there is a beauty to you
a slight curvature to your character
and a place in my temple that
only you will call home
skin kissed by the sun
but what i would give to beat her
in the race to highlight the strokes
of you body, the ones that
god obviously took more time on
my lips match them perfectly
it was almost as if
you were real again
like you were going to
walk right through me
because you could
i was surprised
when you stopped
and found appeal
in the new doorknob
on a door that before
had no way of locking
immediately you wanted
to leave me once more
and all i could do was
fall down to my knees
and weep for your memory
i haven’t written
much these days
i’m too caught up
in my head
chasing the thought
of you
eventually
i’ll tire out
but for now
the pool of possibility
quenches my thirst
which unlike you
is oh so real
Give me the patience
to hope for the truth even in
the midst of my pain
#HaikuForMay, Post-It (05/08)
This month I will be writing a haiku everyday & posting it on my Twitter. I find haiku’s challenging because of the guides that you have to follow. However, I feel like haiku’s are often thrown together and not really thought out. So I’m actually going to follow the following steps below when writing mine.
- Think about a theme for your haiku and write down some of the words that come to mind on that theme.
- Organize your thoughts roughly onto three lines. First, set the scene, then expand on that by expressing by expressing a feeling, making an observation or recording an action. Keep it simple.
- Polish your haiku into three lines, the first with 5 syllables, the second line with 7 syllables and the third line with 5 syllables. It may take some time and substitution to make it fit.
My tweets will also be accompanied by a picture of a Post-it with the words that I jotted down for the haiku.
Wish me luck! And join me if you’d like. :)
who gets it right
the first time
they try to say
we don’t know
what we’re doing
but then again,
they all believe
the world is round
too many
of our black men
are often found
dangling from prison bars
ropes made of sheets
that match the paleness,
same color as the hoods
that they replace after
a hard days work
of protecting (their race)
and serving (their government)
when they take off their badges
all that remains
are broken men & women
children of many
who will repeatedly
fall victim to their system
of racial warfare & extinction
—
this poem is for my godfather, “Buddy”. may you rest in peace, a fighter you remained until the day you were taken away from this earth. by the boys who call themselves men, when they’re wearing blue.
my problem is
i want to be right
on the first time
like a virgin
popping her cherry
i want it to be pleasurable
and memorable
all at once
i don’t want to
wake up tomorrow
and know that you
weren’t really here
that you were just
a figment of my
vast imagination
another thought
of lust that’s
stuck out at sea
i’ve had plenty
nightmares that match
one night stands
and numbers that i don’t
remember in the morning
all i have left is my hope
because i don’t believe
that god is listening anymore
i am crumbling
internally
like a sinkhole
hollowing itself
out from all of
the weight it
can no longer
bear to hold up
alone
at the bottom of
the cup
at the end of
the clip
all i can think
about is you
and why
i can’t seem to
be the foundation
of your happiness
snow crystals
listen better than you do
they dance on the
tops of my hair
melting to find
themselves a home
within me
but you tend to
take low blows
and refuse to
take time like
they do
when it comes to
getting to know
the make-up of
my memories
i wonder if
snow crystals
see through
the false truths
you whisper
in the shadows
that cloak my love
from ever being
able to open
up and allow to be
absolved within you
I wish that
you were
my first everything
but instead
you’ll be
my last anything
Eventually you will get tired
tired of waiting, tired of wishing
at some point you have to accept
things will not simply change
sometimes those we love
are settled, stay in their ways
content in their traits
and there’s nothing you can do
about how they are
except for move on
I confessed
my love to you
& look where
it’s got me
i’ll admit
i’m obsessed with things
fancy electronics, red tag jeans
& the high i get when
i have on a crisp white tee
(and fresh socks)
i’m the type
to go buy a new
pack of boy briefs
instead of doing
a small load of laundry
i could
(and i do)
blame this on the way
that i was raised
my father, a magician
his number one trick: disappearance
but when he did
decide to reappear
he always arrived
with gifts to bear
my mother, a friend
never knew what love was
so this was something
she struggled with
yet when it came to
toys, games, anything materialistic
she gave it all
overloading on stuff
without knowing value
(or worth)
i think that’s how
i learned about overcompensating
when i reflect on
the void i feel in my chest
the space that cannot
be satisfied
regardless to how much
better of a job i have
more education i get
higher the amount on the price tag
i have a bigger tv screen &
still i cannot see what i mean
to someone like you
loving someone
that’s worthless like me
i’ve been given
a lesson filled life
on how to give
but never on
how to receive
what do you
write when you’ve
run out of words?
