My Field Site

there is something poetic about a droplet

hurling its spirit through the stratus to get your attention

poltroon to liquid honesty

grimacefully caper flesh to the yellow bellied underside of an umbrella-ed nature

scapegoated excuses lined in pinstripped lace-fronts and leatherette hand me downs

mitigating moist impact

causing it to ricochet 

misfire to the cloak of another

whoso brazenly accepted that precipitation as their own

however, never accustomed to doning the falsely accused

now parka sheaved

missing my calling in haste to flee yours

needing for moments no longer kef to your uncertainty

wishing to be saturated in divinity

decisions made

...naked...

walked down desolate street

absorbed in the "should be's"

[found peace today]

Magical Christmas Lights

There was a time of innocence,

Tinsel, garland, and popcorn string,

Little darlings outside would sing,

I wondered what would Santa bring.

Childhood memories will never fade,

I do miss our Christmas parades.

Now I celebrate all alone,

Except my friends Smith and Wesson,

They said we brought you a present.

I go to greet them, but ring, ring.

Hello?  Who is this?  Santa Clause?

I really love you too Mommy.

I’m coming over with the lights.

New Hampshire Got It Right {“Live Free or Die”}

Do you hear it?

Do you smell it?

Oh boy, you sure can feel it.

The stench of Crony Capitalism and Corporate Fascism that has brought greed,

And narcissism to the down center stage spot light that now the masses must even opine.

Pepper spray is a rainbow to some.

Rubber bullets are a thanksgiving treat to others.

Corporate failures that should have a ‘Going out of business’ sign get the greatest government bailout in

American History, you A.I.G., Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, Federal Reserve mother fuckers.

Where’s my bailout?!

OWS individuals are called ‘Lazy’ and told ‘Get a job!’

So to you two party system elephant and donkey cool aid Jonestown drinking fools,

Let it be said that no one did anything in the face of tyranny.

OWS:

Only when satisfied we will leave.

Narcissistic Fascists Suck

Anderson Cooper, the CNN asp, Bill O’Reilly, the Fox cobra, and Rachel Madow, the MSNBC rattler.

Many mistook this triune snake for objective journalism.

Eagerly tuning into their favorite commentator’s personality of poison.

Rich in your corporate paychecks earned with or without integrity,

I do not doubt you all sleep like babies.

Calling you out is a simple change of the channel but,

Acid in my brain I flip back to watch like a bee to honey or a crack to a plumbers butt,

Turning my head left or right and up to down,

Help, please, someone help me from kicking in the screen!

Everybody plays a fool sometime,

Lies are no exception to the rule.

And now you do what they told ya!  And now you do what they told ya!

Now wait, what’s this thing called ‘The Internet’?

Dig deep you dungeon master nerds because your surfing a dialectical force,

Only second to Mother Nature’s ability to instantly change human behavior.

FCC and politicians bang their drums for net neutrality,

Too much free unregulated information for the masses is anathema.

Hopes and dreams of those rightly pursuing their happiness,

End up in dumpsters marked for EPA recycling.

Fascist forces prop up the elite oligarchies.

Run, run, run.

Evade, adapt or you go splat.

Ending with a tsunami of hyper-inflation, your T.V. masturbation causes massive emotional starvation.

Struggle Addictions

Voids.

Crowded voids.

Impossible crowded voids.

Voids occupy a space.

Impossible voids occupy a space.

Disgust.  Anguish.  Resentment.  Hopelessness.  Fear.  Grief. 

There is no peace to be found.

Why does it always have to be negative?

I may be in pain, but I choose the light!

I will ride the light waves to victory.

This light even escapes the black hole voids.

I did not create the light.

Who originated all the voids?

No blame game here.

Light rebukes voids.

Nothing random.

Choose.

The Color Wheel

I.

I’ve traced his migration here his Painted flags carried in his eyes and hanging from his doorposts his parents flying high waving the truth that they weren’t born here.

I try to backtrack through my own.

A living testament to your histories green card acceptance what path brought you to this place?

Row homes shoved beside people your history never dreamed you live next too south Philly has forced you to realize who you are.

