a long way gone (to ishmael beah)

Their words, I feel
their words
through me they run
like tattered feet
swift and unkind to the eye
when rebels come by,
telling me what I know
and do not know,
cutting me like dry wind,
machetes,
surfacing from the corners
of my mind:
memories and memoirs
far from done,
showing me that this luck is
sparing me and unworthy am I
to wake up this morning
a long way gone.

cool?

Reality is shaped by perception

How do I not see
past your painted tees
and logo-ed caps that
scream more of the cool you
framed and less of the
originality you claimed?

I will try and perceive you more
than you would me
because I know that
the man makes the clothes
and the clothes make the man-
cooler than he will ever be...

and I wear rags
or what ever I could not make...

Tell me what you are and
I won't believe you
because I see you and
can't perceive meaning past those words

reign

Don't fall on
me or
Graze my skin
How I can't bare the burden of
Millions of your fighters,
One entity,
That clean me out

When outside I
am you and you I
Taste you I do
Mouth wide open I starve
But never grow thirst, carve
A hole in my chest
Before I drown, caress
My lips and my cheek
As I overflow, and my lungs creak
Ribs crack and inside seep
To the ground onto my feet
With the rest of you, that i could not throat,
I float
and you take over me, I
Am you and you I

Disguise my eyes
Wipe my tears clean
And rinse the salt trails
That track down my face
And leave me reason to believe
I had to surrender

f*ck you too

to anyone who thinks they can just
pick up a pen and
personify meaning
like its simplicity's brother...

f*ck you,

those who think a mic is made
to deliver a blank package...

f*ck you too.

don't even excuse my French
cause we've been speakin this
foreign language since day 6
after us came it
like words from our rib


we've pierced mental
then bled
in attempt to speak it
and write it
we become it
so that what we've shed
is dialect and definition...

never a small price paid in half
or overdue

so f*ck you
... and your paper-cut English too.

paying the sheet addict

they called her a deep fiend
a noted fanatic a sheet addict,
with her face in pillows
automatic static was a habit,
electric measures of endeavors
left notes musically classic,
range worth 5 times more than
his bread could basket,
and her body could modulate
in every sense: scales elastic,
no piece
could pass it
up,
and down,
she would sway and syncopate
indicate and accent-uate,
each rhythmical coin that hit the floor,
'til the beat was off then she'd ask for more,
'til her rent was paid and bills were sure,
or until her chords where resolved
and her mind deemed free:
when each harmonious moan
could live vicariously.

the hypocritical feministic type

Just because we've advanced
pushed our rights
pulled our stereotypes
birthed you and
established matriarchal standards
of standards you may
never believe...
doesn't mean
I'm gonna go
out of my way
to be the man in this,
know that
I'm a natural born feminist
(with a problematic male interest)

prove yourself
halfway meet me
then back up what you
mean...
cause i'm pretty clean
and many guys have liked what they've seen

used

you felt used
though circumstances
permitted me
to be so

the carelessness
of your
carelessness
is begging me to
care less nes-
ted are those thoughts
of me
bound and well rested,
and I know you slept
on them too...

maybe sleeping is all
you wanted to do

inadequate human capital

11pm
still on this computer
finishing up this
cover letter

qualifications that aren't really
qualifications

attempts to be seated
age appropriate:
supervisor

riddle me this:
what does a
50 yr. old man do if
he can't compose an email
after falling
3 years short
of college?

ask his daughter
to write his
resume.