New Horizon

Invisible Poem

can you see me?

a quick glance at my face
and longer stare at the clothes I wear
answering arbitrary questions

"do you got a job?"
or
"what kinda car you drive?"

and I smiled
giving acceptable
and yet
honest answers

we sat there over dinner and drinks
politely conversating about 
nothing we really cared about

did I see you?

I thought I did
hidden somewhere between the 
cleavage and curves
or 
was it my hormones conducting the interview

maybe I wasn't looking in the right place

uppercuts and jabs
my back is against the ropes
defensive positioning

"how many kids YOU got?"
and
"do YOU got a job?"

your answers were honest
and superficially acceptable

now
intellectually satisfied
(for the time being)

It Was All Too Good To Be True

it was all too good to be true...

you  
in that hip-huggin’ black dress  
just lookin’ for me to  
lock my arms around your waist  
and hold you tighter than a crack addict holds his habit  

your hair  
flowing freely  
softly  
just lookin’ for my fingers to  
examine each long  
delicate  
golden brown strand  

your eyes  

hungry  
hypnotic  
big  
brown  
beautiful  
expressing to me without words  
your every hidden desire  

your desire for me to touch you  
to hold you  
to love you and love you  
AND LOVE YOU!!!  

then  <...

I Will Find It

I know it's here
somewhere

saw it yesterday
scurrying underneath the bed
hiding safely in the shadows
scampering into the darkness of the closet

I chased it
looked for the flashlight in the drawer
by the time I returned
shaking the pile of dress shoes
and low hanging clothes from the hangers
it was gone

I know it exists 
somewhere

saw the commercial on TV
it was on sale
special discount if I purchased it in bulk
wondering 
if I needed that many
and 
who I would give the extras to

I know it's history
it's origins

it has changed the course of history
many times over
so many lives lost 
in countless wars
so many lives found
in the aftermath and ashes
and aftermaths of
wrinkled bedsheets in the morning

I don't know...

The Next Door Neighbor

next door to the
Cabin Of Joy
next door 
is where choirs sang
preachers preached
dust settled in the aftermaths of hymns 
sung from faded green books
where uncles
aunts
cousins were packed in the pews
and choir stands
a weekly family reunion

afterwards
Sunday dinners
inhaled between the
amens
and
hallelujahs
consumed in shifts in the small upstairs dining room
children played
but never strayed from beyond the fence next to the
Cabin Of Joy

and on the seventh day
it rested
cigarette smoke
long gone since the morning dew
bottles of gin
consumed by metal trash cans on the curb
the night before
we watched in secret
in the darkness 
from the front window of grandma's house 
right across the street from the
Cabin Of Joy
ta...

Rest, Jesse, Rest

the light was lit
an eternal flame
burning on the front porch
it was left on for you
the front door 
wide open
table set 
with all of your favorite dishes to consume
equality
justice
freedom

journey completed
you can now extinguish the lamp in your hand
I know your arms are tired 
from holding it all of these years
I know your feet are dusty
so many miles travelled
uneven terrain
broad highways
and 
roads less travelled
unseasonable weather
storms
appearing out of nowhere
hidden from behind conniving mountaintops
and no decent covering available to you

the door is open
come inside
dust off your trousers
let me bandage your scars

here
have a cool drink of water
lay your dirty garments to the side
you won't need to wear them anymore...

Til Death Do Us Part

forever 
penned in poetry
prose
Hallmark cards 
letters 
calls
texts
from places where I can’t get next to you

the
"I do"
part
up to the 
"ashes to ashes"
part

but 
nothing is promised
Las Vegas 
giving tomorrow even odds

seen and heard about
forevers 
ending in the strangest places and times
here today
gone 
while they lay themselves down to sleep
joy 
the preacher promised me
but absent in the morning

so 
I ain’t gonna bore you with empty words
promises 
my love for you would like to make 
so you can rush off to the lottery man
cash in your scratch off
winning ticket
for sure
forever
is keeping the battery fresh in my watch
listening to th...

At Fifteen

it was in this year
clouds of innocence were slowly removed 
from my freshly minted fifteen-year-old eyes

windshield wipers 
in the spring rain storms
yet
clearly seeing
experiencing 
the wonders
the frustrations
the cruelty
the humanity
the reality 
of my world

it was in this year
discovering words 
written
spoken 
could be steamed
fried
prepared to order
and sometimes microwaved

remembering
digesting them
after being served 
thoroughly minced 
diced
sprinkled with a little brown sugar
washed down with a cold soda

it was in this year
preparing
serving 
words for others to digest

interesting to note 
words 
taste differently to each tongue
onion flavored
bi...

Love Poem V (1976)

if I could
I would cover the world with your love
blanketing it all with the warmth of
you
like a fireplace amidst the winter's cold
wisely 
yet sparingly sprinkling your love to the world
me
the sole user of the control panel

if I could
I would replace the sky with you
your radiance would illuminate the darkest of nights
wishing upon the stars 
if you will 
if you must
but access to you is limited 
to me

if I could
I would wrap up your smile
in pretty Sunday morning blessings
after showing it off to the world 
all conflict ceasing 
absence of rebellion
of war

and only after the completion 
of the perfect world your love has created
would I take you back
protecting you from all danger

the sky
back where it belongs

your s...

The Music Maker

sometimes I wonder if I am really me
or a just compilation of the greatest hits from Hughes and Baldwin
or a re-released recording of
"Amiri Baraka
Live from the Apollo"
bits and pieces of Brooks
Angelou
The Last Poets
or a collection of unknown writers thrown together 
in some far flung attempt to feed the hungry kids with leftovers from the night before

am I to shop my demo around
as a merchant in some Caribbean marketplace
or on the street from the trunk of my used car
hoping that it makes it into someone's top Spotify
Pandora
or Apple Play list?
 
sometimes I wonder if I am really me
a poet
or just an artist doing live shows today
touring the oldies circuit tomorrow
bloated
in a sparkly used tuxedo
and later reduced to a footnote in literary history

Her Tomb Was Empty

it happened to me
and so
it happened to her

she had to crawl along the uneven cobblestone road
this heavy thing tied to her weary back
bloody knees
bruises 
beaten for her beliefs
her convictions
visions 
the masses could not comprehend
they did not want to comprehend
no pebbles tossed into the placid pond to disturb the status quo
midday sun
searing down upon her wounds
and
she uttered not a word 

reaching the summit
hands nailed into the wood
it was His will
that she should drink from this bitter cup
remembrances of dark days
betrayals
loneliness

how did she get to this moment
to this place
to suffer this fate

then
the clouds parted
the skies cleared
and down came from heaven
a pen
a piece of parchment
a poem
a missio...