4 My Muse

Now I need something more, nothing less
than to fire off into cosmos
the essence of dreams
desires
any notion of conquest
for I am slain
splayed upon the alter
of words
sliced open by your tongue
sweet weapon vanquished my arrogance
destroyed conceit held false,
loss idea of who ever I might have been
without the tender image
of the sound of your words
beating endlessly
against my ears

Now I truly feel my hunger
and am awake.

Do I thank you
curse you
wish you closer
so I could
turn around
push the on button
spin the disk
play that cut over and over again
and dance with the music
spilling out of that
vastness between
you and me?

Easter 2009

So we decided to tell them the truth today
that myths don't have to be true to be important,
that they tell you things that are more significant
than what did or did not happen.

Is it really important that anyone believe that
someone rose from the dead, more than Lazarus
like as he supposedly did it without help, that he did it
because he was god, God, the Son of God?

We decided today that they could say whether or not
they went to church, we had decided a long time ago that
they could decide, if they wanted to, which place of worship
they would go and they asked us where it was we went to worship.

We had decided a long time ago that the cathedral of trees
was best for us, so we decided today that the breeze
the sun, the smiling faces of passerby's were the most
beautiful of all the sacraments not listed in the seven...

We decided today that it was not sacrilegious to believe
what we believe as we find god, God, the Daughter of God
wherever goodness resides, in the church around the corner
the mosque on the boulevard, the temple on the hill.

We decided today to teach the chant, the sacred six
of nam, myoho, renge kyo
said over and over it expresses with each breath
what we decided today was all that Spirit wanted from us...

Dog (PAD #4)

she wants a dog but
her mother always says no,
so she barks at night

The Problem with Memory

Fierce eyes seared into my wasted soul
like water on heated sand thirsty for new
life,

seeking to green garden with sweet gloved
hard hands you oxygenated my flinty
topsoil turning over my years of walking away

walking from the sunlight but you were the new drug; the vitamin
D deficiency I had compelled me to wanna mainline you into
every vein, every artery, pumping you so far into me

I couldn't tell the difference between us, couldn't see
where the stem ended and the leaf began, you grew me...

grew me and then forgot to prune me, forgot to water me
and just left me in that wasted pot straining to glimpse the sun
heliotroping into this twisted, gnarled Bonsai that will
never look better than this

never feel better than this, never be greener than this.

Like Dutch elm disease is a blessing cause it will
cause me to wither and die, a tree better in my memory.
Not looking at all like I do in reality

The problem is that, Johnny Appleseed like,
I know you will do this again, be water to thirsty souls again
like some tragic Greek story doomed to repeat itself
there will soon be a forest of dead trees looking
never better than me...

Saint Bridget's Other (PAD Day 2)

You had the same nun the rich
girl had in eighth grade

they called her Bulldog cause she was so short
and grumpy

and you were no Grace Kelly, no
you weren't like any of the others

rich and poor they no longer
fought about being Irish or Italian

they fought over you, Nigger Boy
or Chuck, just another kid from the projects.

One of them or one of us? Which one
you quickly found out and after awhile

it no longer mattered who it was that
called you that name.

Your fist was your best friend, sainted
hand of retribution

Full of all the grace you ever
needed.

Day One PAD Challenge

A poetry test/
write one of these e'ery day/
be sure it makes sense

Her Eyes

Looked at a picture the other day and all I saw were
her eyes
reminding me of the first time, the best time I saw her
and those eyes,
fresh, unvarnished by our desire, our attraction,
Pure spirit, waves of energy, joy of discovery...

"Someone like you exists...?" the thought pulsated through
me and swept away macho manhood turning me into
that little kid, you know the one, nose pressed against storefront glass
saying, "Mommy, can I have one of...you?" over and over again

Until she gave me those eyes, looked right into me and swallowed me
into another dimension, another not-so-parallel universe
where I was...another me, braver and more of a coward than here
stronger to be me and more afraid to loose whatever this was, whatever this could become,
tenuous with each breath held in
dying until she stopped looking at me
exhaling only the other day when

I looked at a picture
and saw a past that never really existed
saw time spun off on an axis of fantasy
but
shit, but those eyes were still beautiful

gazing through my lens
reminding me of that moment
false hope, nostalgia the longing
for a past that never existed except in this moment
holding a piece of worthless paper, containing colors
of dreams vaporizing behind,
her eyes, and my whimsical wish
to never leave that time, that place

Sitting there I could dig all those silly poems
I ever wrote her, all the times I stood before
an audience and praised the way I felt about
another person who never deserved a single moment
because of the lies
behind her eyes
were the perfect disguise
all I ever needed to believe.
It was all inspirational, served a purpose
made me feel good about myself now
cause all I see is how beautiful they are
when

I looked at a picture
just a picture
and felt nothing
but appreciation
for her eyes...