Your flags not Irish or Mexican, Vietnamese, or Japanese.

Its red white and blue.

Stop trying to trace it back further.

II.

I move, place my feet in patterned rhythms, twirling through my present pain I am dancing.

Ballet leaps on cobbled stone steps of my new home I am trying to fit in here.

Realizing I cant Mambo more than those that made it up I have gotten tired faster than I thought I would.

My history can’t manifest a new movement through another person’s back-story I have to discover my own.

Realizing its just okay to be black.

Not banging drums of kente cloth African dance moves but black

A Negro spiritual is about as far back as you go.

Your soul resides in its song.

III.

I saw my history today.

Wrapped in swaddling clothes carried on the back of whip ripped flesh I don’t know how I got there.

Or where it’s going.  What cross it’s carrying.

Drugging through southern back woods Louisiana lynch dreams I saw my history move on toward Calvary.

Sacrificing its self for my future being.

My history realized it was black today.

Not dark skinned or light but the stigma of black carrying bullet shots and ghetto slang and Barack Obama all in the same name I made a discovery about me today.

Saw myself move toward the love of those who may have but a sliver of connection to me we are a people.

Made up of a heart full of nations I don’t know the name of all having migratory patterns landing us in a barrier 50 states and locking us to a share future.

My future stopped caring about what our separated pasts were it just saw your flesh tones.

And decided you could understand.

And understanding.

Agree to fight the oppression of the color wheel.

Philly Stew

Bits of food and flavor mix in the can of my Philly.

Chinese chicks tote chickens while white women push babies with baskets of baked treats.

My soup is HOT.

Campbell’s cant spice like my Philly and Progressive cant process the sounds and smells of the melting pot.

Its time you sup on the music of cheesecake symphonies and feast your eyes on the mixture of my home.

I can’t ladle you out a portion of it.

But you can smell this stew.

Raw fish fries beside buckets of fresh fruit ripe for my picking then cut and sliced to fit the blend of my streets and those who live in them

A fusion of the past where Vietnam vets bleed, and my amigos work then sing praises cuz they are fed, I am home here.

Streets so riddled with compound cultures you can taste it.

Take it home, warm it up, and be content in knowing that your palate has been expanded just by walking down the street.

TU Advisory

Is there an echo in here?

I could swear I heard that same gunfire just last night:

The first shot, Isolated, hesitant,

Then an answering triplet when the shooter concludes

He's past the Point of No Return.

The next morning Campus Safety tells the story

Sterilized: a block and time, a shooting in two

Sentences, with no blood. And the news breaks

And we reflect again on the tension:

Gentrified Temple, our ivory tower

Just a block too near the slums.

On Friday night

Drunken twenty-something white kids in troupes

Troop past drunken forty-something residents on stoops

We fear their violence; they hate our arrogance

And chafe with the disparity of opportunity

Too close to home to ignore.

On Eleventh Street, a foreign studies major

Buys groceries for a fifty-something neighbor

With arthritic knees. She invites him to dinner.

It's a good story, a better story,

But it lacks the gunpowder to resonate.

I N V U

When I say I envy

You, I mean I envy

The choices and chances you had,

Nothing more.  See, love,

I used to say, love,

That the world never stops

For us, that there is no pause

In life's brutal rhythm,

And whatever it throws at us,

Our tired feet must find

Some way to stay in step.

But that wasn't true

For you, was it?

When you fell apart, everything

Ground to a halt—I 

Ground to a halt—

But for every dollar and every

Day spent on your well-being

You couldn't be well.

I never got that opportunity. 

The drums never stopped

Beating for me; throbbing behind

My temples in the space between

Asleep and awake.  I was left to wait

To watch our money run out without

Your income and try to keep

Our roof over my head.

There was no recovery for me

No respite from the hard world

On Daddy's dime.  I never told you:

I couldn't cry for four months after

You left.  Careening on the brink, I wrote

Truth disguised as fiction and fiction

disguised as poetry.  Finally it all poured

Out, sobs and screams and the words

“I love you every damn day—”

I still do, you know, though

Every damn day now your fingerprints

Fade a little more from my skin. 

