Your Hands

A separate body

Is not yours to decide

Fate

It is, however, a consequence

Of an action you chose

Is it ever right to decide

Who is allowed to live and die

As if we ever earned the right of nature

It seems, rather, that you exterminate

(Yes, I must use such a powerful blow)

Out of convenience to self

You dearly love the cause

But cannot bear the burden of effect

And instead take out the pains

That guilty conscious will always provide

Upon something that you’ve been told

Is hardly even alive

Yet, where in nature do you find the living

Giving birth to the dead?

It seems politics and personal afflictions

Have caused us to distort reality

Again

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Your Hands

A separate body

Is not yours to decide

Fate

It is, however, a consequence

Of an action you chose

Is it ever right to decide

Who is allowed to live and die

As if we ever earned the right of nature

It seems, rather, that you exterminate

(Yes, I must use such a powerful blow)

Out of convenience to self

You dearly love the cause

But cannot bear the burden of effect

And instead take out the pains

That guilty conscious will always provide

Upon something that you’ve been told

Is hardly even alive

Yet, where in nature do you find the living

Giving birth to the dead?

It seems politics and personal afflictions

Have caused us to distort reality

Again

Lacking

I’ve never smiled, like ever

Somehow, I just seem to be under the weather

Bad mood, got a taste for crappy food

Wings and fries to drown the lies

Batter the truth, my lease on love is grease

I toss out in the trash

I’ve felt friendly, but the good vibes don’t last

Somebody finds me lacking, some girl I like

Finds me less than, boring, or weak

I take everything so fucking personally

I know I shouldn’t, but how can I not

I know that I was born this way, but somehow

I feel like it’s my fault

I didn’t ask to be born this way, but sometimes

God wants to be entertained a little, I guess

Stumble over air cause I lack balance

Stare at everything cause I’m just weird

I’m learning about you, but I can’t say it

Cause that’s weird too

Listening

Right corner of my eye

There goes the lighting, the purple, striking

There goes the light

Of my life

Tragically, I never thought she’d be with me

Because I never thought I could last long

With someone not named myself, I’m all

I’ve ever had, and she, she’s had friends

Take my family away from me and all I’ve got

Is pens, poems, and a twisted sense of self

Blaming myself for wrongs not my own

And the world for all of mine

But you…we weren’t a problem of mine

Or the world’s creation

Just, Times

I tried to make myself a better guy for you

But I already was

You tried to bring yourself closer to me

But you already were

I just needed to shut up and listen

Listen

Always (Me)

Tell me, do you ever think

What we could have been

When the guilt passed, and the messages

Stoped coming

Did you think of me then?

Just. When. Did. The. Pain. Stop.

For me? For you? Whenever I got on top

Did I ever? I remember so little, and so much

Transpired, but I’m always tired

So I missed your texts, your calls, so you

Found someone who wouldn’t, and didn’t

It made sense to everyone but me

So you talked to everyone but me

And now I feel like everyone is free

But me

But me?

I didn’t to make you feel this way

But I didn’t know how to be sane, for myself

Me

It’s always me

I Can Keep A Secret, Can You?

Sunsets always jolt me awake

Bus rides to and from work begin to drain

Not my body, but my mind

The things I witness in half-time

Dimmed by Demi’s sultry tunes

Be still, my heart’s freaking out

It is, though, when I see the disease

the murder, and the mystery

That to me seems not just coincidence

But subplot in a world run by governments

Hellbent on guarding life from the living

And stringing death on a line for us to grasp

As if it’s something worth fighting for

The rich don’t get richer, the poor stay poor

Because everyone’s too numb to strive

And why try if you don’t know how

I can keep a secret, can you?

Politics are a prison if you close your eyes long

Keep them open and cardboard signs

Are glued to your hands, wrists, and forehead

Keep telling me that my vote matters

But another day, another dollar

Another black brother’s blood is splattered

There go the sirens, there go our fathers

Send my mama to the altar, empty handed

But ask for a tithe to keep your million

Dollar church intact, collections pushing back

I just don’t feel confident in me

I don’t feel confident in anyone realizing

Anything

Looking Back

I look back on the things I’ve written

With patience, care, and respect

Because those are the things that I love

I look back on the things I’ve thought

With a fever pitch, anger, and purpose

Because I have a passion unconventional

I look back, however, on the things

That I didn’t think would hurt

And realize that they’ve done the most harm

Because I thought little of their impact

The pain rebounded back to me to remind

Always think before I speak

When it seems to matter little, that’s when

It matters most

Harm is never my intention, but intention

Only goes as far as the skin around my heart

It takes hands to bring it to life

And if those hands are heavy with hurt

Mine, or someone else’s

Then intentions will they forever be

Ask The Daughters

Paint a picture on the wall

Watch them defile it with lustful thoughts

Traces of their bodies stain the masterpiece

Let the justice system clean up the parts

Parents fail to put her back together again

Needles and bible thumpers push her down

The streets catch her when she’s already gone

Ugly men with shallow souls hold up a camera

She throws it back, they get a good laugh

She’s a mere spectre of what she used to be

Her soul chained to the railway tracks

Every home has an open door for her

But what is home without love

Every outreach center reaches inwardly

Another poster girl for their selfish causes

Who cares about her trivialities? Her pain?

Who’s to tell her she can be beautiful again?

Broken systems born from shallow men

Turn these women to the streets again

But don’t ask us

Ask the blood on the sidewalk

And the daughters without names

By Nature

Downtrodden grass marks the path

Of a man who’s walked too often

To the corner of the street

And back

Afraid to push past his limitations

Unaware that he even can

The shingles are loose, the mailbox

Long emptied of past due subscriptions

Nobody cares that he’s hanging

By the thinnest of threads

A brown recluse by nature

The world strung him up and asked

Be an orb weaver, or we’ll weave you

A single life with unemployment checks

And student loans beyond reconcile

The world asks us to spin webs

Out of their shortsighted shit

And if we fail, we’re deemed less than

Broken

And beyond any sort of humanitarian repair

FINALLY: PUBLISHED

Z Publishing House recently released the Maryland, Carolinas, and Virginia edition of their Americas Emerging Poets of 2018 series, and I WAS PUBLISHED IN IT!

It’s truly been an incredible journey, and one full of disappointments and thoughts I might not ever reach this goal. Since I started writing at the age of 13, I hoped to have my words in a book. Through my own personal blog that I’ve run for nearly three years, countless writers groups, endless books, and hundreds of poems (many of which were terrible), I’ve discovered and re-discovered a part of me that I never knew I had. Now i never knew how I lived without it. For those that follow me on here, Instagram, and other venues that have published my words (SpillWords, Teen Ink, Blood Into Ink, Go Dog Go Cafe, and many others), thank you for always supporting me and encouraging me to keep writing. Even when it was hard, even when I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. If you don’t mind taking a look, and maybe even buying, I would greatly appreciate it!