11 Words...9 Lines

 

     I'm happy to have been given the opportunity to write the foreward to this poetry anthology published by Inner Child Press entitled: 11 Words...9 Lines, inspired by a project dedicated to the memory of those affected by the 9/11 tragedy in New York City.

     Within these pages, you'll find dynamic and inspiring poetry that's not only easy to read, but complete in brevity. I have a limited number available and hope that you will purchase one, not only to support the art of poetry, but for the literary treats inside the pages! Please scroll down to the "Buy Now" link at the bottom of the page, and your book will be on its way to you.

thankful

contemplating the future

and remembering the past

we think

we dream

we live

we progress…

continually moving

even if it feels like we are standing still

in a world without walls

standing on a rolling sidewalk

making connections

crafting collaborations

and

uninhibited creations…

being thankful for our many accomplishments

 

 

Priests

Priests...
 Who come to purify our souls
    but leave us with their filth
  purging iniquity from our lives
     and  replacing it with their own
hiding behind the screen of sickness
    lying in wait for innocent ones seeking solace from this cruel world
             into the new world
               to escape the violence within
                  only to meet with anarchy in the sanctuary
                       ruining lives and leaving devastation in the wake of rape and violation by wolves
in sheep’s clothing
laying on hands confusingly placed
leaving marks on our spirits that don’t wash off
 words silenced through big payoffs and excuses
       keeping secrets
          and hundreds of sealed confessions
             with no earthly consequences
Father in heaven help us
    forgive us for our sins
protect us from all who would do us harm in Your Name
       Hail Mary full of grace
          look not on our anger
             help us to forget
       and look for our reward
         in the life to come
             forever and ever
AMEN.

rain

rain go away

we used to sing as innocent children

at play

when the sun refused to come out

and all we could see was puddles and mud

couldn’t go out

or get our feet wet

to keep from catching cold

so we sang a song

of prayer

asking the weather to change for us

until the sun showed her face

but today

this rain is coming down hard

we have no power over its force

of devastation

no safe place to run and hide

from

rising waters running in the streets

full moon watching

tide swelling

banks breaking

ocean and land becoming one

and…

we wait for the sun

to show her face

so again we sing

our song

rain

go away

 

 

 

 

 

Just me

Feeling sad

and alone

wondering what the future will hold

looking for a friend and finding none

only text messages available

people are too busy to listen

or even have a kind word

a bite to eat

or anything

so it’s just me

and God

because that's all that really matters

speechless

i’m speechless

at a loss for words

my extensive vocabulary fails me right now

i ran out of things to say

prayers to pray

confessions and affirmations to make known

so I stayed up past midnight silent

eating forbidden Oreo cookies and drinking tea

alone with just my thoughts

reading a book I bought

funny how the tv  my friend gave me stopped working today

for no apparent reason

the light stays red like something is wrong inside

as if it knew

like a short

or a fuse is out

and it will cost $200 to fix but how

can anyone put a price tag on something that is priceless

a life

a heart

a soul

a body

that is broken

i wonder why i suddenly feel like hitting somebody

when those who claim to know so much could be so wrong

and be so powerless to save

how would any of them feel to be told that everything will be alright

and wake up the next day to find out that they were all wrong

i hate the world right now

and all of its lies

God please help me to understand

why

after all of these years and millions of dollars

they still can’t get it right

how many have died waiting for a cure

to this disease called cancer

the crab that crawls into lives uninvited

paying no rent yet claims squatter’s rights

determined to take eminent domain over every avenue and street

while we wait

and hope

have faith that God will intervene with His hand

if he should choose to trouble the waters

and save

my friend

revelation

revelation…

no longer willing to put up with foolishness

she decided to walk away

and collect her life from those who had been allowed

to enslave her

never looking back on the pages of her life that had been turned

awakening to a brighter day

anticipating the bright future awaiting her arrival.

