Of Me & Words That Break

More amazing work from my friend trE. I wish I had written this.

a cornered gurl

Norfolk, Virginia. In the backseat of my friend’s car side-eyeing after some tedious dental work. Ugh.

A little birdie whispers,
“Someone said you
Broke their heart”
And I do not deny
My flaws.
Apologetic by nature,
If it hangs in purgatory,
No home or
Landing space,

I leave it there for later.
Maybe it’ll be retrieved.
I am love, spilling
Out of a full vessel,
Sometimes unsure of who
To choose–
Knowing mistakes don’t
Always rectify themselves.

I lose some fights.
I gain the wins that matter,
But when words can
Bend a soul
And break a person
In two,
I wonder

Am I really
Healing more
Than harming?

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Recurring Nemesis

shadow

Image source: Google

Recurring Nemesis

He was nonchalant, dismissive, scornful

of me. Always has been, from our first meeting

way back before memory. His visits

leave me fitful, restless, waking in a

 

frightful sweat, but only when I force my

release from his domineering grip. Or

perhaps only when he releases me

out of boredom and acute disgust.

 

He visited me last night, as he has

many nights before. Though I don’t recognize

him, he is oddly familiar. His smug smile

lives in every bully who has ever

 

toyed with my meekness. His unforgiving glare

is in every bystander who ever

had their doubts of my abilities proven

by observing me fail spectacularly.

 

He is strong, masculine, fit, handsome, and

firmly confident, but just short of being

obscenely so; he is everything I’m not,

but wish I were. He is kind to every

 

other soul inhabiting my mind, but

exceptionally cruel to me, and only

on exceptionally cruel whims that seemed

to instinctively align with when I

 

was at my lowest, most vulnerable

moments. He openly mocks my appeals

to his reason, decency, and empathy,

targeting my darker nature, the part

 

of me I try to ignore, compartmentalize,

and starve to death. He ignites something

primal in me, strutting away from the

embers floating around the tinderbox.

 

I feel my evolved sensibilities

burn away, leaving only the cruelest

intentions hooking themselves into my limbs;

if he approaches me once more, I know

 

there won’t be anything left of me to

reason with. And this fills me with a

primal joy that frightens me. I know that

if he invades my space again, if he

 

seeks to belittle me with a face slap

or an ill-advised shove, the three-strike

combination I have chambered for him

won’t simply be warning shots to get him off me.

 

They won’t be angry, bleary, wild lashes;

they’ll be highly-focused nitro-glycerin-

fueled blockbusters designed to take his smug smile

on his arrogant head right the fuck off

 

of his fucking shoulders. I would lean in,

attempting to channel those three strikes into

punching and kicking him out of existence.

He smirked and moved in my direction, just

 

as I envisioned. As he entered range

and readied a dismissive slap for me,

I released every ounce of rage from my

left fist, followed immediately by

 

my right fist and a left front-thrust kick just

for kicks. All three blows landed with great, lush

satisfying thuds, evaporating him

from my dream, throwing me into the harsh

 

reality of morning sunlit skies,

punching, kicking tangled blankets and air.

Immediately, I felt dread, for it

wasn’t my fancy words that had prevailed,

 

but my violent nature that I had tried

to deny for so long. Disoriented

and ashamed, I tried to regulate my

breathing, eventually cracking an

 

ironic smile because right or wrong, I

finally got that bullying bastard.

***

 

 

 

 

Enemy of Delusion

Boondocks Spring

Image source: GoComics

Enemy of Delusion

Small talk is a dishonest

and barely varnished lie

I walk in and demolish

the scarcely garnished try

 

and then I’m the bad guy

defend my unclad

psychotic truth,

my ironic pursuit

of uncouth certainties

 

but you’re hurting me

by not paying fair

and laying bare

when we both see

inequities

 

and then you say

you don’t see our color

with respect to political cover,

 

correctness when I reflect

on your blindness

I’d rather you select

Kindness

** *

Written for imaginary garden with real toads FASHION ME YOUR WORDS TO FOLD ~ Ergo, imagined By Gillena Cox . We were challenged to write based on our discovery of ourselves in a Peanuts comic, or a comic strip of our choice. Obviously, I chose the young black revolutionary, Huey Freeman, because of couse I did. 🙂

Drawing a Blank

Drawing a Blank

Drunken-lotus when I wrote this

I’m chokin’ on my brokenness

hopein’ against hopelessness

woke and I was scopin’ this

 

truth in our reality, ponderin’

where should I be, wonderin’

calamity, astonishment

at query of accomplishments

 

this verse is dumbfounded and

this verse is dumbfounded and

I curse this unfounded and

Herculean logician canned

 

Olympian delusions

many eons and no solutions

egocentric push got me listenin’

to Kendrick’s Kush and Corinthians

 

cramming solutions to the feat

in the fetal position, repeated

achievement unsaid and unlocked

dragging myself out of bed when I block

 

all the straggling self-hate that says

 

this poem is a lie to self

this poem says goodbye to health

throw him evil-eye yourself

this poem is a cry for help

 

help, help, help, help

 

I added melodrama here

so you could save what’s left

 

even the Dali Lama fears

nature of life bereft

 

an empty diorama, years

neglected and distressed

** *

Written for imaginary garden with real toads Literary Excursions with Kerry ~ Metafiction.

