Dropped Eyes

We drop our eyes
At responsibility
Quickly
Forgetting
Oaths to protect
And raise
Cherishing self
Instead of her
Surrounding yourself
With pain
And addiction
Degradation
Around each corner
Poor and afraid
Beyond the mask
You wear
My bleeding smile
Rising up
To create
The legacy
That which lives after us
We create ourselves daily
Realities that are both
Paranoid
And real
Destructive planks
The whip
And the lash
Out of evil
Comes no good
Nodding like broken
Candles
Flickering
In the blackness
That is no more
Cowardly
And afraid
Indifferent once again
Unable to create
Art from cynicism.

Imperfections

Held up to the public gaze
My imperfections shouting
Back at me
Why can't you take a risk
Professionally
They're grooming you
Job descriptions handed to you
Before the public posting
Invitations to San Jose
In two fucking weeks
Conference last week
And next
We'll pay for your sub
They say
Tell us what you need
You have to act fast
5 applicants already
Submit your papers now
Everything's a blur
A rush of decisions
With no chance to reflect
Or breathe
She buckles under pressure
Succumbing to the present
The future already behind her
Asking questions
And getting only silence
Or vague generalities
She is a teacher

What If

What if tonight were the night?
It could be.
I'd get blamed for being selfish
Leaving my children
The cowardly thing to do.
But what if?
The pain would be gone
And I would be free.
The tears would dry up
My acquaintances wouldn't
Miss me
And the people who pretended
They loved me would whisper
In hushed tones
Saying she had a dysfunctional
Marriage
After a few weeks the quiet voices
Wouldn't talk anymore
The sympathy cards would stop coming
And they'd go on living
Just like they did
When I was here
Staring bleakly into the sunset
Until it was their time
To return to the earth
Let the composting begin
We all must go sometime.

In the End

I struggle today
With self-imposed
Feelings of inadequacy
Tightening around my neck
Like the scarf wrapped
Too tightly around the mannequin
In Long Beach
I don't loathe myself
Entirely
Truly blessed am I
Smiling
Laughing
Glowing
Thankful for my parents
Children
Friends
One perhaps
On the edge of thriving
Peripheral expectations
If only I could break free
Take a risk
Today is messy and uncertain
Joy thiefs lurk under
The Golden Gate Bridge
I pound my fists against
My limitations
If I surrender
I have a chance
But I'm not one for happy endings
Hope remains illusive
Overspending
Overdoing
Overperforming
Self compassion dead
Dirty laundry piling up in baskets
Beckoning me
Succumbing to the temptation
Of chaos
Death should follow soon
But I've never been the lucky one

Monitoring Manners

When you told me you loved me
I believed you
My heart sang
Songs of truth
Freedom
And affirmation
Now I'm lost again
Feeling abandoned
Undeserving
And unhappy
My dreams continue to perish
Like drops of blood
Upon the filthy rats
I'm at my wit's end
How many times did I hear it?
The nursery rhyme at my mother's feet
Summoning some power
Deep within
Changing
Prophecies  must do their bidding
So I can survive.

Never Underestimate

In the stillness of the night
After everyone is asleep--
The cicadas and frogs
Crickets and larks--
And I am alone
I think of you
And your touch
Having the power
To transform
Right before your very own eyes
And the funny thing is
You go through life
Wanting affirmation
And love almost more than me
Searching
Never quite finding what
You're looking for
Dinners and parties
Always on the go
Attracting sirens
And women
Who do everything right
You've been there
Done that
And here I am
Isolated
As no human should be
Craving a smile
A hug
A massage
A foot rub
Someone to sit next to
Hold my hand
Look into my eyes
And fall in love
And now that I'm here
I'm afraid
You're too afraid
To explore the possibilities.

Take Me Home

Permeating the River Delta
With catfish in my mouth
You slink along Eudora ' s path
Worn
Slavery
Segregation
Civil rights
Poverty
King Cotton is a sprouting
To the distinct voices
And cries
I hear the blues
In rollicking juke joints
Along that same Mississippi River
Where I was born
Collard greens
Fried okra
Neck bones
Emmet Till cries again
From the graves of injustice
There's more to come
But I'm too tired
To read Falkner tonight
We march on Saturday.