.

I love you,
You only,
You always,
You and yet
That is not enough.

The world seems
Cold without you,
Since you left,
A chill crept
Beneath my skin
Sending my flesh
To shiver.
I crave your

I am sorry.
I need you.
Forgive me.

It's too late,
You've moved on,
I still hold on
To the scrap of
Hope, but in my
Heart I know
It's over.

Image Credit: Imageback
Monday, July 27, 2015 2 words I am thankful for

Lie To You

I'm going to lie to you
You are going to believe me.

You are going to believe me
Becuase you trust me,
You respect me,
You believe that I would
Never lie to you,
But I will.

I am going to lie to you
You are going to believe me.

You are probably thinking
Why would I lie?
Why would I spin a
Fine web of deceit
And drape it about you
Ever so gently?

Why would I lie?
You ask.
Because you want me to.
You want me to speak
Pretty little lies that
Flutter about you head
Gently kissing your skin.

You don't want the truth,
That heavy, hairy, scary
Beast that promises to
Crush everything you believe
To be true.

You want me to lie to you
So I will do as you wish,
I am going to lie to you
You are going to believe me.

Image Credit: Imageback
Friday, July 24, 2015 2 words I am thankful for

A Brother Mourns

"Did you catch him?"

He looked across at
The tiny woman, clutching
Rosaries worn smooth
By her tiny fingers.

"Did you catch him
When he....?"

The words caught in
Her throat. Big, hairy,
Scary truths whose
Claws sank into the
Tender flesh of her
Esophagus, refusing to budge.

He looked at his mother
And wished he could tell
A lie, tell her something
That would stop the pain
She felt, prevent the pain
She would eventually feel.

Looking away, he shook
His head and silence
Fell upon them, heavy,
Suffocating. She could have
Screamed, she could have
Raved and ranted,
Blaming him but she didn't.

He looked back at her, and
She was nodding, eyes dry,
Yet a sadness lived in them.
Hopes lease had come
To an end.

"I didn't expect you to,"
She came forth, embracing
Him. Her strength showed
Him how truly weak
He was.

"You've spent much
Time, so much energy,
Catching him over and
Over again that now
You have nothing to show
For all your effort."

Her words snapped
The last cords of his
Control and in his mother's
Arms, he sobbed.

"It was time for him
To fall," she whispered.
"And time for you to rise."

In his mother's arms,
He cried for his
Fallen brother who soared
High beyond what
Was possible, but he
Didn't fly high enough.

Gravity pulled him down
Every time. And every time,
His brother would catch him
Even if it meant it buried
Him deeper into the earth.
But this time he couldn't
Catch him, his arms
Too weary.

This time, he fell
Never to rise again.
It was something
they would all accept
But for now,
A brother mourns.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015 0 words I am thankful for

Playing With The Bunny

She sat at the end
Of the pier, the only
Thing keeping her warm was
The bunny outfit she
Wore for work.

If only her boss knew
She wore nothing underneath it.
Did it really matter?

She lit a cigarette with the
Last embers of the one she was
Smoking, then watched the smoke
Of the new one. It danced in
The wind like an exotic dancer.

He eyes slid down unto the
Mask of the costume. She
Wanted to knock it off the pier,
Let it sink into the murky waters
Of the sound, leaving her as
A decapitated bunny.

Sighing, she pushed the thought away,
She couldn't afford to do it.
She could barely afford to survive
Much less pay the company to
Replace a bunny head to match
Exactly to the faded suit she wore.

"Hey, bunny." His voice always
Sickened her. "You want to play,
Bunny?" He chuckled at his play
On words. "Do you want a carrot
To suck on?"

She wanted to knock him off
The pier. Let him sink into
The murky waters of the sound,
But she couldn't afford that
Either. He was her supplier,
The only one who could give
Her what she needed to
Escape her world.

"How many?" He asked the question
She wanted to hear. She held up
Her hand, five fingers to the grey
Sky. "You got the cash?"
Out of a secret pocket, she pulled
Out three bills and held them up.

They stood at attention before they
Were snatched away and a
Packet with five pills fell on
The faded wood beside her.

She never looked at him,
She acknowledged the transaction
And continued to watch the smoke
Dance before her eyes, once, twice
Flicking away the excess ash.

She listened as he walked away,
His footsteps fading into nothing.

At the end, he would be greeted
By two men, they would aim guns
At him and demand he lies face
Down. They would search him,
Confiscating the contraband and
The marked bills. They would read
Him his rights, then frog march him
To a waiting vehicle.

