Thursday, August 6, 2015

Within a letter to Agape

Under the shade of the mango tree
We sat like Confucius pondering
Our path of existence
Like motor bikes
We found the path of least resistance
Insistent
On the meaning of the burning bush
We saw upon our entrance
First night in Hanoi
The construct of society
Culture in the making
Waking up in Vietnam
The beginning of a song
Long lines never carry
Quite as well as a wave
Paved paths travel to expected places
We face East and pray

Simple

I am drowning in my weightlessness
Evaporated oceans
People spooning ignorance
Idealistic notions
I hold up your silver spoon
And show you all the darkness
The size of your spoon
Blots out the summer sun
No longer fit for potions
You wander through your
Simple life
Trying not to see
Lies you choose to believe

Size Matters

Watching through the heat vision goggles
I see the soul of a dead man rise

Parsecs and participles
Dancing propositions
Permission given
In rhythms with strange Cadence
I see elegance in your apathy
Your eyes are looking
But they don't see me
Freedom gained
But what's the definition of free?
And all I really wanted
Was for you to hold me

I used to go "all in"
Now I circumnavigate
The periphery
What is it you see in me
The size of my breasts
Or the size of my heart?

L.O.E.'s
Lines of Engagement
What is this promise
Of the war we are waging?
Sages of rhyme
But who is out there
Listening
Poet on the mic
While her soul stand out glistening

Semper fi

Young adulthood
Smells
PTSD
Wells
Trigger happy trigger thoughts
Wrought with iron
Souls are bought
Depth of control
Girls at home
Children die
Lonely bones
In our cells
We are
Living ghosts

Living in a cell
Living as a ghost
Alive in a tomb
Is what hurts us most
Every visit made
Is like visits to a grave
I'd rather be a slave
Than living dead while alive

Size me up if you can
This military man
Semper fi till I die
Do or die
I'm still alive

War

We were once sublime
Aligned
Children of the stars
Now we wear our scars
Like some rite of passage
Mark of the beast
We seek streets of peace
But find only the darkness within
Sin
What is this war we wage?
Against ourselves...

On the train to Auschwitz

The acrid, fetid air
Pungent and robust with death
Stench postures itself to attack
Cannot be ignored
"the banality of evil"

Storing people like pieces
Whisps of memory
Hurt more than any torture
A body could endure
On the train to Auschwitz
Nothing remembered
Would be better
On the train to Auschwitz
It would be better to forget her

Those of us that survive
Could not have imagined
The map of our lives

On the train to Auschwitz
No man
Proclaimed to be wise
On the train to Auschwitz
We were forced to give our lives

Marching to a music
Nothing like our own
Taking away our everything
That reminded us of home

Alone on the train to Auschwitz
Every man for himself
Survival became
A complicated wealth

Alone on the train to Auschwitz
I knew I must survive
Alone on the train to Auschwitz
I found life

Powerless

Spider veins become her tattoos
Story lines mimed the times
She danced
The times she walked for miles
The times she stood
For what she believed
The truth perceived
Fantasies become real

Scars for days
Slaves in ways
The common man
Simply cannot recognize
Cognizant
Reminiscing times gone by
Wise words spoken
Fall upon deaf ears
And revolution is led by
Those that see
But never by those in power

Retrograde

Mercury goes into retrograde
And we wade in waters
Disconnected and cold
Soul rolls over and tries to sleep
Weeping eyes
Simply seek to say words
That mouths could never speak
And no one hears the verse
Berth wide but no volition
Ship sets sail
Never intending to return home
Alone in my thoughts
I am wrought with iron
Wrestling things unseen
Dreams stray from my fingertips
And my music become dissonant
Wisdom wishes Mercury
To remain as constant as she
Yet he dances away elusively
Bursting with layered poetry
She continues listening
But not even Wisdom understands
Cold hands; warm heart
And empathy will reconvene
When Mercury once again returns

Black Silk

his skin slick with sweat
from painting the stone red
in the hot Florida sun
I am stunned by
the beauty of him
black silk skin
drinking his beauty in
he regards me silently
saying nothing
yet taking everything in
his attention to detail
assures me he
misses nothing
composing what he sees
into orchestrated movements
his attention to rhythm
cadence & melody
truly moves me
magnetizing me
always in his direction
the perfection of his erection
is irrelevant to the depth
of his silent reverberating soul
offers nothing against
the resolve of my control
i stroll softly
along
the corridors of dreams
that weave themselves between
us

Didactic

Inspired by reading George Orwell for my Politics and Literature class Summer A semester.

I love the way he poignantly points out the vicious dichotomy between the upper and lower classes. Without the crowd there is no leader. Without the workers in the belly of the hotel there are no lavish rooms for the guests to enjoy. The upper classes disdain and look down on the very people who are the mechanism they flourish because of. The working class are the inherent part of the machine that runs the empire yet are not satisfied by the value they create. The hatred this stimulates is the beetlejuice they spit upon the dresses of the rich.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Like a Thief in the Night! Forever, I rise!

I had no idea what it would feel like to return home. I feel like a stranger in my living room. Like I am a little too communist to be American and a little less than socialist to belong to Vietnam. I told you all Seoul swept me away. I wanted to stay. I come back to the tidal wave of things I must accomplish. Life. I feel my destiny pulling me to the next dimension. I have no idea what it will look like. I simply know I am not the same me that left for California, let alone Southeast Asia. Several of my closest people went through major life events when I was away. Kirstie was in a severe car accident. Kamahria's boyfriend (who had just professed his desire to marry her) dies young and unexpected. Leslee is in a terrible motor cycle accident and her boyfriend is STILL in a coma. Tampa floods. Chicago has tornadoes and California has wildfires that tear up portions of the state. I feel like a thief in the night. I feel restless and wanting. I feel lonely and afraid. I feel needed in too many places. I have to discern these premonitions coming to me. I have other things pending that I cannot discuss that add to the pressure. I am a constantly moving force of nature. I feel like I am orbiting some strange new planet. I keep sneezing like I am allergic to my own home and that is the one place I should NOT be having allergy attacks! School starts on the 24th. It is my last semester as I graduate. Bachelor's in Psychology. I am psychoanalyzing me at the moment. The things I cannot share are affecting me deeply but the sharing of them would be detrimental to those they involve. Pray for me. Send me love and the white light of healing. I am hurting. I am searching for the next step. The comfort is that faith I have in the power of my destiny. I know I will find it. As it nears the new moon, I know the pieces will rearrange themselves. I will see the puzzle piece. I will find its relevant space. I will grow and augment as necessary & I will march ever onward. This trip changed my life in ways I still cannot yet see. I look forward to the next few months of redefining me. I look forward to the next step. The next chapter. The next stage of my existence. From my mother's solemn and devout Christian perspective, The Devil would not work hard to pull you off your path if you were not solidly on your path. It just makes me try even harder. I love you all and am blessed by your constant love and support. I need you so very much right now!