Posts tagged poetry.
solve no mysteries,
provide no comment
on the unspoken.
Our lives tremble
between pathos and seduction.
force us to be equal.
We swallow hard
black love potions
from a golden glass.
New language beckons us.
Its dialect present.
Through my eyes
focused as pure, naked light,
fixed on you like magic,
clarity. I see risks.
Regrets? There will be none.
Let some wonder,
some worry, some accuse.
Let you and I know
only we can bear.
“When you have no music, / everything becomes a form of music.” - Terrance Hayes
He is a beautiful killing machine,
and he is dead:
One boy kissed into bliss
by myth, who can’t remember
his own name, can’t hear
the fatal fact of him
echoing down the busy centuries
he has no time for anymore
from “Dead Boys Club,” a poem by Reginald Shepherd
ah haaa/ beware beware my dear
of rabid dogs/ gusanos with grenades
drunken maniacs/ jealous women from the south
& cerebral love affairs/ particularly
a lover who doesn’t need to see ya cuz he can make you
up so good when yr not there & he’s peelin apples
or when yr not there & he’s showin’ pictures of
grade school with charlie & bubba to this other woman
he never thinks abt when yr there/ beware beware
of men wit a woman in the head as opposed
to by his side or in his arms or in the kitchen
stay away from a man who can hear yr voice as clearly
in yr presence as in yr absence/ he’s dangerously
in love wit himself/ & hasn’t met you yet
he may have drawn a sketch of yr back fore he
ever saw you/ or a woman in a porno flick wore the same
kinda panties you had on the first night/ or ya
just like his sister who he usedta make-believe fuck
was seven/ & you probably look exactly like him
if he waz
a female/ yes well/ he loves ya
he says/ times doesn’t matter/ how much/
go be wit other men/ & stay away for months/ no
correspond/ this man’s got ya tied up in his fantasies
yr fleshy & independent reality is insignificant
unpredictable/ touch for him is illusion
is all he wants/ a still-photo of ya is his love
forever/ in control/ watch to see
if he likes ya to sit still
be quiet/ so he can/ capture yr energy/ beware beware
he will leave yr kisses & desires between yr legs
walk off smilin/ think of ya/ tell all the fellas
how he loves ya/ call once a month on the full moon/
cuz he loves ya & remembered that night/ he has stopped
ya in time/ which is death/ necrophilia for the
modern colored man/ has only to do with a cerebratin
love affair/ beware beware of men who love to think
abt ya & start talking bout the fights when ya
wanna be loved/ or start not understandin english/
quick/ ‘love/ whatya mean love’/
i think abt ya all the time
beware my dear beware/ his dreams of ya are like
whips cross yr backs/ this love is not for ya
it’s for the woman in his head/ caught/
dead/ madly in love wit him/ forever
beware/ beware lovers in search of illusion
have to betray the truth of you
pp. 108 - 109
for ntozake shange
i looked you up
among the poets at barnes & noble
but i didn’t find you
walt was there amidst leaves of grass
anne gazed down
her glazed eyes dreamt of rowing mercy
erica posed in her latest erotica
even rod took much space
i searched among ghosts
& those alive
i couldn’t find you
i asked the clerk
if he had kept you tied down in boxes
or does he use your books as dart boards
he smirked then shouted “she’s in the black section
in the back”
even literature has its ghettos
stacked amongst langston, nikki, & countee
maya who looked mad
the blues had her bad
zake tell me
did you demand to be segregated
"does color modify poetry"
i asked the manager
he patted me on my head
"it’s always been this way"
’spells of a voodoo doll: the poems, fiction, essays and plays of assotto saint’
pp. 27 - 28