Once I admitted I was in mourning

I couldn't stop.  I sank deeper into it

With each month.  But still there was

No rest: I had bills to pay and flooded

Apartments to flee: It's not always sunny

Here, no matter what the television says.

Not all of us get to live at a halfway

House in a Florida suburb. 

Every raindrop was another beat,

And I kept my bloody feet dancing

And threw back my head and sang

Sisyphus' song: I embraced

My rugged fate.

But beneath reality's callus

There's still that boy in me

Who drove six hours to take

You dancing on the sand

That night you felt too alien

To face your own senior prom.

I envy the choices and chances

You had.  If you'd given the same

To me, maybe this could have lived.

We Shall Not

'We shall not be moved'

Rings hollow when we're picked

Up and thrown out, kicking

And screaming The Whole World

Is Watching—but there's a blind

Spot when the cameramen

Are the first to go. 

There's a gang of boys stomping

Anthills: it's so much easier

To kick something over than

To create it.  We might look

Like insects under your boot but

Damnit we toiled for this

Two months undone in hours.

Resurrection City is in

A dumpster in Lower Manhattan,

Our footprints pressure-washed

Away. I had a dream

until

The helicopters enforcing

The no-fly zone woke me up.

Justice for all is a city

councilman arrested

bleeding from the head. The nexus

In our protest against corporations

In bed with government is policed

By a billionaire mayor sleeping

With a Brookfield Properties chair.

Now what can we say? We

Shall Not—what, Be Silenced?

That works, until brain damage

Leaves us mute.  We Shall Not

Be Subverted Or Privatized—

They're noble words, but

Time will tell. 

I can only promise this:

WE SHALL NOT go gentle into that

Good night.  Forgive me, America,

If this sounds like a shot fired;

I meant no offense.  Don't take

these words too harshly; it's a jest,

A rubber bullet.

Docutrines of Grace

In full disclosure:

I think I always knew

You wouldn't choose

Me.  Every weekend, singing

Your songs, something about that

Harmony rang hollow in the space

Between my soul and solar

Plexus.  There were potted tulips

By the podium last time I dragged

Myself to Your house of praise. 

It was high spring.  I haven't returned.

Now everything is falling and rotting

Like Your greatest disciples said this

World would. I was going to be one

Of them once, a warrior for You, at least

I told myself—but there was always

That falling, rotting doubt stuck deep,

Like glass embedded in my sole, scraping

As I tried to march toward You. 

I've read some books and I know now

That You built this into me:

The Blood of the Lamb

Is only enough for so many,

After all. 

Welcome to the cosmic kickball game:

I'm back in middle school gym class

Waiting against the wall

God and the Devil dividing up teams

For the Armageddon playoff.

I'm straining forward when You look at me

And there's this glow in Your eyes like

Pity—not enough, though, to change

Your choice.  You need a faster runner,

A stronger kicker, and I'm left watching

As they heed the call to Your side. 

Irresistible grace

Means they couldn't say no if they

Tried, like total depravity

Means for all my desperate glances

I'm powerless when the Adversary comes.

We all go to our separate locker rooms

Just like you planned it before the dawn

Of time. Remember that,

When you preheat the lake of fire for me.

Do I get a consolation prize?  All

These years running after You

Seem wasted if I was never

Meant to catch up.  Your best

Scholars wrote books on election

And they say only You elect:

My choice is predestined.

Maybe that's why Holy Writ

Turns to ash in my mouth.

In a limited atonement economy

There's no upward mobility;

My perseverance never meant a

Damn thing, but pardon me if I can't

Take my damnation like a man. 