She didn't need to see it
Happen, she had gone through it
So many times that it bored her to
Watch another drug dealer being

The men never came
For her, they knew she would
Come when she was good and ready,
And right now, she wasn't ready.

It didn't go as planned,
He shot one man and the other man
Shot him. In all the shooting,
A bullet grazed her cheek
And another sent the head
Flying into the water.

It wasn't the pain at her cheek
That brought her to her feet.
The blood tinting the fur of
The bunny outfit didn't
Make her pull out her special.
It was the fact that she was
Now headless, that had her
Standing over him, the barrel
Of the pistol pointed at the
Space between his eyes.

"Do you want to play with
The bunny?" she growled
Through clenched teeth.

He stared at the pistol,
A gift from her Daddy, a
Decorated police officer.
He said nothing.

"Let's play Russian Roulette,"
She kicked his gun off
The side of the pier,
It landed on the sand.
She emptied the gun
And placed a bullet into
A Chamber.

With a spin of the chamber,
She aimed at him once more.
Safety off, she fired. He
Screamed. He lived. Empty
Chamber. She smiled and knelt
Down beside him, a wicked
Smile upon her face.

"You lost," she said as she
Shoved him unto his stomach.
With him handcuffed, she called
For back up.

Looking up at her, he smirked,
His bravado had returned.
"No, bitch, I won," he spat,
Sirens in the background.

She looked across at her colleagues,
One dead, one holding on for dear life.
Looking back at him, she snorted.
"You killed a cop and wounded
Another, do you really think you won?"

His smile wavered and he looked
Away. The sirens were all they could
Hear. He played with the bunny
And he lost, and only time will tell what
His wager was.
Monday, July 20, 2015 1 words I am thankful for


In a post
Feminist world,
I am not to
Bend like bamboo
Or the blade of
Grass that grows
In my front yard.

I am not to bend
For fear of giving
In. For fear of
Men claiming that
I am inferior to them,
Just above their
Beloved fido.

I am not to bend,
For fear that they
Would see me as
The little lady who
Needs the big, strong
Man to take care
Of everything because
As a woman, I
Just don't know how
The real world works.

I am not to bend,
But I fear I just
Might break, shattering
Into thousands of pieces
And even though I am
Put back together,
There would be one,
Two, three pieces

I am not to bend
But the resolute soldier
Has grown weary and
Wants nothing more than
To be held, to feel
The warmth of another
Soul, banishing the cold
Emptiness that envelops
Me, smothers me.

In this post
Feminist world,
I thank the women
Who fought
For my rights
From the hilltops,
I praise them, but
During the darkest night
When demons from within
And without threaten my
Peace of mind, it is him
I reach out for.

I reach for
His strength,
His stability,
His desire to
Protect me.
I reach for him
Because I know
That he is my rock
As I am his.

In this post
Feminist world,
I do not denounce
Your actions, sisters
Who still bear arms,
There is much injustice,
But it is out there,
It is not found in
Him, him or him.

Do not punish them
For the sins of their
Brethren miles away,
Do not punish them for
The fact that they have an
Outie and not an innie.

Leave them to be
The men they were meant
To be, men who
Want to love and
Be loved.
Friday, July 17, 2015 1 words I am thankful for


A glob of spit
Was launched from
His major facial
Orfice and landed
But a few inches
From my fire engine
Red sneakers.

I watched as
It glistened on the
Hot pavement, bubbles
Melting into liquid
Like fish eggs
Dipped in acid.

I wanted to
Scream at him,
I wanted my words
To render him naked,
Raw, vulnerable, and
When the time was right
I would pierce his
Heart, his soul.

The only screaming
Was in my head
As the mad monkey
Jumped up and down,
Throwing shit at the
Walls of my mind.

I looked up at him
And he stepped back.
Did he see the madness
In my eyes, swirling
Around like a cyclone
In the Indian Ocean.

Did he see my desire
To rip him limb from limb
Then to leave him
Staked to the ground
For carrion birds
To pick at what

Did he see that
I wold not abide
His insolence, his
Inelegant ways. I
Smiled, or was it
A smirk. My body
Shifting a fraction of
A millimeter.

He sensed it and
Stepped back again.
His eyes wary, his
Instincts flip flopping
From Fight or flight,
Death or survival.