Ain't Nobody

Cocooned in the darkness
warm blankets shielding you
from a reality you cannot fathom

it hits you

no one comes to save you

Shedding covers
you stand up and
dance
your way out the door
into the sunlight

feeling the music
inside your heart
ain't nobody
playing but you now
solo

Lost until the beat
echos back
drum
sax
bass
guitar

Choir
raise the voices
ain't nobody
can't sit still for this
we all be dancing now...
ain't nobody
still
ain't nobody
quiet
ain't nobody
accepting this reality
as it is
ain't nobody
not trying to make it
all it can be

musically delightful
layered, textured
full of grace

ain't nobody
not needing that

ain't nobody
cocooned hopelessly
waiting
cause
ain't nobody
but you
to do this thing...

Lost and Found (For my children, Robert and Esther)

I want my god back, my soul requires it. I lost him somewhere between my Catholic grade school “let’s beat up the nigger” days and my high school guidance counselor telling me I’d make a good butler.

I lost god when my New Year’s Eve hangover ushered 1973 in with the news that my hero, Roberto Clemente, had died in Puerto Rico trying to bring help to earthquake victims.

I lost god but I know where to find him.

I want my people back, my heart demands it. I lost them somewhere between feeling odd and out of place my first day of registration at an all black college then later having a corporate customer marvel at my being so articulate.

I lost them when I heard my Achilles snap so loud like a car backfire on the basketball court and I couldn’t bang under the boards or glide to open space and rain jumpers anymore.

I lost my people but I know where to find them.

I want my history back, my family needs it. I lost it when my fist crashed into my father’s face knocking him down and out of my life. I lost it when the furious heart beating in my chest was so loud after my aunt called to say my mother had died that I couldn’t hear her words over the roar of the blood in the vessels in my ears.

I lost it when I passed, but unlike my uncles, aunts, and older cousins who did it to put bread on the table, I did it passively, sitting quite and still after someone entered a sales presentation, looked around and said, “Sure glad there aren’t any niggers in here!”

I lost my history but I know where to find it.

Where will I find my god?

I find him when Robert takes my hand in front of his friends, when he kisses me and says, “I love you dada!”

Where will I find my people?

I find them bouncing on my bed in the morning, pleading with me to get up.

Sometimes when I search for my history I sit in front of my computer, the page blank, cursor blinking. I feel Esther’s arms pressed against me like a heat pack on a damaged muscle and I feel my blood flow.

Stories

Sometimes I stare too directly into the sun
and see images burned forever onto my brain

Sometimes my heart hardens so much it cracks
from the slightest pressure

Sometimes I play my music too loud so that
the sound never leaves me

And when I hold her hand
my feet never touch the ground
as we walk together

But it's all just a dream

I never stare at the sun, never have been
a hard man, never play sweet music too loudly

But once, I do remember,
I held her hand, and finally yesterday
my feet came back to earth

The Bigger Game

splat...
there I was in little pieces
thrown up against the wall

watching closely
the viscera would contain clues
of who I was
of what I was to say
and why
it was worthy of being said.

all I had to do was stomach the mess
pick through the sticky parts
clean them like mamma's people
cleaned parts of unsightly,
smelly things I could never eat

but they kept us all alive,

watching closely
I could see my history
and my future
slide down the wall
and,
if I wasn't
careful
be washed away
after all the savory meat
was taken
and
neatly packaged,

be washed away
like so much waste
when it was
all I was
all I could be

gone
if I wouldn't, couldn't say it
messy as it was
it was still me.

Still me,
here in all my flawed glory
The man my mamma wished me to be

Most times,

But I ain’t perfect, I ain’t that nice a guy;

I’m a new pornographer at times
spreading incendiary devices called words,
called sexy, big-titted ideas of new world order
new world peace,
and I fuck order
to champion disorder.

I champion people without a voice,
dead brown people walking around in white face

Dead white people walking around in minstrel,
wanna be black,
wanna be cool face

Champion nerdy people, champion people thinking they ain’t need no champion

dead ass muthafukka’s walking around thinking they livin’
dead ass muthafukka’s walking around thinking they givin’
givin something of value to the world cause they got theirs
got theirs
and you,
you got yours to get
but fuck you for now
fuck you ‘til you get to where they at…

I am stepping up and I will champion you

Why?

