An azure type blue-green horizon – and forgetting my camera home.
A classic album in sale for $9.99 – and only having $9.
Having all your money for rent – which was due yesterday.
Stepping into your own home – and out of your parent’s home.
Dreaming a dream that knows no end – and waking up.
Driving with the sunset as a destination – but running out of gas.
Bowing down on one, to repent and revere – only to sin again.
Gripping hands, investing in a joint future – losing yourself in process.
Gripping thighs, investing in a beautiful moment – losing your self in the process
And
Love.
Saints and naked-winged babies have earned
A connection
A synonym of : “heart”.
I bring a warning of the day
Schizophrenia
Becomes the new face of
The beating organ
Resonating in our chests.
Speaking solely of my own struggle,
My heart is resilient in nature
Standing firmly on a foundation of truths
Yet in moments unprecedented…
Its ugly side awakens.
The heart of the matter is
The heart is of matter,
Part of my flesh, my human body.
And my heart lies susceptible
To being riddled with
Confusion.
Alongside its beauty and breath-taking capabilities,
My heart remains silent
As my mind
And my flesh
Run rampant.
How strong is the heart?
Verily, I ask,
Is the Beauty stronger than the Beast?
If I write poems in your palms
If I whisper songs to your eyes
If I moonwalk and tiptoe on your skin
If I let my fingers kiss your lips
If I held you until your scent stayed with me
If I let you push my buttons…or play with them
Then we are playing a dangerous game.
A
Darling,
could you hold me?
An odd request from an odder individual
yet,
all the same
in the midst of this summer’s heat
I feel the sharp breeze of isolation’s shivering touch.
To feel the warmth of skin to skin contact
may encourage me to
open my eyes,
so darling,
could you hold me?
Not a platonic embrace,
for this is not a platonic request.
Don’t give me the bare minimum
or daps and church-approved side-hugs.
Don’t hold your body rigid against mine,
denying the softness my masculinity should deny.
“Things just get so crazy,
Living life gets hard to do…
and I would gladly hit the road
get up and go if I knew…
That someday it would bring me back to you…
Find a way to bring myself back home to you…”
Hold me.
Not for sex, for lust, nor the sake of flesh,
but hold me…
Remind me that I am still here.
B
Father,
could you hold me?
Grip me in an embrace that
only You can give me.
You reign over space and time
land and sky…
could you hold me?
Cover me with a love too great for
my body to contain
a heat to warm for
my skin to maintain
“Consume me from the inside out…”
I am the deer in the psalm,
panting at Your stream
caught in many an err
but my soul knows to Whom it belongs.
Don’t allow my sin to block me
For I am guilty and at fault.
Don’t let me deny myself access to your arms.
I am of the carnal persuasion,
but I hope for a divine destination…
“…and the cry of my heart
is to bring you praise…”
Father,
hold me.
Not for the preacher on Easter morning service
not for my parents’ religion
not only for my quiet time
but hold me…
Remind me that I am still Yours.
I want to write an impossible poem
Something foreign
Like a village in France
Or the ghettos of Trinidad.
I want to paint an ugly portrait
Give it to you as a gift
And title it –
“Real:Me”.
I want to do something unheard of
The opposite of the negative connotations that may come to mind
Just something so on point
It would throw you
Off.
I want to write something that you won’t understand
Throw it at you in bits and pieces
Because I know you are not ready
For it all.
I want the chance to open myself up
Scare you away
So I can draw you closer.
I want to create something like a novel idea
New and exciting
and distinct lands
Something you’ve never known or seen before
Sights too great for virgin, human eyes.
I want to craft something
like me
Hard to understand
Different
Strong in waves of odd delight
And too much
For simple descriptions.
Hold my heart,
And don’t forget that you have it.
Keep it with you
In your wallet, On your iPod
In your purse, On your blog
Recognize it
Leave your mark.
Just…
Be careful.
Because
I’ve let it go before.
Lost sight of its value
Misplaced it somewhere around my brain and my groin
Gotten it confused because of mistrust and lust
And I wasn’t careful.
So here.
Have my heart.
But know that it is hesitant
Unsure of the texture of new palms
Uncertain of the direction of your fingerprints
Slightly tentative
Looking for a home.
So, I urge you to just…
Be careful.
But here.
Have my heart.
Roses may be red,
But so is the blood that races through my veins
Nascar power in my body,
definite, not sorta
And only one thing can get all this amped through my aorta.
See, the games been twisted and subdued
Chopped and screwed
Into nice little quotes and anecdotes
And sayings like “Roses Are Red…” just don’t do it for me anymore.
I need more.
I shan’t pretend that I know all of what I want
Love is a master chef, and
I’m still toasting Eggos…
Teasing me with the allure and glitter
Struggling to let go
And it’s putting up a fight.
Beating me black and blue
Or Violet
And somehow, these emotions get rotated
Like tires get.
So I’m through with the games.
And the roses.
I like you.
My itinerary reads: Maturity
and inside of me, something weeps
How I miss the days of my youth.
I’m in this life, two decades deep,
and I’m already lamenting the death of my youth
the deterioration of my innocence
if I look up,
I’m sure to see the shot-clock ticking on
my immortality.
Gone are the days of “tag” and “duck, duck, goose”
Farewell to timeouts and 4-square
The Ice Cream Truck and Transformers
The Ice Cream Truck and Transformers
I’m in the fast lane, on my way
to strollers, grey hairs and taxes.
Quicker than I ever thought I would.
Making decisions with consequences
my growth is now hopping fences
the kid in me is defenseless
to my new “mature” pretenses.
oh, how i miss my youth,
how i desire to re-awaken the youngster inside
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
The Original Power Rangers
and Captain Planet.
i want to run back to the days of Hi-Top Fades
Cassette Tapes
and fifty-cent sodas
i even miss detention and high-waters
quoting “rated R” movies I wasn’t allowed to see.
in the midst of a place where old age haunts
i reside inside of nostalgic thoughts.