I have a few questions before I begin

My weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Before You formed me in the womb

You knew me and marked me to burn:

What kind of god is that?  Will You

Answer for Yourself, Adonai,

Or as kindling for the flames am I

Still unworthy of speech? Our Father

Who Art In Heaven, You have

To say something

Abba

Daddy

Please

I don't know

Why You're doing this

I'm smaller and weaker

And I know I was never

Your favorite son

But I'm still your son, dammit,

I'm still your son

Sleep On Box Day

on suburban street

the cars pile in for the festivities

christmas lights gleam off the packages wrapped in foil

mother yells, yuh nuh see dem don’t want di food to spoil

The Jamaicans are here

adults and picknis alike drink up

wrey and him nephew spice up every –Jesus Christ ting-

di punch,

di sorrel,

di egg nog,

uncle freddy and him  daughter poor some pon di cake

no christmas compares to another

every year brings a different feel

carols include

RING A LING A LING

SCHOOL BELL A RING

KINFE AND FORK FI FIGHT FOR DUMPLING

as all the americans dem pak up dem bag and pick dem gifts

we keep it going

Drink til your Drunk

Sleep on boxing day

The Silent Denial

the morning brings about the same issue from the day before

last night,

the cries of the baby filled the space with shrieking sounds

today,

the morning news serves as the wake up call

cereal floods a bowl

while eggs scramble on the stove

two cars leave,

on occasion, one returns earlier in the day

sounds of love are made in a bed belonging to another

no cute cuddling because there is no time for lingering

they were caught once before

two cars in the drive way by night fall

the baby coos while splats of orange drips down the wall

silent dinner

3 words said the rest the baby

they live in the silent denial of their relationship

dirty looks are exchanged

but they know why they are there

cries of the baby fill the space

with shrieking sounds

it always serves as the reminder

Our Bodies

our bodies

we do a magnificent thing…

with our bodies… 

mostly performed in the late night

because the candles beam brighter

long days are forgotten on these nights

longing for our bodies so close

it begins with touch

not g-spot 

but the spot

one that raises hairs on necks 

and dicks in jeans

i see his eyes

no other distractions

just me and our passion

so much held there

i stare at his soul

my boy begins to fall 

tightly cradled in arms 

brown skin always looks good in cream sheets

soft lips caress hard tips

soon this strong black man begins his descent

back to neck

ears to head

my fingers sooth his fade

convulsions erupt from the vaginal volcano

where the god has chosen to dine

minutes of pleasure appear as moments of euphoria

whispers…

shuffling sheets lead to black on black crime

i am sentenced to silence

no pillows to stop the shrieks

your baton used to punish me

strokes from the back, side, front…

minutes of pleasure appear as moments of elatenment

i bite his covering fingers

i have slipped out of control

my pussy speaks for me now

I have now given up the reins 

every move I make is controlled by him

felt by him 

with him always knowing what’s next

we ascend to an unbreathable space 

he has given me a rare and special gift 

come 

came

came again

i want to bring him to where he has raised me

moist grounds are plummeted

as he re enters

with no reinforcements

he reinforces

his thrust

minutes of pleasure appear as moments of ecstasy

there is no pill

i teeter on the edge

but strong hands hold tight

position…

steady…

rising…

relief.

declivity is not easy to obtain

somehow we get there

brown eyes close…

we do this magnificent thing… 

with our bodies.

Executive Memo RE: The Occupy Movement

Dear employees of the 1%,

Everyone has become obsessed with the 99%

Since 04 Jay Z has been talkin bout these bitches

But history shows that eventually it all falls down

Your cares are no concern of ours

Your aches

Your groans,

Your moans

Your strikes or

Your plights

As a company we are tired of your water cooler conversations on joining the resistance

My minor corporate infractions are nothing compared to your misdemeanors

Public disturbance

Obstruction of traffic

Human litter crowds the concrete

So now you occupy…

As employees of our company, we strongly advise you to continue all services necessary for me to run my life

The bus driver seats

The secretary stations

The blackboards in the school

The garbage on the street

Dissention will not be tolerated

Please make this memo top priority!

Brown Girls

Koco’s nail salon
Owned by Brown girls who believe
In our money
They took a chance in
Creating business for us
To make black profit
Innovators who
Recognize Brown Girl’s beauty
Blooms from the inside
When you walk by there
You can hear self-love talks and
Grown women Giggles
Community made
By faces that look like me
Giving back is free

Empty House

In the hood, there is

No Santa, like No Daddy

Just moms still trying

I Promise

I promise I’ll wipe your tears

I promise I’ll clean food off your soft round face

I promise I’ll hold you close when the pain feels too real

I promise to tie your shoes, and wash your clothes until you learn how

And I’ll hold your hand tight when you find your feet’s first steps

I promise I’ll pick you up when your arms reach for me

And I’ll sing you small lullabies.

