Consummation of Words

People want writers

To write about love

As if it were trivial

Sexy, seducing stanzas

That make the reader wet with anticipation

Or sultry psalms that paint two lovers

In the epitome of embrace

As if love can be put on

And taken off

Like a coat or tie

If you can only have love while you’re solid

Then you have less than lack in love

You lack in humanity

I write of love as a constant state of humility

Forever grateful for life we don’t deserve

For songs of angels that bless this world

And for the people we meet who touch us

Some is sexual

But the best is one that doesn’t ever leave

It’s the one you die with

It’s the touch of breath

That consummates why I write




Of brown overlooked

Hopkins may be prestigious

But they dance around the concern

Our problems are a drive-thru for liberals

And a chum bucket for the right

We are royal but they worked us on farms

plantations, homes, ships

Jails now because we’re all politically correct

Marathon “standing up for black rights”

Is a luxury I cannot comprehend

The genesis of our revival

Will come with the stripping of titles

And time honored tradition

Universities must be swept clean

And reengineered with a purposeful dream

I don’t need you to donate money

Just your humanity

Without Words, Who Am I

I’m falling into wordless whispers

Rap and pop filled nights

Paint a picture behind these bridges

Behind the words of these writes

I’m angered, I’m restless

In the pursuit of the passion

For these words there is no detour

This endless highway I will forever traverse

In these words, they can’t get to me

Stand behind these bars like a criminal

Yet freed from their boring ways, so cyclical

Long eyelashes and red lips kiss my fingers

Rushing her vulva over my face, so ethereal

Taking me somewhere I never wanted to go

But was always meant to be

The songs of night are the voice calling to me

And I leave them on speed dial

When I’m pushing a broom, cleaning my room

Or up late studying for that Math test

My mind’s racing, it’s always wild

And when I’m supposed to be listening

I’m thinking of words to write, a separate file

Where I store the very honest bits of me

Find them here

And learn how I came to be

I don’t talk much, but I write too little

I can always add another verse

Another stanza

Because without words

Who am I

Somewhat Complacent

The sun’s coming out

I think it wants to talk

To me

To me?

What have I done

Nothing really

Just a mess of life

Confusing mercy with right

Somewhat complacent

In forever being better and worse

Than the man in the mirror

That’s me

Who, me?

Always thinking of something better

And doing far worse

I’m addicted to wrong

Because my blood burns

Spurned at every turn when I was young

I didn’t know who I was

Or what I could become

Now I do, but I’m grasping at air

I want to change and stay the same

This life is such a game

All I want is contentment and good

And my family to be okay

I want to be the next bestseller

Because I want my truth to be known

I want to lead

Because I’m ready to go home

Putting the hate and violence to rest

Means letting of those holding me back

I have the words, I have your ears

What can I say, I’ve been blessed

Next stop: The Very Best

The Agony Inside

Cut me loose

And let it free

The agony inside of me

I breathe you in, but it never comes out

Shielded by anger and impenetrable doubt

I’ve made a mess of me

And in the shadows, I wonder about

Which parts they see

What do you ignore

I want to be part of your journey

And then I want more

But I’m too heavy, with my sickening daze

I’m in need so much mercy and grace

Engrained in the darkness

I’m forever stopped in this place

I see neither sun nor sin

Darkness nor birth

Just the electric burn of them saying

I’m less than the worthless

It riddles me in a way I cannot comprehend

Stifling my words, sinister in disguise

Coming to me in an elegant array of sizes

I wash myself of the day’s depths

Sinking deeper in the water, till it covers my mouth

Maybe I should stay

They wouldn’t remember me anyway

Check Please (I’m Tapping Out)

Are you happy now

With the way I turned out

You tricked me out, flipped me off

And scorned me before the world

Aren’t you delighted

With the scars on my face, the crimson stains

Skin dry with hunger for belonging

Eyes wet with thirst for solace

Tears homeless in a sanctuary of brothers

I shiver in the arms of a cold blooded world

Acceptance is hardly an issue

I have not room to breathe

Nor vision to see, shrouded in mystery

Why some resent, but others tolerate

The bridge between the gap wasn’t mine to create

But it is to endure

Till a beginning that renews everyday

And an end that won’t come, in spite I pray

And that’s why they’re never answered

Because I’m angry and spiteful of my past

The things I’ve done I thought would never last

Yet here I am burying their ugly heads

But they breathe within me, you see

See, as long as I live they too continue deeds

Of anxious anger awaiting eruption

Self esteem pressure cooked and boiling over

Rotten glances at those who annoy

Everything hurts, the sunlight burns

The moon tases, the stars tingle

Looking at girls and remembering I’m single

Wondering how hard it is to mingle

Then I do it, and regret

I’m not ready yet (10 years later)

Check, please

I’m tapping out

Therapy Session One

Sitting in the middle of the room

Come on in, close the door behind you

We’re starting soon

Take off your makeup

Throw away yesterday’s eyelashes

Let me see your bare lips

Bitten, bloody, and bruised

Take off your gloves

The marks of chains aren’t mine to choose

Stand up for me, and expose your back

The welts and wilted skin aren’t in lack

The two, rusted lines like railway tracks

Is this the life you asked for?

