6/30 The Difference

The Difference

history is not always on your side

there are tools today not available

some long ago

the rules are no longer

the rules

back then

the peaceful opened arms wide

believing no harm would come

because they meant no harm

over and over again

at some point the peaceful

adapted their thinking

protection their mode of communication

modern day colonizers forget

the memories present in the colonized

because they have no recollection

they couldn’t

they have never been

on the receiving end

of loss of home

by force

being demonized for existing

in their own environments

so moving forward

the mentality of

things will be what I want them to be

is not based in real time thinking

these days the people

know they are being displaced

never trusted your tongue

or

presence in neighborhoods

they’ve inhabited

for decades

and you don’t understand

that you moved into their hoods

you want to claim neighbor

when you do not know them

or care

to

they who are reduced the to thug

because you never read hood life 101

left a laundry list of opportunities to take

the way you took from them

and this is not to condone

but explain

things don’t change because

you showed up

I know your privilege didn’t tell you this part

that yes the native folk will videotape

the crimes against you

the way the cops tape crimes

perpetrated on them

and nothing happens

and nothing will happen

as long as you believe yourself

to be above them

you continue to call them thugs

call the police when you

don’t like the loudness of their music

because it doesn’t have the same

rhythms of your leaf blower

if you want to live in the hood,

you better learn the language

understand that Leroy

been living on that corner

for a decade

and Miss Lillian knows everything

all the time

your presence

doesn’t change

their reality

it changes yours

and you better learn how to adapt

or just like you saw your opportunity and acted on it,

they will do the same

there are all kinds of takers

you no longer hold

the monopoly on that

and that is the difference

National Poetry Month (1/30)

I am attempting 30/30 this month, thirty poems in thirty days, that I will be sharing here and on my 30/30 Blog. The last three years have been hard to unpack, so I am starting to reconcile my disappointment, and emotional duress and the words are forming. Most if not all of these attempts will be rough.

Here's the first one

Vaticination

noun vuh-tiss-uh-NAY-shun

1 : something foretold : prediction

2 : the act of prophesying

the worst

the best kind of lies

are told in the dark

sliding from whiskey soaked lips

slurring platitudes

like they have enough weight

to keep you

grounded

as you float above yourself

a sensation you will not remember

when dawn breaks

when the sun ignites

fumes of spent desire

as the forgetting begins

love recedes

falls back to lust

reclaiming the lonely it always was

even as it pretended

to be what it never

would

the bells ringing

missed intentions  

go unheard

a crashing

a siren singing songs

full of repressed shadows

hand over my mouth

no sound escapes

no utterance of anything solid

a fluttering thing

that holds your attention

holds it

as long as the glass is full

ice reflecting the hues of miscommunication

measured in proofs

in how much hope

you can hold between mutual distractions

when pleasure is so self-serving

it calls out its own name

hoards everything else

See these

these are the best ones

the lies that can only remember

who you are

once you’ve left

the only part

you did not ever think

you would lose again

The History of Storms

there are thing that cannot be known

by those who do not a know

air

so gentle 

seizing of all that was once innocent 

once sweet turned sour in the unknowing 

that can never be known
unless we were there
we were not

there is a softness 

a sickness there 

one turned malignant

diseased

one longing for cure 

but not knowing how to ask

there is always a way to ask
unless
there isn't

there is a table there

one flipped time and time again 

in a breeze 

disguised as soothing 

as knowing 

as invisible as the wind

that 

ruffled your hair
that time

the thing about air

about wind 

about breezes

is that every one needs it

even as it cannot be seen by eyes 

focused forward 

in a war no one enlisted for 

drafted 

none the less 

no one can win 

because that is not the goal 

burn it all down 

in the ruin of it all 

the temperature risen so high 

it calls for emergency rooms 

for evacuation

for oceans 

moving in the wrong direction 
shots fired
there are always shots fired

condensation has no choice 

it lands on our faces 

a failed attempt to wash 

something so dirty 

clean 
impossible

there is no right answer 

there is no next time or tomorrow 

there is only rain and questions 

only windows 

forced open 

and and paperwork 

only debris and broken boys 

only answers not asked for 

only band aids where surgery was required

only questions we will never know the answers to

truth no longer resides in your tongue

your heart turned detritus 

turned vengeful 

cloaked in revisionist history

there are things that cannot be known 

answers that were never questioned 

a fish that took on to much air 

found it was unable to float 

decided fuck it 

if I drown in my home

we all drown in my home

despite the wet
it will all burn

the flames will burn it all

there is always

air to feed the flames

always

Queer Lodgings (rough)

the initial cringe did not surprise 

elicited no response 

comfort turning uncomfortable 

stumbling tongue 

everywhere hands convey distress 

you cannot hold my eyes 

I do not move 

watch the miles race through you 

all over the room 

there in no air in your world 

no fear of danger not looking for you

it does not exist 

it never did 

ignorance was your bliss 

what you didn't know,      you really did

the struggle drapes your frame 

hand me down opinions 

in all the wrong colors 

I understand you are drowning 

I am not your undertow 

I did not throw your voice all over the room 

spouting homophobic like a geyser of disgust 

all stereotype and conjecture 

I know first hand what you think of my kind 

the empress is wearing no clothes 

I see all of you 

you showed me your skin 

I showed you mine 

there is a reason you didn't know 

you equated lifestyle with intelligence 

decided to delete what you knew to suit your needs 

perhaps you imagined me closeted 

as in hush 

and shame 

now the awkward has settled 

you look at me like I want from you 

I watch the the questions slot through 

then something slides behind your eyes 

you wonder if I find you attractive 

it's my turn to cringe