She's been making herself sick
Escaping to the solitude of bathroom stalls and
Hiding the evidence in bedroom trash cans
She regrets it every time but
She can't stop
See, eating disorders start at an early age
Watching what her mother ate and fed her brothers and sisters
Too young to differentiate bad from good
And now her immune system can't digest all those toxins
What comes up
Is all those words she spoke against her life
Against her boyfriend-turned-husband-turned-baby daddy-turned-ex-husband-turned-trifling ass bastard who left
When he'd had enough of her words
She eats the late-night conversations with her best friend
"That nigga ain't no good"
Just to throw them up again
Against her embryo-turned-fetus-turned-baby girl she tried desperately for nine months
To turn male who's seemingly turning male right before her eyes
She eats the coos whispered to her 8-week-old swollen belly
"I will call you William"
Just to throw them up again
Because her mother fed her three square meals of "You won't be nobody"
Two decades later she's still dry heaving on nouns and verbs
She couldn't completely swallow the first time
Cause she knew it didn't taste right
She's been making herself sick and she
Makes herself sick because
She can't stop what she's already put into her body
Into the universe
She eats what she sows and the rotten fruits from negative trees
Have condemned her soul to spiritual bulimia
An urban Sisyphus content to pull her finger out her throat
Just to push it back down again
She can't hold it in because
The regurgitated grammar settles in her arteries like ready-made heart attacks
To snatch away her existence
They never said eating crow causes death
So she makes herself sick
Escaping to the solitude of bathroom stalls and
Hiding the evidence in bedroom trash cans
She regrets it every time but
She can't stop
*the vid doesn't have the whole poem, just the first 3/4. . .sorry
9/25/08
9/17/08
The Mask
My mother told me I was beautiful with it on
A porcelain sculpture half green with promise half blue with expectation
A look of strength and weariness etched into its surface overflowing with defiantly straight and long black hair
And I swore to never take it off
With it, I was the closest to perfection I could be
Not quite there because only true artists can bring their imaginations alive
And I was my mother's first child
Her first artistic try
In her womb, she made sure to eat the fruits of disappointment
So obligation would flow through her bloodstream
To me
This made my mask unbreakable
She didn't have to tell me that I came from a long line of mask-wearers
I saw it with my own eyes
At holiday gatherings, aunts, uncles and cousins spoke the language of prisoners
And ceremoniously passed down the familial iron mask like sweet potato pies at the dinner table
I took my piece gladly
At home, I'd bump
"M to the A to the S to the K
Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day"
Not realizin' that Wyclef had Lauryn singing her own identity death sentence
I took on as a mantra
Until I learned that words are more powerful than parental hand me downs
With a shout of "I am beautiful"
My mask began to crack and peel like hard-boiled egg shells
Who I really was wasn't for whispers
I walked around intrigued by the little piece of chin and mouth
Peeking out like Phantom of the Opera
A bulk of the porcelain had stayed
But the energy of my self-esteem
Made the forehead and cheek pieces fall, too, cause
Who I was wasn't for hiding
The final piece
A duplicate of flimsy cereal box 3D glasses
Disintegrated when I set aside my fear and agreed to live in reality
And it felt good to free my face
Let my cheeks feel air because after 22 years
That porcelain suffocated so much that even my pores breathed sighs of relief
Opened my eyes wide enough that I could see my reflection in my pupils
I liked me
mocha brown skin golden with ancestry eyes bright with enlightenment
A smile that beamed confidence, love and strength topped with kinky, nappy hair
And nothing
Not even the look of disgust and disappointment on my mother's face could dampen my elated spirit
She was ashamed
For the first time, my mom told me I was ugly
Because the twinkle in my eyes had rainbow-colored tints and she
Couldn't handle it
"Without your mask, I don't know you"
The irony is Mom,
Without my mask, I don't know you either
A porcelain sculpture half green with promise half blue with expectation
A look of strength and weariness etched into its surface overflowing with defiantly straight and long black hair
And I swore to never take it off
With it, I was the closest to perfection I could be
Not quite there because only true artists can bring their imaginations alive
And I was my mother's first child
Her first artistic try
In her womb, she made sure to eat the fruits of disappointment
So obligation would flow through her bloodstream
To me
This made my mask unbreakable
She didn't have to tell me that I came from a long line of mask-wearers
I saw it with my own eyes
At holiday gatherings, aunts, uncles and cousins spoke the language of prisoners
And ceremoniously passed down the familial iron mask like sweet potato pies at the dinner table
I took my piece gladly
At home, I'd bump
"M to the A to the S to the K
Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day"
Not realizin' that Wyclef had Lauryn singing her own identity death sentence
