Viviremos juntos o moriremos separados. Only a fool allows himself to be separated from another based on a third party’s beliefs. Like stone walls, we stand through leaning on one another, absorbing each others’ weight as others absorb ours. Walls built from uniform stones require mortar to stand. Walls built of rock in disparate shape…
I cannot explain the taste of sour brilliance rotting in the sun like fruit the chartreuse color of the number six — but I can smell it when it ripens and I cannot teach you how to feel the bristles of magic against the nape of your existence or how pink smells against sweaty feet…
I think all poets have favorite poets, and I’m no exception. What is different, perhaps, is that as my writing style changed, so did my poets. Gone are the Nikki Giovannis and Langston Hugheses from my favorite list, to be replaced by poets I’ve actually known. I’m fortunate to be in love with my favorite…
“We Wear the Mask” by Paul Laurence Dunbar We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,– This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties. Why should the world be overwise, In counting all our tears and…
I cannot dizzle upon mah Toes by Emily Cold-Ass Dickinson and Gizzoogle.net I cannot dizzle upon mah Toes– No Man instructed mah crazy ass– But oftentimes, among mah mind, A Glee possesseth me, That had I Ballet knowledge– Would put itself abroad In Pirouette ta blanch a Troupe– Or lay a Prima, mad, And though…
Originally posted on This Blog Intentionally Blank:
In honor of the Holiday Season, I am presenting my annual tribute to the real meaning of the holidays – the post-Christmas sales. Twas the Day After Christmas an’ all through the sto’ everybody was fighting for a whole lotta mo’ The stockings were tossed with the socks…
what i’ve lost can’t be regained. words spilled out of their pages erased, never to be found again. the day grows longer, but your shadows dim “what if they ask me for proof of you?” i ask as they said they might. you have gone, and perhaps returned but as a spirit, a past…
“It’s purzun,” she says or at least she would, were the Bronx in her socks instead of the south of London in her jeans. And she arises, bent, but better, awakening, shaking off the dusty din of discarded decaffeinated detritus, the daily drudge of dying promises of lies he said, of didn’ts he did and…
I wasn’t going to post this, but Maria has insisted that I do. I must apologize for the bad accent, but love kinda lingers and you do what you must. So, mon Juliette, this one is for you.
All over the world hearts pound with the rhythm Fear not of men because men must die Mind over matter and soul before flesh Angels hold a pen keep a record in time Which is passing and running like a caravan trader The world is overrun with the wealthy and the wicked But God is…
Raw, Naked Art 