0

fire.

she’s burning coal,
chasing fire like the wind,
red spots, hot spots,
foggy and misty,
she’s chokin’ on smoke
and tasting memories
that burn her throat.
eyes red. heart black.
she’s on fire.
she’s the fire.
destruction everywhere she turns
the worlds on fire
it’s a beautiful agony
she burning earth
scorching everything she touches
raining fire,
pouring heat,
embers and atoms
she can’t stop
the tornado she’s become
will not be wilted by water
will not be slowed raging seas
she’s burning, endlessly
blazing internally, eternity
only thing to calm her,
is another fire,
burning just as fierce
as her own.

 

Advertisements
0

superman

I rise up in the mornings,
put on my superman cape
paste a smile on my face,
I will show them what it means
To be brave. To be fierce.
I will sip my coffee
like a hero toasting courage,
My back will be straight.
I will be poised. Perfect.
I will be the rock in the storm,
unmovable, unmalleable.
Always sure of my steps
Always positive. Always optimistic.
I will be the knight,
the guard, the shepherd.
Until my watch is over,
and then I will go home.
I will sit in the shower,
and let myself feel.
I will take off the smile,
I will not be brave or fierce.
I will cry and weep
and hurt for them and for me.
So that tomorrow,
I can rise up in the morning
and put on my superman cape.

0

chaos in a bottle.

she’s fucking chaos in a bottle
brains on fire
thoughts inside a jetpack.
she’s reckless, venturesome
whispering to the wind
cat-calling to the past
she’s fucking chaos in a bottle
one she’s been drinking
from. like amphetamine
slow down wild child.
stop driving down the lane
where the fucking memories live
stay here. living in the present.
but she’s already gone
flying to the future,
singing her own song
fuck her, fuck them, fuck ’em all
she’s just fucking chaos in a bottle.

0

little bird.

Fly little bird, fly away
Fly from those fires that rage
Find your peace in darkness
Find your quiet in the night
Fly little bird, far away

Fly with the wind at your back
Fly with the hope in your soul
Flap those wings
May angels carry you
To a destination far from
These fires that rage

Fly, fly you free spirited thing
Fly away, fly where you can sing
Fly to open waters of the sea
Fly where you can be, just be
Fly little bird,
Away from these fires that rage

Little bird, little bird,
These fires rage so beautifully
Fly away, fly little bird
From these fires that rage
-Inside of you.

0

blinks

to look upon faces,
sweet and harried all the same
looking back from black and white
pictures to match to names.
some in jobs and dreams
some only dreaming of jobs
behind bars, in cells,
stuck in time. lost in time.
some frozen in youth,
never to change, grow older.
buried beneath flowers and stone
peaceful til the end of time,
so is the way of life.
to be here and then not be here,
just a blink in time.
just a blink.

 

0

how to be brown.

don’t be.

your brown skin,
how could it ever be –
so beautiful as mine.
your brown words,
how could they ever be –
so perfectly refined.
you’re just an imperfection,
a blemish on society.
you weren’t no slave,
you ain’t no slave,
your people put you there,
anyway. anyway.

how to be brown –
don’t be.

don’t protest with your peace.
don’t want your brownness near me.
keep your brown crime, brown violence
in your broken brown town.
do you speak English?
try acting white sometime.
here’s a tip on
how to be brown.

just don’t be.

**I hope that if you are reading this, you understand that this poem is not meant to insult people who are brown, but as a form of protest against racism.

0

pretty.

he flicks the ashen remains of his cigarette
right into the forever of a gray night,
he’s got a cracked tooth,
‘can see it when his lips hint of a smile,
like they’re doin’ right now.
something that looks a bit like satisfaction,
rests easy on his face.
hands rest against his belt,
like he was born with one hand on his gun
the other on his hip.
the moon’s giving off just enough light,
he can see her once pretty face turning blue.
she looks at him, but her eyes don’t really see
anything.
except maybe a white light,
or just darkness.
depends on what a person believes comes next.
he tilts his head,
listens to her cough, vomit, choke
there’s a needle still strapped to her arm,
but he just watches.
shame, she might’ve been been pretty
if she wasn’t pretty messed up.
shame, she might’ve been someone
if she wasn’t someone who chose drugs
over her own son, from someone’s son.
shame, she would’ve been pretty,
forever,
if she wasn’t so pretty then,
if she wasn’t pretty vulnerable for a five year old,
if she wasn’t pretty depressed for a teenager,
if she wasn’t pretty lonely as a young woman.
if she wasn’t so pretty then,
she could’ve been someone…else.
if he would take a good look,
look at her eyes, clouding over like the moon
that’s watching over them,
maybe he’d see the blue eyes of a little girl,
could be his little girl,
if he had a little girl,
he’s just got boys.
so maybe that’s why he can’t see her
except through the eye of a needle.
he could have saved her life.
maybe he could have changed her life,
but he believes that she made a choice.
he believes she chose this life –
nothing could change his mind.
there’s a siren somewhere in the background,
theme music for a b-movie ending,
she’ll be happy now, right –
she can shoot up with Jesus,
maybe he’ll save her.
maybe if she makes it to Heaven.
seems like she’s already been to Hell.
be free, little bird, a shadow whispers.
he shakes his head at the shell of her,
here comes the ambulance,
snapping on blue gloves –
nitrile, not latex.
it’s too late to take it away,
but they do anyway.
bagged.
tagged.
evidence.
of another overdose.
they will carry his burden for him,
the one he refuses to take part of.
they know he could have saved her.
but the magic potion costs too much
and of course, she deserved it.
just like she did when she was five.
and seventeen.
and twenty-three.
because she was too pretty,
and then pretty fucked up.
so he watches them zip her up,
in a black bag.
he could have saved her.