I took on as a mantra
Until I learned that words are more powerful than parental hand me downs
With a shout of "I am beautiful"
My mask began to crack and peel like hard-boiled egg shells
Who I really was wasn't for whispers
I walked around intrigued by the little piece of chin and mouth
Peeking out like Phantom of the Opera
A bulk of the porcelain had stayed
But the energy of my self-esteem
Made the forehead and cheek pieces fall, too, cause
Who I was wasn't for hiding
The final piece
A duplicate of flimsy cereal box 3D glasses
Disintegrated when I set aside my fear and agreed to live in reality
And it felt good to free my face
Let my cheeks feel air because after 22 years
That porcelain suffocated so much that even my pores breathed sighs of relief
Opened my eyes wide enough that I could see my reflection in my pupils
I liked me
mocha brown skin golden with ancestry eyes bright with enlightenment
A smile that beamed confidence, love and strength topped with kinky, nappy hair
And nothing
Not even the look of disgust and disappointment on my mother's face could dampen my elated spirit
She was ashamed
For the first time, my mom told me I was ugly
Because the twinkle in my eyes had rainbow-colored tints and she
Couldn't handle it
"Without your mask, I don't know you"
The irony is Mom,
Without my mask, I don't know you either
9/5/08
A Math Problem
$2.57 can buy a loaf of bread, six packs of Ramen Noodles and a Gatorade
$4.18 can buy a snickers and enough gas to get from school to home for three days
I placed out of college math just to be placed into life algebra
Variable A is how long I can go without a decent meal (always changing)
Variable B is the price of unleaded gasoline (always changing)
& C - C is 4, society's standard of college graduation
I'm not sure when life got reduced to a quadratic equation
But I majored in communication
Pulling A's and B's but can't convince an employer to hire me
At night, I empty my pockets to count up my copper and silver-plated hopes ready to roll
Hoping to make dollars in an economy that don't make sense
It's hard to run & jump & play in this recess that shuns ascension
Can't grow without seed
And the cloud over my head blocks the sun from shining my way
Though it doesn't always rain
Yesterday
I traded my pride for two cans of luncheon loaf & 30 minutes in a donation line
Gave new meaning to land of the free - home of the brave
My dignity only allows me to crawl on my hands and knees searching for glimmers of redemption when no one else is home
Desperation makes for great knee pads
And hunger's an effective motivator and creativity stimulator
So when my supply of food pickiness runs low and my body demands subsistence
I start mixing carbs and starches with no regard for nutritional value
3 weeks ago
Optical illusions turned nine cans of whole kernel corn into four barrels of gasoline
That's senior-level chemistry
And the university says I'm 42 credits away from financial freedom
But all I see is
My stafford loan shackles waiting on the other side of the graduation stage
Subsidizing me with its interest rates
Sallie Mae says do the math
Replace the variables with numbers and I got
Angry cause I know a corporate company made millions this year
And was given more than $300 from the government
Professor said No Princess
The answer is 1
One chance to get it right
Or you fail
$4.18 can buy a snickers and enough gas to get from school to home for three days
I placed out of college math just to be placed into life algebra
Variable A is how long I can go without a decent meal (always changing)
Variable B is the price of unleaded gasoline (always changing)
& C - C is 4, society's standard of college graduation
I'm not sure when life got reduced to a quadratic equation
But I majored in communication
Pulling A's and B's but can't convince an employer to hire me
At night, I empty my pockets to count up my copper and silver-plated hopes ready to roll
Hoping to make dollars in an economy that don't make sense
It's hard to run & jump & play in this recess that shuns ascension
Can't grow without seed
And the cloud over my head blocks the sun from shining my way
Though it doesn't always rain
Yesterday
I traded my pride for two cans of luncheon loaf & 30 minutes in a donation line
Gave new meaning to land of the free - home of the brave
My dignity only allows me to crawl on my hands and knees searching for glimmers of redemption when no one else is home
Desperation makes for great knee pads
And hunger's an effective motivator and creativity stimulator
So when my supply of food pickiness runs low and my body demands subsistence
I start mixing carbs and starches with no regard for nutritional value
3 weeks ago
Optical illusions turned nine cans of whole kernel corn into four barrels of gasoline
That's senior-level chemistry
And the university says I'm 42 credits away from financial freedom
But all I see is
My stafford loan shackles waiting on the other side of the graduation stage
Subsidizing me with its interest rates
Sallie Mae says do the math
Replace the variables with numbers and I got
Angry cause I know a corporate company made millions this year
And was given more than $300 from the government
Professor said No Princess
The answer is 1
One chance to get it right
Or you fail
8/28/08
A rare blog post
It's been a while, so the site deserves a little update.
