The Love Poem

Penciled thin like the margin of a vein 

To my heart —he speaks.

His words, my last refrain

As I die in the interlude of his shrieks

New Woman

Two degrees, no father, dreams stifled for a sleep
She steps at dawn, cell phone ringing, fully booked,--
hooked on improvement.

'The modern woman'
cutting lines in the sidewalk
She hurries to get the kids
you slipping memory like rainbow, yet
She has no longing to leave you, following

She swaying
pocketbook against the wind, behind
moving to the clamour of the job market
Empress in nylons, She on her way
quickening to get that raise

Now you swallowing gin to understand
how She flexing, unrestrained, menacing,
needing, but shunning you
She ain’t your mother
She moving too fast

No fling for cajoling, pushing you
you talking son to carry-on name
She saying tight schedule, more manhood
less bitching
She demanding you pay attention.

PMSing aint the deal
It's the weight of her lungs
the heave for status that keep
her going, on the go, stomping tradition
She flying red in darkness, still

Ain’t no falling short--'xcept maybe on the sex.

Slow Motion

I spread my thighs
you enter, My Style
full-sized, full-eyed
slow breathing exercise
lips charred. We cool

High moon, we spoon
deep, slow, solid
hips arching toward desire
hands naming what's required

You stake out landscape, yes
easy, open, body places
call each entry. Faces
masked in salt and tears

It's a shame there are boundaries
checking reality
no further skills-,
balancing budget, doing dishes,
treating me like a lady

I am a woman, with deep desire
deeper than my parts
wider than the space between my breast
come, come, come inside
my unborn, "about to happen"

Bring your paycheck, bring flowers
a smile; caring eyes
bring good reason and common sense
Diploma in Intuition.
Bring desire to segregate mood
swings, and calls for belly rub

Upon Arrival

Money, Power, Cement--
owners of Front Street
huddle together, pavement
and traffic lights under siege
old men nest like rodents on
banks below

Imperial, her majesty
Royal, in Trust
In whose trust?
financial interbreeding, fine dining
fancy mirrors, access
to capital gains. Scotia
spurns credit for sleeping
doormen in bags, subzero

Power on Front Street
is Progress, brick by brick
Home for old men, dreaming
a space,
head disjointed, no
Money to rest--

Should history record the
nightmare, ill-delusion. Seclusion
Power molded in sandstone
Red light, Green Night
shrieking alarm

Front streets ain't only
on Front Street
They in welfare offices
on subway benches and living
room couches
caseworkers and passersby smell
the stench,
have grown accustomed to the
indifference,
the unholy Divide
between ivory and calico

Photograph of My Mother as a Young Woman

Age-old scented paper
glaring
eyes piercing souls in the story
Behind the eyes are shadows
of generations--
maids, butlers, seamstresses
Big mamas nursing babies

Callow, slim, angled neckline
hold steady
"that's the nose i got!"
chiseled to suits the senses
Frozen truth in black and white

Hardened, broken, splintered
lips
a photograph of my mother
untold stories laid to rest
Silently spoken, haunting

Sparsely-cut black hairdo
askew to jawline
cheekbone
Frilly top shifting memory--
mother's mother
six Sundays ago

Ride With Me

Ride with me on "the midnight train"
my love, smite the wicked rain
that soils my silent body
claiming the shame
my eyes have feelings too

Like the Sable Queen, shipwrecked, lost
left to die, frost
shrivels the thin layered darkness
and quietly tames the screeching roar
of my heart against yours

Ride "the midnight train" with me
my love, unmelt the key
Won't you smite that wicked rain?
Take my hand and walk away
wash the silence that makes me sway.

Love. Listen up!