I promise to show you your colors and letters and seasons and animals

I promise I’ll drop you off on time, and pick you up on time

And cheer for you win or loss

I promise I’ll help you through the tough times

I promise I won’t break you the way you’ll break me

I promise I’ll wait for you to come back

I promise I’ll wipe your tears

Come Up To Short

1, 2 eyelashes

3, 4 lips

5, 6

Nose and ring respectively

7, 8 dark circles

9, 10, 11 scars on my face

self made by self same hands.

Destruction in the deconstruction of

supposed blemishes I find daily on me.

Plucking poking pinching peeling

so as not to see any bumps.

Anything that will make like she was,

mother.

Who’s face festered and oozed.

Nightmares flooding my mind at night.

What can I do to rid my self of this

            self-perpetuated curse. (I hide my face.)

Her beauty rendered from inward out

My disdain/arrogance borne from outward in

Qualities of me inherited by the

            lesser parts

Of my family.

Blemished, short, hairy wild, confused, disorderly.

Kind, compassionate, nonchalant.

But I’ve learned to be grateful for the gifts

Of speech and insight, vision, truth, love, hope

            beyond what is physical.

I’ve inherited a kingdom of history

A world of knowledge

And thought this small vessel may seem at most times

Incapable of carrying the load

My ancestors help me.

Who Am I To Judge

I always see you

You smile like the worlds okay

You walk with your head bowed

I wonder if it’s to pray

_You’ve been through it

In your eyes traumatic scenes replay

And nothing is as flawless as what you try to portray

But who am I to judge?

_I didn’t piece your life together

Perfect puzzle

_You build yourself up

Then something happens to make it crumble

Life’s not fair

But its fun to pretend

You sign off every page of your journal with

“I wish it would end”

Thank God for the hard times

Cause when the sun rarely shines

_We start to appreciate it

While most people hate it

I love the rain

No umbrella

Smells of smoke in the air

I basque in tainted glories of my sad despair

_I’ve lived in it for a while

Can’t fathom another lifestyle

I try to read my Bible every once in a while

____Call me crazy

I’m 20 with 2 babies

Slept with a older man cause I thought that he would pay me

Told him my babies were hungry

Said he’d only deal with me

Showed him my phone bill

He said he thought my love was free

Fuck that

Since I was twelve my life’s been whack

Mother was barely present

Got caught up in crack

And I always caught my daddy taking peeks at my back

When he first came in my room

I didn’t even react

Guess he thought I’d make up where my mama had lacked

___He’s where I learned most sex acts

People thought I had it together

Like my life’s intact

Every night he lay inside me I would fade to black

Told me to act like I liked it

Forced me to moan and look back

He’d always whisper, “You are such a tease”

Didn’t apply to school

Application fees

Thought he would help if I did anything he pleased

That was the first day that I dropped to my knees

Ashamed

To my father I lost my virginity

The nerve to move his hands across his chest

Holy Trinity

God

I tried to stop it__

But I feel like I’ve lost my divinity

Guess he felt bad

__And the shame

He couldn’t take it

Came home from school

He had a gun to his head in the basement

I said, “Shoot,

If you did it wouldn’t be in vain,

Maybe God would forgive for the nights you made me say your name

Waking up to a nightmare and I can’t even scream

I think my life without you would be like a dream

This shit was never as simple as it seemed

How the fuck could you touch and disrupt your own seed

Pull the trigger

_____It would be a gift to see you bleed”

Then bang

Blood splatters

The gun dropped to the floor

That was his way of not hurting me anymore.

His apology

I’m sorry

Let me try again

Looking for love in men has left me with a bunch of dead ends

So please pardon my demeanor

Smiles phony

Eyes dim

Only time I feel half whole is when the choir sings hymns

Damn

Wish I had brighter story

But I made it here today giving God my tainted glory.