I've been going to Fort Worth's dedicated poetry spot, The Embargo, faithfully for the last six months. I read 90% of the time I'm there and I've even slammed a few times. The atmosphere is so welcoming and inviting that there's no problem with going up and performing.
At the beginning of this month, I traveled to Madison, WI for the National Poetry Slam Finals to support my girlfriend and Fort Worth Slams. I met so many talented and friendly poets there. The experience was great and helped to cultivate my work.
I performed in the two solo slams, advancing to the second round in both but failing to qualify for the second round. I chop that up to me not having a huge repertoire of diverse poems that I'm confident in just yet.
Now that I'm back, I've started several pieces, but haven't finished nearly as many as I would have liked. Hopefully I can do that soon and well.
My goal now is to make the Fort Worth Slam Team, and I will do it.
On campus, I'm also starting a poetry group so we can have weekly open mics there and hopefully bring in local and national spoken word poets for features.
Just so you know, the poems that were posted in August were after I got back from nationals.
I've been going to Fort Worth's dedicated poetry spot, The Embargo, faithfully for the last six months. I read 90% of the time I'm there and I've even slammed a few times. The atmosphere is so welcoming and inviting that there's no problem with going up and performing.
At the beginning of this month, I traveled to Madison, WI for the National Poetry Slam Finals to support my girlfriend and Fort Worth Slams. I met so many talented and friendly poets there. The experience was great and helped to cultivate my work.
I performed in the two solo slams, advancing to the second round in both but failing to qualify for the second round. I chop that up to me not having a huge repertoire of diverse poems that I'm confident in just yet.
Now that I'm back, I've started several pieces, but haven't finished nearly as many as I would have liked. Hopefully I can do that soon and well.
My goal now is to make the Fort Worth Slam Team, and I will do it.
On campus, I'm also starting a poetry group so we can have weekly open mics there and hopefully bring in local and national spoken word poets for features.
Just so you know, the poems that were posted in August were after I got back from nationals.
8/22/08
Give Me Back Those Minutes
It sickens me to talk to you but
Here I am cause
You need to hear a true American story
About a beautiful girl who lost parts of herself in that sandbox you tricked thousands into playing in
She loves Double Stuf Oreos and gentle kisses on her 3rd eyelids
Spontaneous giggly moments and making love
And not necessarily in that order
And me
She's the epitome to my crescendo
But every once in a while we hear a sour note that sounds too much reveille
Arlington Texas ain't Baghdad Iraq
But she still flinches when cars alarm a little too long
Look I know you didn't do it on purpose
But since you like to play God
I need you to reach into your bag and give me back those minutes
When poetic imagery and unfinished buildings butterfly effect her back to 2003
And she can't speak
Her eyes swirl sand like hourglass
And I'm dealing with Pfc. Brown - not Bee
Hopeless cause my kisses can't stop her tremble
I can't spit a love poem loud enough to drown out the mortar bombs
My embrace isn't tight enough to squeeze life back in the battle buddies she watched die
Yea, she made it back from Iraq
But pieces of her subconscience still ended up in body bags
I want you
To erase all the awkwardness I feel because while she was fighting off sargeants and insurgents
I was smoking weed and drinking cheap vodka
Show me the pieces I will never see
Because she can't bear to put her lips together and tell me
George
I know you didn't do it on purpose
But whatever's going on over there ain't bringing our soldier back fully intact
There's some instructions your orders definitely lacked
So for you I order this
That every bowl of Alphabets you eat spells out IED, PTSD, FAKE WMD
That you hear spirits whispering cadence in your dreams
And one day
A grieving relative who's loved one got reduced to a number, or a phrase, or a vegetable
Carves death into your chest before repositioning that ignorant grin you proudly wear between your jugulars
Because that's how much I love her