Why can’t you stand, why do you shudder

What has happened to you child

Tell me

(I can’t help you)

Tell me

(They really can’t help us)

Is it your mother?

Is it your father?

Ah yes, that explains the size of the marks

That distinction certainly sets them apart

Now, what are they like, to start

Why does one help you, and the other hurt

Oh, they both do it

Well that adds some complexity to it

But you say, one is physical

The other is mental

You’re quite the case

Yet not far from the norm

I suggest you go back to them

Because they clearly love you

They express it differently

Have a good afternoon


(You’re doing great kid)

(They’re doing great)

We’re Playing Dress Up and Democracy Is Our Chains

Take me from this church, I don’t belong to life

Humans shattering bones with blood

And taking life with a million knives

Ingrained in our society the absence of rights

Despite aged documents we claim to live by

Ingrained in our food, flowing in our water

Chemicals and poisons that shove us farther

Into the ground, tightening the chains

Into our ears the sound waves of slaves

We build walls around our brothers

Encourage mothers to terminate births

Tell men they have little worth

Tell girls they’re not pretty unless they’re white

Tell boys they’re the reason women have no rights

Tell whites they’re the reason blacks suffer

Tell blacks they will always suffer


I need a respite

We missed something, that’s right


And what’s wrong is that nobody knows right

Opposing views are shot down

The mob rules the country, drowned out

In their screaming into the air

Or taking up city streets in protest

Of what they can hardly spell or explain

I ask them what’s fascist, they can’t explain

I ask them what’s so sexist, they can’t explain

How can you hate yet have no reason?

You’ve gone insane!


#FuckTrump becomes a beacon of light

Only for those to ignorant to see the path

They tread the darkness, they are near to die

They’ve lost humanity, the breath of life

And while #MeToo rightfully encourages

Speaking out against violence and abuse

We are quick to discard men and uphold women

Who speak quite little truth

Emotionally immature, vocabulary quite fictional

Our short term dreams are whimsical

Social media distorts reality, and we crave the lives of others

Main stream media controls reality, but we’re okay with that


If you are fine with that

You were probably already dead

But I can’t be

And won’t be



Against The Backdrop Of My Wrong

I will love you forever

Through the highs and lows

Peaks and valleys

Crestfallen wishes litter the ocean floor

My self esteem troubled, but still I want more

I don’t take the safe way, but the right way

Sometimes that leads to criticism

Isolation happens to be my resting place

And to them it seems I’m losing the race

But they’ve never even started

Weighted on the conscious of my heart

The filth of my youth and teenage expeditions

I was told I’d be stronger if I did it

I wasn’t a man if I didn’t

Now I did, and am done

I despise what I’ve become

I pray in the light, but the demons reject me

I seethe in the dark, and the angels scorn me

With tempest dreams and shivers of fright

I hardly sleep these days, I write into the night

Where did I go wrong, where do I belong

What are these words worth

Against the backdrop of all my wrong

Autism is a canvas

Blackness my brush

In an empty world that needs some color

Despite the world lacking a mother

With children that are perpetually under the weather

I, someway, somehow, find it in me

To love you forever

Women Wear 30 Percent Of Their Closet

I am a dreamer

And not always for the best

Or the realest

Sometimes it’s just an empty chest

I read books, magazines, playbooks

But I’m blind to your games

But I’m searching, anxious to find

Familiarity, I have a nose for sameness

I don’t know a lot of girls

But that’s mostly my fault

I did, though, through my heart

To wear all my outfits

That I don’t fit in, is my mortal sin

The scarf I wear, to immortal chagrin

Hooded and gloved I go into battle

Against bikinis and shorts, I lose sight of the actual

The reality I try to ignore

I strip you of your clothing, onto the floor

And force you into this image

I’ve created in my sleep, in my bore

Syd became Athena became Molly

Became Tyler became Isabel became Lemon

Became Flawed, just another day of folly

I think the problem is me

But I only wear what I want you to see

Women only wear 30% of their closet

And I wear all of mine

But maybe that’s what’s wrong with my mind