1368 Emily Dickinson

This is by Emily Dickinson.

1368

Love's stricken "why"

Is all that love can speak --

Built of but just a syllable

The hugest hearts that break.

Café Terrace at Night

This poem was inspired by Vincent Van Gogh's painting, "Café Terrace at Night." Here is a link to a picture of it: http://www.vangoghgallery.com/catalog/Painting/53/Café-Terrace-on-the-Place-du-Forum,-Arles,-at-Night,-The.html

Café Terrace at Night

Walking on the cobble streets
with my lover in hand
heading to the café
seeing others talking and laughing
and sipping cigarettes and coffee.
The only light that is shining
on this dark city street night
is coming from the café,
illuminating with the people.
The wooden chairs, the coffee
look inviting to our tired bodies.
sitting, admiring the big tree
the vivid night sky
the streets that line the town
the luminosity of us, the people
at this small café,
the only bright light in this big black and blue city

Remix

I originally intended this poem to be a strictly performance poem and not for on paper. However, after I performed it I received great feedback and requests for leaving it on paper as well. So, here it is.

Remix

Woman is what we are
not bitches and hoes
stop disrespecting us
we’re not what you chose.
Words like bitches and hoes,
rape because of our clothes
We belong in the kitchen
is all patriarchal fiction.
I cease to believe
these things that stings the ear
are here because of genetic makeup.
They’re here to instill fear
in women to squeeze the lemon
of oppression
so dry that she can’t try to make lemonade.

Women got names and faces,

hail from different places,

are of different races,

got minds and thoughts,

while taking these shots

of oppression, so
Don’t pretend it don’t offend
the women who fought and taught
her sisters to follow;
the women who believed and perceived
themselves as more than chores;
women who explored equality
and rejected inferiority.
I rap as I sit on the lap of Father America.
I cheer as I hear the silence standing up, but then
I rage as the man cages with pages filled with “lesbian.”
Women of the West, we need to protest
the mess they call normativity;
We got to show that we know we got
more than a big booty to flaunt.
Man-hater is not what we gather;
equality is what we’re after cause
We can Rome without Caesar
with leisure in knowing
and showing that we cannot be silenced
that is financed by patriarchs cause
feminism ain’t dead, it’s just unsaid.

Appreciation

Appreciation

The sky is
   so bright
   and the sun is hitting it just right;
The blue is so distinct
   that it’s an instinct
   to stare at its elegance;
The different shades weaving,
   so calming
   like paints colliding,
   yet streaming
   like water.
The right amount of moisture
   in the small, strewn clouds
   with shrouds
   of pearls.
The blanket feels the outside walls
   and intimately crawls
   over my eyes.
So far, so close
   and yet you chose
   to shut
   your eyes.

Trying to Turn On a Lamp with the Bulb Burnt Out: Obstacles & Overcoming

Trying to Turn On a Lamp with the Bulb Burnt Out: Obstacles & Overcoming

the light flickers and sparks in short bursts

until it doesn't anymore

and remains broken.

but unless you change the bulb,

you won't have light again.

untitled

untitled

I almost fell in love with a guy once.

I was on the edge of the cliff:

My toes were gripping,

My arms spread out;

I could feel the wind coaxing me to leap.

              it was done before life had a chance.

Longing

Longing

the words you said

the kisses you gave

the embraces I'll never forget

the laughs that echoed that parked car

                      I.

I can't put them into a jar
    close the lid tight
    wrap around it
    or
      drink it, inject it
      open the lid and let the contents
      soak into our skin.
I can't make it come true again.

                      I.1

Truth cannot be explained through
     the biology of emotion.

                      II.

Do you ever think of me?
Do you ever miss me?
Does your body ever ache for mine?