doors. a poem for Baltimore and everywhere els

they say

we brought you here to work!

This place is not yours

all fancy free

busy shutting doors

so I knock and I wait

patiently and kindly while

you have your debate

“should we?”

some say

“nay”

say others

meanwhile, we are hungry

myself, my sisters and brothers

so I knock again

this time, a little more strength

the man answered the door

looking quite tense

“Um, please go stand over there and mind that fence”

“I guess you’ve been here for a while with me...how about twopence?”

I wait and I watch

but the door remains closed

Now the windows are shut.

I go back and I pound

The door opens a crack and out come the hounds

They tear at me

I run and then I attack

I’ve had enough of knocking politely on closed doors.

I’ve had enough of this wait to get what is mine.

I’m not tricked your sweet talks, the bribes, the lines.

I’ve put away distractions, the weed, the women, the sweet sweet wine.

Why do you treat me this way?

I know it’s because I am Black.

#NaPoWriMo "Poem for Isabelle"

as beautiful as this love could be
as strong as we feel
as wonderful as these words are
they will not make it okay
will not draw you back to me
can’t convince you not to run back into
that firestorm

You will run toward it
because you are afraid of the not knowing
not knowing is the scariest part
more scarier
than anything
“oh I know you better than anybody”
and i knew you were telling me the fucking truth
and i can’t make you love me

#NaPoWriMo "Download"

i download distraction
pump up the volume another
7 decibels
fall into place
the space between
nuh-uh and non belief
impossible to disbelieve
just have faith
in the Force
im a Jedi Master
this I feel
the sun
runners
running on organics
i catch flights of fancy

caffeine
i drink

nonstop
got no time to stop

just pause on the road

my destination is as yet
unwritten

#NaPoWriMo "youngblood" 20/30

There’s blood in these
streets
Young blood
young
not even 20 times around the sun
somebodies grandbaby
i know because that’s all we could understand her say
“that’s my grandbaby”
“that” dead flesh not “he”
is my grandbaby
she chanted over and over
it’s my baby, grandbaby, thats my baby
over and over baby, mine, grandbaby, dead

I thought I could feel a spirit
struggle and twitch, hesitate
to free itself from the body

these streets got a lot
of blood on them
period blood
young girls getting their first while they on the stroll
getting pimped/abused/raped
blood of sex slave babies

a roomful of your daughter
provided rape victims numbers four, five and six.

Every night, a new one
Babygirl don’t even know where she is
he say he gon tell her Daddy that she didnt run away
He gon tell
and it hurts Daddy, it hurts

Daddy is what he said, not to me, but someone when he died
it’s what he said
and I can still taste
the cold blood in my mouth

every time I walk past that spot
cold corner
that fucking movie
planted on the sidewalk
motion frozen
holding all my memoris

I never lost one like that

youngblood on these streets
the blood on these blocks
is thick
is warm and sticky
and it smells of death

youngblood