It's the danger of it all
love is risky business
you carry the silent anger
the pain of wanting to retreat
you stop for a moment to think,
and you ache
you stop for a moment and you feel like
you slipping
like you slipping into something
like you falling and can't stop falling.
It's the danger of it all
love is risky business.
Even when you take a bow
and the curtains fall, you
still falling
you live in the reflections
of broken glass
you walk in the shadow of
you hope, and you pray, yes
you pray
you sing yourself a reason to keep
but you keep falling
the pit that you falling into
has no bottom
just darkness
and echoes of you loneliness.
It's risky business i would say
if you can't stop yourself from falling
you falling and wondering why
you can't stop,--
a woman heart tender
when her mind strong, yet
you keep falling like leaf
on autumn day
you not certain about destination
all this time you traveling
you not sure where you going, but
you going
you going because you falling
and although you know it's risky
business
you still falling
like snow before winter come 'round.
When you falling be sure
someone, a shadow in the pit, even
there to catch you
it better when you don't fall
by yourself
because
love is risky business
when you falling and don't know
that is falling you falling.
Long as you grown and have sense
you will know
is just that you may not know the danger
because you falling and all the time thinking
that is just falling you falling
you slipping too, yes!
you sliding and slipping, losing grip
and you might just grab something
and still feel like you falling
ain't nothing gonna stop you from falling
once you falling
is the pleasure and pain of falling
that keep you going
you high and low in one sweep
ain't nothing gonna help you, now
now that you been falling
and all the while not knowing that
you falling
it's a dangerous
damn dangerous
risky business

Kisses on a Bridge, May 9th

First love, first kiss, first touch, first surrender,
first "always and forever"
She dreams of faraway places, next to him,--
her Prince.

He comes at night, carrying fresh roses
on the wind
she waits for him, always, in the bridge of a song
breathing love verses through sheets of rain,
and nighttime thunder.

She wants him to take her,
over mountain tops and shallow rivers,
over potholes and broken tracks
never slowing,--
children of the poor can love each other.

But,

She is a dreamer; so is he.
So he takes his love where it can be guarded.
Away from careless youth and hunger;
away from sinful desires and naive splendor.

Does he cry, always, for a memory?

Psst

I'm here.
hanging on to hope and other shit.
Been burdened with things to do; some won't be done. Period.
Guess, i'll just have to learn "how to be fine" with minimal support and full-time everything else.
I have been working on research papers and trying to stay asleep when asleep.
Since i'm not having "it" i decided to entitle one of my papers, "Contesting Black Womanhood: (Dis)locating Sex, Gender and Desire in..." we'll see how it goes.
I can smell a long vacation in the air.

Who the hell doesn't need to go out.
I don't understand what all the fuss is about. F#$k poverty.
I need a drink. Oops, can't drink. Try counting sheep. F$#k sheep.
I need a drink. Oops, can't drink. Can't sleep.
I wish i could put my finger on it. Take a dive in it. Ride it like the train.
People confess that it's great. I don't know if i believe them. I thought i'd been there. I haven't.
I'm a bit dizzy, though not from spinning. From playing games. Bad for you.
I'm in love!

Life's weird. So is this blog. I'm simply telling. You. As it is.
So far, too many "I"s, not enough repetition, repetition. Period.
Pattern, not important. Just let it out. tell it, as it is. Without the frills, tucks and trimmings.
Period.
Period, i like the sound of that. Like a final command, PERIOD!
I got some feedback on my poetry, lately. F#$k poetry.
Peace. of. me.
No, i'm not pissed.

Valentine's Night

Lovers lock lips
Beneath the starlight
Between armed wintry bliss
Burning bright in stolen firelight
with
Splintered rose-buds, caravan kisses.
Chicled desires sounding strange, consent
Liquid love melting stern caresses.
The Night praises, a hidden moment
Leaping fences--
It's the time for love, love, loving!

Checkered rainbow cross backs and faces
as
Lovers bend and bow to nonstop tempo
Come closer, hear the mellow secrets stolen?
The Night, Time for love.