she hides it well

she hides it well

words in her back pocket

stashed away in closets

pushed aside and stored in boxes

to be filed at a later date

she learned early that dressing the part makes up

for what was lacking inside

and she hides it well

skirting around the real story

quickly changing the subject

when the topic gets too intense

she looks for the nearest exit

and makes her escape

she hides it well

covering her scent

to throw off a would-be pursuer

diving into the water to confuse even the most skillful hunter

when she is the prey

never getting caught

or trapped as she calls it

staying free

and undomesticated

no one’s slave or property

alone is where she remains

and although she cries inside

she hides it well

 

 

 

 

 

 

she worries

she worries…

about the weather

the day

the years

and how long it will take to get from point A to point B and all points in between…

and how to get there

if she will get there

what to do when she gets there

what she will do when it’s time to leave there

and if she will live to see it all.

she worries

all the time

for nothing

for all things

waking and sleeping

and the vicious cycle continues…

untitled

i grieved
as my life passed before me
my world turning into the deluge of Katrina’s torrents
imagining myself floating perilously away by disaster down Canal street
overtaken by the waters of death
never to be seen again

i grieved
as i passed through overturned graves
deceased dreams
decaying remains
and disintegrated souls

i grieved
as i stepped over broken hearts
shattered bodies
devastated minds
moving towards annihilation
mutilated and scarred beyond recognition…

but i survived

 

grounded

i am a poet deep in thought

waiting for the next line

the next rhyme

the next time i write something it will be from wisdom’s gate

and not what you expect

random thoughts ready to take flight

even though I am grounded

my soul can still travel

RED ZONE REVOLUTION

in honor of those who paint, write and sing
in RED, BLACK and GREEN
standing for the uprising
... insurrection and rebellion
against the atrocities of injustice committed by those who will escape unseen
putting pen to paper
and living dangerously in Real Evolutionary Determination
with weapons of ink
spilling literary bloodshed
spitting truth to the masses
the freedom fighters
willing to ride or die for what they believe
The Red Zone Revolution
is here to stay
showing the colors of life
and the order of the day

lost

he used ink as currency

posting bail as collateral

to free him from the prison gates

inside his mind

a broke poet

with nothing to lose

but words

a hot commodity on an open market

sold to the highest bidder

he now survives

on writing to appease

to see and be seen

caught up in the mainstream

and swept away…

chasing the paper

while losing himself in the limelight

listen...

listen…

originality breeds contempt

and the honest reality of my words doesn’t always sit well with those who hear

it makes them feel uncomfortable

but that is the whole purpose of poetry

so listen

and free

your minds…

give these lines the chance to penetrate beneath the hard surface of your opinions

and hear what’s in my heart.

you might find out that it’s not too different to what’s in yours

and we will find a common ground

beyond that cup of coffee

and anonymous snaps

originality could become a new way of life

and maybe end some wars

feed some children

and save some souls...

you never know

so listen...

if

If you do
because you have to
but don't want to...
give
because it's expected
but you can't afford it...
go
even though you would rather be
someplace else...
then, don't.
Forced behavior that's not from the heart
is like violence
and rape of the soul
that gives rise to bastard children of resentment
from the seeds of iniquity
planted in the womb of hatred
spreading like a disease that pollutes the land
and carries death to its residents like the waters of Katrina.
So if you have to...
don't want to...
can't...
or won't...
please don't.

beautiful black girl

 beautiful black girl…

daydreaming of unexpected treasure washed upon the shore

randomly gathering shells and relishing the days of no worries, concerns or cares

beautiful black girl…

innocently digging holes in the sand

running from the waves on bandy legs like a sandpiper bird

never knowing that the waters of life will catch her

soon enough

lost in the motion of her thoughts that carry her heart to distant places

returning with the tide

and going back out to sea again

beautiful black girl…

see yourself as more than what the world says that you are

the thoughts of your Creator towards you outnumber the grains of sand in your pail

how wonderful you are to Him

be true to yourself and to your dreams

and always keep a smile

as you chase the tide

Barbados

I wrote another poem in the sand

with words from space

inspired by the rhythm of the waves

singing and waving in time

with a rhapsody in blue yellow and blue

black trident in the middle

fist raised in pride

for those who stood behind enemy lines

building this land that I now stand upon

never forgetting from whence we came

looking out to the horizon over the Middle Passage

where bodies lie in wait for their vengeance on the Last Day

with no sense of urgency

because in time all will be free

so in the meantime

I write these words

of grace in the sand

inspired by the rhythm of the waves

calling me…

© 2012 PoetryofMotion!