Cause if it don’t take more than you to do it,
you ain’t playin the bigger game
and it’s time to stop playin so small,
it’s time to play beyond our potential,
it’s time to say
fuck the self help book

and be somebody
else’s help book…

So I watch closely the path I walk
and the way I walk it,
I look at my history
and I see my future in it,

I look at you
and see the mirror held up to me
and will always know
that there are still ways
that I have
yet
to measure up

Say it,
it is worthy of being said…
Be it
Power

Say it,
it is worthy of being said…
Be it
Love

Say it
It is worthy of being said
Be it
Peace

Starlight Gazing

Starlight gazing while driving home

I wondered

how

ancient sailors

found their way

when the map seemed so much

more

fascinating

than the destination

But isn't that

what wise ones

tell us

about happiness?

It is a journey,

a quest

a striving for all

you can learn

a desire

for the

best

life

can

offer

So I seek you

night after night, in the dark skies

My compass pointing towards you,

the Star

pulling me in

with that beguiling way

you have with the cosmos,

shifting planets out of their orbits

kissing stars

firing up quasars

dancing on Saturn's rings

Trailing after you Haley's comet refuses to wait its allotted 76 years

Hale-Bopp wants to salsa dance with you to mambos, cha-chas, and rumbas

Not quite able to match that rhythm right there in your hips

the sun creates a glorious dawn

and tries to sneak into your window

and steal one of your fabulous kisses.

But I find my way there first, last, and always and

in that universe called your bed we form a constellation that's sensual yin and yang

Endless warm hugs, head nudges, fingers intertwined I lay there with you

mourning the faded stars until

you

open

your

eyes.

And then my dream begins

A walking, breathing, heart-pounding vision

awakens in my arms, and the world

can now spin on its axis,

ocean tides

can wash up on our beaches,

babies can suckle

at their mothers' breasts.

Commerce may start between people

because

There are no more nations because of you

There are no more wars because of you

There are no more borders because of you

There are no more brown, yellow, white, or black people because of you!

Because of you, the Goddess has returned

and those men who would divide us

are filled with something

stronger

than

their

desire

to

possess

Anything

But

Their

Own souls

For they can see Love walk among us

And she is beauty outlined by the trail of butterflies and singing birds
nestling in trees and bushes in the dusk
watching the heavens spin day to night and
the moon rises
as she travels
home
to me!



while I
am
starlight gazing.

Lilies and Stones/Breathless

She loves flowers, he collect rocks
smooth stones really,
with odd shapes and round.

Once having killed the only plants he ever cared for
this is his way of remembering
moments.

The flowers…
they were

African Violets
they grew fat, big, and purple

the green leaves
a reminder of a instinctual song that once faded away

sung quietly with samba rustling along with the story
of the two of them, swaying with the beat

She brought the music back
he was the drum she the melody

Intermittent, moody one moment
Seemingly careless
to his longing in her way
the next

He never knows what she is thinking
she says she doesn’t have the words
to say what she would have to say

Makes him wonder
just how foolish he can
feel…how crazy he has become for love.

Then the next moment is magic
and her glance tells him everything
he could ever wish to know

Soft, easy words float
from her mouth
with the hint of her kiss
the period of every sentence.

Truth, though never absolute,
is felt more than heard
waves of her force echo
long after her last word
vibrates off into infinity.

Are their truths so different?
he muses:

like lilies and stones
gathered in a garden
arranged, zen-like
to create a serenity
they may never know

for more than
a moment…

But the keepsakes
of their moments
rest easy in his heart
arranged by shape, sound
or feelings.

interesting he notes
they seem to be weightless
until he holds them separately

Shifting in a spiral
going up and down
each pass familiar
just with a different

view

Ah, here’s the one
when they first met

talisman of wonder
he carries it in his pocket.

precious, warm, close to his body

And he pictures white
lilies, lots of white lilies
surrounding a single thought
captured but a breath away from her lips

he knows there are many realities,
but this is
the one
where he fully lives.

Too Fucking Smooth

There was a time
when the brother was called a
cat.

Cool, sophisticated, urbane and smooth

with the veiled threat of incomprehensible violence
right there
visible
like ripples of muscle
under smooth skin

Claws retracted within
nimble fingers on quick moving hands
holding cigarettes
or a saxophone

When he slid into a room
quiet almost
undetected

you knew he was there because of the force of his presence

He stood there still, taking in the scene

His vibe like the purring of a satisfied feline
who had just eaten

and been stroked to a level of satisfaction
that other men could not know.