I grinned and walked
Away. I didn't need
To touch him for him
To feel fear. I
Did not need to
Speak for him to

I simply embodied
His fear and walked
Away. His not knowing
What I would do was
My greatest weapon.

A weapon
I was a master of.
Wednesday, July 15, 2015 8 words I am thankful for

Swallow Me Whole

Let the sun
Swallow me whole
And spit me out
Into a new consciousness.

I felt cold today,
As I did yesterday,
And now all I want
Is the warmth of
The sun.

The quiet explosions
Emanating heat,
Light, visions of
What is possible,
Everything is possible.

Shivering in the night
Of my ignorance,
My fears, my doubts,
My disbeliefs of what
I am capable of,
I wait for the
Sun to rise.

And it rises,
But not everyday
Do I feel the warmth
Of this sun, not
Everyday do I
Bask in the light,
In the knowing.

Still I await
The sunrise, still
I seek the knowing.
Still I seek
To be the child
Of the sun.

Ever warm.
Ever living within the light.
Ever knowing that
Everything is possible.

Let the sun
Swallow me whole
And spit me out
Into a new consciousness.

Image Credit: Imageback

Tuesday, July 14, 2015 12 words I am thankful for


The following poem is incomplete. I wrote it some time back and for some reason I never finished it, and now I don't know how to finish it.

Black girl with
Thick lips,
Soft eyes,
Round hips,
Looking up at him.

Him, the boy,
The man who
Would whisper
Secret things
In secret places
That took her
To places where
The sun and moon
Met and forced
The day into night.

Him, the boy,
Now man who
No longer possessed
An ounce of baby
Fat, just hard
Lines that knew
The softness that
Was hers.

Perhaps, one day the rest of this poem will come to me. Perhaps.
Thursday, July 9, 2015 14 words I am thankful for

One Cent, One Man

A five cent
Ain't worth shit,
But it's worth
More than a two cent.

A two cent
Ain't worth shit,
But it's worth
More than a one cent.

A one cent
Ain't worth shit
But it's worth
More than....

But if I collected
Them all, building them
Higher than a pyramid
I might be able
To by something
Decent, something

One cent is pretty much
Nothing, but if
I have five hundred
Of them I can
Buy myself a drink.

A single many may
Not effect change
But a thousand men
Can turn the tide,
A million men can
Demand change.

A Once cent may
Not be worth
Anything but I'll
Keep it and add
It to the others
In my possession.

Image Credit: KRMG
Tuesday, July 7, 2015 1 words I am thankful for

A Drop of Coffee

I spilled coffee
In my bath.

I watched as the
Brown-black liquid
Dissolved into nothing.

I wanted to
Laugh, I wanted
To cry as I
Could not identify
The emotion I
Felt from this
Liquid epiphany.

One drop of blood
Determined a man's
Race, yet one, even
Two, drops of coffee
Did not make my
Bath water fit for

A beat or two later,
Laughter did tumble
Up and out of my

Then again,
Blood is thicker
Than water,
And the blood,
So recently removed from
The land from which all
Humanity emerged,
Is powerful stuff.

Powerful enough
To make one drop
Sufficient for a race
To claim a man
And determine his destiny.

A destiny where he
Is judged by the acts
Of his peers
Rather than the
Strength and diversity
Of his character.

A destiny where
Limitations are placed
On him by those
Inside and outside
Of his society.

A destiny where
He has to be
Extraordinary to be
Equal to another
Race's Ordinary.

I looked down
At the spot
Where the coffee
Fell, my raucous
Laughter fading
Into a chuckle.

I took a sip
Of my coffee.
Strong coffee
Always brought
Heavy thoughts.

Image Credit: FWallpapers
Thursday, July 2, 2015 12 words I am thankful for


"No you can't do that."
Bind my arms
And tell me that the possible
Is impossible.

"That can't be done."
Bind my legs
And tell me they are
Too weak to walk
Much less run.

"Sorry, we can't do it."
Bind my tongue
And tell me not to
Ask for help because
It is futile.
No one will help me.

Bind me
So I can only
Go so far,
Do so much,
Be what you want
Me to be.
An appendage to
Your life, but
What of mine?

So bound am I
That I've lost hope
For myself and
Place mine hope in
A child unborn
Not even conceived.

So bound am I
That I dream
Grand, voluptuous dreams
For Children who have
Neither breath or hearts.

So bound am I
That I am ever
So close to
Mummification that
The life I loathe
Is so perfectly

So bound am I
That I am now
Ready to become