That's how much we love them
And every moment spent trying to suture close 600 mile wide wounds is a lesson in futility
We don't wanna feel like this
Like nerds fighting off bullies with math problems
Like mothers wanting to kiss away ouchies with no lips
Give us back those minutes
They just add to the seven years you wasted in a winless war
And maybe then we can get some closure
We
Us
The soldiers
The families
The lovers
The friends
And I
Can have my beautiful girl
All to myself
Here I am cause
You need to hear a true American story
About a beautiful girl who lost parts of herself in that sandbox you tricked thousands into playing in
She loves Double Stuf Oreos and gentle kisses on her 3rd eyelids
Spontaneous giggly moments and making love
And not necessarily in that order
And me
She's the epitome to my crescendo
But every once in a while we hear a sour note that sounds too much reveille
Arlington Texas ain't Baghdad Iraq
But she still flinches when cars alarm a little too long
Look I know you didn't do it on purpose
But since you like to play God
I need you to reach into your bag and give me back those minutes
When poetic imagery and unfinished buildings butterfly effect her back to 2003
And she can't speak
Her eyes swirl sand like hourglass
And I'm dealing with Pfc. Brown - not Bee
Hopeless cause my kisses can't stop her tremble
I can't spit a love poem loud enough to drown out the mortar bombs
My embrace isn't tight enough to squeeze life back in the battle buddies she watched die
Yea, she made it back from Iraq
But pieces of her subconscience still ended up in body bags
I want you
To erase all the awkwardness I feel because while she was fighting off sargeants and insurgents
I was smoking weed and drinking cheap vodka
Show me the pieces I will never see
Because she can't bear to put her lips together and tell me
George
I know you didn't do it on purpose
But whatever's going on over there ain't bringing our soldier back fully intact
There's some instructions your orders definitely lacked
So for you I order this
That every bowl of Alphabets you eat spells out IED, PTSD, FAKE WMD
That you hear spirits whispering cadence in your dreams
And one day
A grieving relative who's loved one got reduced to a number, or a phrase, or a vegetable
Carves death into your chest before repositioning that ignorant grin you proudly wear between your jugulars
Because that's how much I love her
That's how much we love them
And every moment spent trying to suture close 600 mile wide wounds is a lesson in futility
We don't wanna feel like this
Like nerds fighting off bullies with math problems
Like mothers wanting to kiss away ouchies with no lips
Give us back those minutes
They just add to the seven years you wasted in a winless war
And maybe then we can get some closure
We
Us
The soldiers
The families
The lovers
The friends
And I
Can have my beautiful girl
All to myself
8/20/08
Starry-less Nights
City lights block my answers
Longing for the time solutions could be found in constellations
I resort to searching the dripped dried paint of my bedroom ceiling for comfort
The main light fixture my moon, smoke detector my polaris
But the white stucco only yields animals and clowns
As futile as watching clouds in an afternoon sky, hoping you and
A friend can guess what the next marshmallow will make
I don't like playing games cause
"When in doubt pick C" doesn't always work for me
I need some kind of certainty
Dependent on man made creations, no longer turning to God's eyes
Much rather listen to man's thoughts
With light pollution swallowing our dreams whole
Maybe that's why they say country life is easy
All the answers show themselves at night and under the stars solice can be found
But the hustle and bustle of suburbia serves as its own answer key
Little kids count the artificial stars of helicopters and airplanes
Never learning to look to the heavens when times get rough
Cause all they can see is darkness
And they can just look forward, backward, left right and down
if they want to see that
Singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, how I wonder WHERE you are?
Kids dreaming astronomical dreams turned unrealistic fantasies
of flying comets and shooting stars
Unrealistic cause "Who shoots stars?"
When cars are easier targets
Mama said I can't see the forest for the trees
But if all my evergreens look like lamp posts, what does that mean?