Electric Lemonade

Electric Lemonade

Cobalt blue,

hollow, cool,

like our intent,

pooling where we spent

 

lingering, luminous pale,

shimmering midnight ocean foam,

shivering, eyes roam till we connect

synchronize, blush, genuflect,

analyze, flush with respect to the

backbeat of our pulse,

our vibe rides the same tide,

 

our notion cuts through oceans

of cacophonic commotion,

our motion, linked,

intuitive emotion,

 

we sink to the depths

of unmentionable dimensions

where the only apprehension is if

one of us misreads the queues,

shifting the hue to red or

what’s been read before,

 

your head backspins,

eyes headed towards the door,

arched eyebrow sending subliminals like

 

“What you waitin’ for?”

Essential Stargazing

Essential Stargazing

I stare up at rivers of stars

trillions of billions of miles

eons into shadowy pasts

possibly null, lifeless void

or maybe, billowing, countless

lonely souls like you and me

gazing back at us

 

eternities apart

from one another

unlike you and me

though close by comparison

in action of thought

never quite close enough.

** *

Written for imaginary garden with real toads Flash 55.

anything but blue

bebop

Image source: Google

anything but blue

you swept into my life

with an artist’s palette knife

slicing my grey in two

 

my painted canvas sang

pastel colors’ bold harangue

in anything but blue

 

you found me on blind chance

random dance of happenstance

accidentally on-cue

 

twirling on twilight

transmuting our moonlight

to anything but blue

 

you showed me seasons of our joyful heart

and I breathed you deeply within me

if I had reason why we fell apart

I could freefall from where you pinned me

 

where did you go

when leaving me undone?

cruel indigo

our nights obscure my sun

 

when did you know

you would flee our harmony?

how was our artistry

discarded so artlessly?

 

I still sing out your name

sullen embers of our flame

for the love that we once knew

 

water-colored tears shed

scattered prismed wake misread

as anything but blue

Julia

***

Bowling for Fireflies

bjphil

Bowling for Fireflies

Dad looked cool as hell throwing his first strike, shocking absolutely no one. I expected no different as I tried emulating his movements during my turn. I got a split and left a pin on the spare.

Then it was Lil Phil’s turn.

The lightest ball they had seemed to weigh more than his tiny ass. We watched him struggle, wind up, throw the bowling ball like a shot put, and fall flat on his ass. The ball sounded like it would go through the floor when it landed about a foot from Phil’s Pocket-Herculean toss, before creeping towards the pins at an obscenely leisurely pace.

 

spring becomes summer

sunlight stretched to horizon

I shall keep this day

 

Dad and I fell over each other laughing hysterically in spite of ourselves. After a moment, Phil started laughing too. The ball was almost halfway to the pins as we helped the little guy to his feet. Phil was grinning; always with that grin that seemed to know where mom hid the last of the cookies. Dad reassured Phil that one day he would be bigger and strong enough to handle a bowling ball instead of it handling him. The ball was nearing the end of its journey as I playfully ruffled his hair.

Then we all turned our attention to Phil’s ball as it slowly, painstakingly nudged each and every pin out of its way; an uncanny microcosm of Phil’s unhurried, determined, free-spirited personal philosophy.

My brother had thrown a strike. The heavy ball made a mockery of him, but per usual, Phil got the last laugh.

 

starlight blinks awake

they salute the setting sun

gently, fades the dusk

 

We laughed even harder at the absurd luck as we all high-fived.

I’m certain we had other moments, but I will cherish that instant forever as my favorite mental snapshot; the three Dawson men just kickin’ it in the bowling alley, smiling, laughing, and politely debating whether rap music was actually music (Phil and I were absolutely hooked, but Dad held back, thinking it was just another fad, like disco.) We genuinely enjoyed ourselves and each other in a transcendent night at the bowling alley.

A little over one and a half score later finds Lil Phil a grown man, a devoted husband, amazing father, and wise far beyond his 38 years. But in many ways, he’s still that determined little guy throwing strikes with a grin while laughing at the idiocy of fate.

 

fireflies dance with stars

I cup them with my mind’s hands

captured memories

***

big Phil

Big Phil with his son, my nephew, “Thundercat”

Happy birthday, Big Phil, my plucky little brother.