Yeah
the brother used to be called cat

Hep cat, cool cat, bad mutherfucking cat,
cut you in a New York minute you fuck with him cat

Cruising through with

Music

Like Miles, Monk,
Rashan Roland Kirk,
or Coltrane filtering
through , music you can hear but can’t quite identify.

When he walked,
the sound
of his polyrhythmic footfalls
made the sidewalks drums,

made the streets pathways to the bush,

transformed you back to your ancestor self

Standing guard over the village young,
watching closely the tall grass
where you know the hunter animal lies in wait

for the juicy morsels of flesh to wander by.

Cool mutherfukka just stands there,
still

but you can feel
the tension coiled in him
like high tensile steel

You feel the chill in your blood,
the rush of adrenaline

Fight or flight.

And you be glad you got your Chucks on
so you can book at a moments notice

but no,

transfixed you stand there knowing he has better prey.

He feasts on the night

The pulse flows where only he knows, you are clueless

He knows with animal instinct

Slides up to that beauty that all others have found
both irresistible and unapproachable,
utters a short phrase and she looks at him,
regards him with danger and fascination covering her curiosity

and the next thing you know
they are gone into the night

To his lair

Yes, somewhere in the night he feeds himself

And the Cheshire cat grin finds itself on her face in the morning.

Yeah, they used to call the brother ‘Cat’

Never wonder why
now you know.

He was just
too fucking smooth
to be called anything else!

Sweet Words

sweet words
cut like daggers

when you tell me about
good things in your life

I forget all that's good in mine
and wake up to reality again

knowing that all my choices
will end with somebody's pain

better it be all mine now

so sweet words can come back again
between you and me

sweet words
I cannot hear now

without feeling
a hole in my heart

but at least I know
that its beating again

and one day will
be as happy as it can be

as happy as I allow it to be
without you

Haiku Quest

Rain, the gentle dew
Restless spirit seeking peace
Shimmering green grass...

Soft pillow the earth
mother to every nation
stand here in your tribe

Walk among people
spreading peace, where you travel
flower petals fall

Snow like, we dream on
no two alike, all the same
bleeding tears when cut

Can we settle down?
No longer restless, at peace
Brothers and Sisters

e.e.cummings on kisses vs wisdom

since feeling is first
who pays attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
-the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelid's flutter which says

we are for each other:then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

Now I dunno about you
but this dude sure hit
that nail hard and square
on the head.

I would trade a whole buncha stuff in my head for real good kisses.

And my blood definitely approves!

Wanting a Poet

You are soft lips
spread into a smile

Dimples crown your cheeks
and I wonder
what
it would be like
to kiss you.

That mouth caresses words
like waves of flames

Sets me off easily,
exploding with images you conjure
with suppleness, quickness, and grace.

I can't imagine your tongue
to be anything less
than pleasure itself.

Then you rock me with that wicked sense you have
of the world,
the way you see my weak attempts to get over on you
with meaningless words
cause you know what my game really is.

You know when I speak truth
and any time I'm not standing here
solid with my shit, is a game I cannot play
without you calling me out,
exposing me for the fool I thought
I got over being long before you were born.

You laugh, roll your eyes and snap a line at your girls
that has them looking at me like I was the
country boy seeing a skyscraper for the first time,
shocked, bewildered, and lost in concrete and asphalt,

hadn't shaken the straw out my hair,
the shit smell out my jeans.

And there you were hitting me with those eyes, those lips,
and that smile

making me grin like an idiot and throwing
my tattered bag over my sholder
and strolling down the street
like a pimp in a bad blaxploitation movie,

Like Huggy Bear bellbottoms were back in style and I
was wearing coveralls and humming John Denver or Neil Diamond songs,
looking just that foolish.

But, you are kind, take my battered ego and say,
"yes, you can sit next to me, maybe ask me out

and maybe even buy me a poem"

Night Kisses

I can still feel them
I don't even have to close my eyes
or breathe in
I can still smell you

feel you playfully kissing me
like a cat licks its milk

still feel the texture of your tongue
better than in my dreams

still feel how much I had to hold back
so you wouldn't know
how much I wanted
to keep going

pleasing you all the way through
reaching as far as I could
into you

like you reach into
me
without even trying

Effortlessly you wander
across my lips
into my mouth

setting off alarms
blazing wet fires

all over

all in
all around
so that
I can still feel them

You can do that again,
you never have to do that again
I don't want to be anything other than pleasure
fun
laughs
games
delight
for you

Pleasure in hearing our voices together
like our kisses

we both know that there are
those things that pull us away
from those sweet moments

ah, so sweet that
I can still feel them

After Dreams

Each morning dawns new,
A lotus,
Some dew,
The fading light of my dreams
and you.