A starry-less night for a hopeless people
Didn't study for this test and can't peek up for clues
City lights block my answers
And I'm pretty sure
They block yours too
Longing for the time solutions could be found in constellations
I resort to searching the dripped dried paint of my bedroom ceiling for comfort
The main light fixture my moon, smoke detector my polaris
But the white stucco only yields animals and clowns
As futile as watching clouds in an afternoon sky, hoping you and
A friend can guess what the next marshmallow will make
I don't like playing games cause
"When in doubt pick C" doesn't always work for me
I need some kind of certainty
Dependent on man made creations, no longer turning to God's eyes
Much rather listen to man's thoughts
With light pollution swallowing our dreams whole
Maybe that's why they say country life is easy
All the answers show themselves at night and under the stars solice can be found
But the hustle and bustle of suburbia serves as its own answer key
Little kids count the artificial stars of helicopters and airplanes
Never learning to look to the heavens when times get rough
Cause all they can see is darkness
And they can just look forward, backward, left right and down
if they want to see that
Singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, how I wonder WHERE you are?
Kids dreaming astronomical dreams turned unrealistic fantasies
of flying comets and shooting stars
Unrealistic cause "Who shoots stars?"
When cars are easier targets
Mama said I can't see the forest for the trees
But if all my evergreens look like lamp posts, what does that mean?
A starry-less night for a hopeless people
Didn't study for this test and can't peek up for clues
City lights block my answers
And I'm pretty sure
They block yours too
To me, she's perfect
I never believed in perfection
No matter what
Trying to erect while picket fences around apartment complexes
Didn't look right
So I gave up my dream of mounted Prince Charmings
Until her
When we met this soldier kept nothing private
Proudly showing her flaws and battle scars
Thinking it'd scare me away
Her hands calloused form too tightly gripping her trust
Bruised tailbones from one too many kicks from life to her butt
Her last left her so tired that at night
She screams out restless energy in the form of mumbled words
She constantly spits poetry when she gets tired of tasting rejection, abuse and misuse
But to me, she's perfect
She's what I asked for
Her imperfections are like masterpieces
And sometimes she has the audacity to say
She's trying to get skinny for me
A honeybee
On the defensive after beekeeper after beekeeper
Kept pimpin' her for her honey
Trappin' her inside the hive never to be free
I don't usually deal in the permanent
But she makes me wanna write my emotions in ink and
tattoo her name on my intentions and my skin
As long as she loves me
I'll reinforce my cocoon to metamorphize me because
I wanna be an insect too
Not the same species - bees and butterflyz
And my wings may not flap as fast as yours
But I promise I'll work to keep up
Because to me, you're perfect
And you can't leave
Your kisses taste too much like eternal bliss
and I love the stickiness of your honey-coated touch
I never believed in perfection
Until I let love slap and snap me back to reality
Change my perception because
Perfection is in the eye of the beholder
No matter what
Trying to erect while picket fences around apartment complexes
Didn't look right
So I gave up my dream of mounted Prince Charmings
Until her
When we met this soldier kept nothing private
Proudly showing her flaws and battle scars
Thinking it'd scare me away
Her hands calloused form too tightly gripping her trust
Bruised tailbones from one too many kicks from life to her butt
Her last left her so tired that at night
She screams out restless energy in the form of mumbled words
She constantly spits poetry when she gets tired of tasting rejection, abuse and misuse
But to me, she's perfect
She's what I asked for
Her imperfections are like masterpieces
And sometimes she has the audacity to say
She's trying to get skinny for me
A honeybee
On the defensive after beekeeper after beekeeper
Kept pimpin' her for her honey
Trappin' her inside the hive never to be free
I don't usually deal in the permanent
But she makes me wanna write my emotions in ink and
tattoo her name on my intentions and my skin
As long as she loves me
I'll reinforce my cocoon to metamorphize me because
I wanna be an insect too
Not the same species - bees and butterflyz
And my wings may not flap as fast as yours
But I promise I'll work to keep up
Because to me, you're perfect
And you can't leave
Your kisses taste too much like eternal bliss
and I love the stickiness of your honey-coated touch
I never believed in perfection
Until I let love slap and snap me back to reality
Change my perception because
Perfection is in the eye of the beholder
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