That Body

Censor the body and you censor breath and speech at the same time. Write yourself. Your body must be heard.
-- Helene Cixous, "The Laugh of the Medusa."


that body,
that, that, that
that body
that bla
black, black body,
that berry black body
must be heard.

silvery black, shackled block
slippery sloped black body
shepherded back, shipwrecked sugar
Sir Sligo
knew
sir sli
shepherded back 'gainst the shadow
of whiteness, mythical
needing entry.

that body
that, that, that
that body
that bla
black, black, body
that berry black body
must be heard

silent, slow, spoken,
wow!
Sir Sligo
knew
sex, sexy survival
served black, back 'gainst stone
smile, lean, strike a pose
yo' earned it!
yea,

tha', tha', tha'
tha', tha' black body,--
yea,
it must be heard.

Umbilical

Father,

my throat is sore.
From calling you, poor
my centre weans, father
those memories lost, yester
years.

Father,

my soul cries in vain.
My calls' surrendering, pain
my heart nurses, father
those memories lost, yester
years.

Father,

i made a hole. In
the sky. That i may win
one cautious smile, father
those memories lost, yester
years.

Father,

i did make a vow.
That i may burn now
release my tears, father
those memories lost, yester
years.

Father,

i made a crack. In
heaven. That i mayn't sin
by resolve, father, to leave be
those memories lost, yester
years.--

Speaking in Tongues

lish, lisp, his glish

must come clean

from mi mouth

roll over mi tongue,

through mi lips.

What a bangarang, eh?!

lawd, is so Mr. glish is,

laden wid grief, mad fi lick mi

wid him punctuation and grammar.

I before e, heheeeeey!--

but no, on my tongue,

it have a duel with

modder tongue,

they arguing over spices

both claimin' spaces,

hisglish an' modglish.

Lawd, they not easy

though, eh?

Is a' inheritance from

"the bad-minded English"--

a generation glitch,

[...]

Heart Beat

['Unedited' creative writing i did in high school; found it on a disk i had in storage]

I never thought that Jamie could hurt me, no, not in a million years. We were supposed to be the perfect couple, utterly flawless. Now all that we’ve shared for the past eight years was coming slowly to a close. As much as I would like to forget the entire scenario and pretend nothing happened, I couldn’t, it was already planted in my mind. My mind raced, my heart thud, I cursed myself for being so sensitive. Damn Jamie, damn him to hell! I almost said aloud. I steered the car into the driveway and sat transfixed, the ignition running. I couldn’t think, concentration was impossible, I ached inside. Once inside the house, the house Jamie and I shared for eight years, I retired to our bedroom to claim my possessions. Jamie must have come in early for I heard the shower running, though I could not recall seeing his car out front. I searched frantically for my suitcase trying without success to control my anger, fear, anxiety or whatever it was that I felt. Half way through my packing he came in whistling bringing the sweet smell of after-shave with him.

“Hi honey, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said casually.

“You won’t hear me go either,” I said bitterly.

“Why, are you going somewhere?”

“Yes, someplace where I won’t have to see your lying cheating face again,” I yelled.

“What…”

“No, let me finish, for eight years I remained blind, blind because the love I had for you pulled the wool over my eyes.”

“What the…”

“It all adds up Jamie, now it all makes sense: the condoms I found in your jeans, you taking in your sleep, the pictures, those phone calls, showing up late for dinner because you had to work late, you bastard!”

I hurled a vase freshly filled with white roses at him, but it hit the wall instead. Furious I strolled past him, haling my suitcase behind me.

“Cathy I can explain everything if you just give me a chance.”

“Explain, explain?” I laughed, refusing to look at him. “Well maybe you could explain why you have being after my friend Joan for the past two months.”

“Whoa, whoa, did she tell you that? She’s the one who has being coming on to me and when I told her that I’m committed to you she backed off a bit,” he said calmly.

“Cathy I love you, I always have and I always will, I would never want to destroy what we share,” he said, taking the suitcase from my hand, as I stood motionless.

“ The condoms you found were meant to be used with you since you have being complaining about taking the pills, me talking in my sleep I can’t really explain but I’m sure it had to do with my up coming plans for us.”

“Oh, Jamie for the past few weeks we have being so distant, I thought I was losing you.”

“Wait, Cathy, let me explain everything. Those phone calls were totally work related and platonic, I never lied to you about missing dinner because I had to work late, and I wouldn’t do such thing, I swear. The girl on the pictures is my cousin Leona, I was going to show them to you but you found them first; I’m so sorry, Cathy.”

“I love you Jamie, I always have, and I always will,” I said smiling.

“Now that’s better. Are you still leaving?”

“No,” I purred, “not for a long time.”

Child

['selected' poems i wrote while on mat leave in '06; Child, Higgla and Kiss of Death; enjoy]

Take these words,
Put them inside your heart--
Momma loves her child
Pappa loves his child
Eat, breathe, keep these words
Until you open your eyes,--

Higgla (a tribute to Louise Bennett-Coverly)

Mango, banana, pumpkin dry
Two fi twenty
Four fi twenty-five

“Hi miss, Yuh look so nice
Buy someting fra mi nuh mam,
Look how yuh smile bright an’ nice."

"Is plenty water grow dem yuh know mam.
Wha’?
Say yuh nuh waa dem fa dem look pwoile?”

“Look ya nuh missis
Nuh mek mi tell yuh ‘bout yuh lice.”

“A yeseday mi pick mi mango
‘an mi banana come straight from Martinique
Whe’ the sun nuh tap shine!”

“A bet yuh a de same one
Who gwine bawl dung
Mi price--”

“Ga lang yaa woman
Wid yuh rucutuntun behind
Haul yuh tail out a mi stall
Fa no freenis nuh de dis side!”

Kiss of Death

I rise high in the sky
My time
Has come
To lie
Beneath
The sheets of life

As I glide
Pass ancient stories
And lies
I smile
To see the gardener’s eyes

Open wide--
I ride the waves
Ten thousand feet high
I spy
The wounds of an unborn child

Come my loved ones
Let us sing and cry
For this old, old withered land
Must die!
Alas, I must go so good-bye
I have waited for that mile long kiss, for a while.

Red Dust

Mother left.
She said God will
take care of us, and
that we should pray.
But we can't,--
God won't listen.
Or maybe she will.
To the sound of our feet against
the earth, hardening each step,
each mile, each time we travel.
To our hands, cracked
bleeding like water from a
spring, only, less hope in it.
To the hair on our skin
suffocating, afraid to grow,--
blinded by the haze.
Mother said that we should
Pray, but we won't.
Because, God, he's inside,
underneath, our skin.
behind our eyeballs,
in respite, from the world.

Inside Out

Is the anger in me
the ebb, flow of anger,
deep within me,
they should have told me,
warned me, even.
Yea! how 'bout warning, eh?!
'bout the scar of mi flesh
all over me.
The wound of being.
I look,
back, wonder
'bout that wound
like the searing of flesh
in a prison-house.
I scream, i fight,
i get mad.
Ain't nobody know pain
like black woman
she pass on pain
like ulcer, in bloodline.
When she wails
it carry fire to burn hell over,
and water fi she children, no suffer.
But, there is a crushing power
over me.
It feeds on me.
If i could rip this flesh,
burn this flesh,
kill history.
We want to burn history.
She born with anger--
was fed
from my mother's breast--
she lost her anger, chose to forget.
The forces on me tell,
say i must never forget,
long as i breathe.
Breathing is hard when you're angry
when you fight everyday.
I must learn to breathe everyday.
Everyday my flesh confronts me
condemn me.
If i could transform it,
exchange it
for a dead history,
maybe she won't suffer,
the next line.

Silver Moon

She hails the saccharine--
scented intimacy
of his quivering flesh,
rising.
Savours,
mingles, with the primrose
of his kiss (chiffon affair),
oh, that kiss--
like a thousand snowflakes
on a burning blade!

Red, always red hue
or blue, or yellowish blue
sheer pad of desire
like brewed chocolate
through hungry fingers
abated, and flowing--
she rides, the floating
shadows, alone.