All Rights Reserved

moon dancing

let’s go dancing on the moon

all by ourselves

moving and grooving to the vibration of the stars

catching stardust between our toes

let’s jump from galaxy to galaxy

sky trip above the clouds

and take a lunar expedition

let’s see if there are really any other people out there

in the universe who believe in being free

dancing on the moon with no gravity to hold us down

seeing earth at a distance

from God’s view

let’s go dancing on the moon

all by ourselves

moving and grooving

to the vibration

of

the

stars…

day #22

and this is for my sisters

who have buried countless dreams and realities

never given birth to children and aborted all of their seedlings

buried underground in winter

my sisters

who have walked away from hope because they had no other choice

the ones who stayed because they did

settling for less than they deserved

this is for my sisters

who have put their voices on the shelf

waiting for someone to speak in their behalf

because they are not whole

subjecting themselves to other people’s visions

and demanding nothing in return

my sisters

who are nameless

faceless

ageless

but not helpless

my sisters

Earth Day

Earth Day

a poem about the earth...

Day #18...poetics

word and sound

life and love

giving and receiving

connecting and separating

near and distant

alike and opposite

old and new

spirits and souls

bodies converging and complementing

minds exploding and melting

brevity and longevity

full and empty

forgiving and reliving

poetics

I Wish...

Day #16

I wish that I could dance across the page

like my words do…

with no thought beforehand or reasoning why

floating effortlessly line upon line

just living and breathing life from ink

from beginning to end

enveloping grace and speaking truth

at anytime

freely…

Day #13 Haiku

evolving quickly

to another way of life

will lead to freedom

#23

i’m #23 on the list
sitting in a room filled with a curious vibe…
an eclectic group consisting of the types of men that normal women run away from
it’s a creepy crowd of various hues
awaiting the stage
among this malevolent bunch
some of them smell real bad
but everyone has something to say
their words are fire
their songs are heaven
and i’m #23 on the list
at this open mic…
where only the hour hand on the clock
moves

Day #8

Ocean Queen
finding her place in the sun
sitting on her throne in the sand…
relaxing on the shore
unafraid of the high tide
she casts her prayers on the waters...
and returns to her place of reign
awaiting God’s answers.

the night the dance died

the night the dance died

bruised feet stepping lightly over paved floors

cold tiles sending spine tingling waves of electricity through the body

keeping the beat to the rhythm of the melody

high praise with extended limbs and fallen arches on releve

toes tagged on the slab of betrayal...

the night the dance died

mingling words of half-truth and untruth

roots of bitterness weaving their way between the threads of the soul

unknown entities telling stories entitled with sorrow...

the night the dance died

whispering in the dark

falling in line in broken patterns

one by one

two by two

stifled in its breath and unable to rise..

the night the dance died

no more songs of joy

only a colorful façade lights the way

before the last stanza repeats

dreaming of itself and imagining

the journey beyond...

the night the dance died

© 2012 PoetryofMotion!

All Rights Reserved

Day #7

Awakening
on the eve of something better…
an old thing always passes away
as we cry and grieve what was
bury the dead
and scatter the ashes
we come to realize that what we really miss
was what we only thought we had
and bask in the memories of an illusion
filled with created imagery
and crafted lunacy
finally reality sheds light
and we see the truth about ourselves and others
and learn that we deserve more.
selah…

(c) 2012 PoetryofMotion!
All Rights Reserved

my last...

my last…
never knowing when or why
surrounded by an adoring public who can’t see past my outer core
covering inner wounds with bottles stacked high
kept in dark places...

hidden in cabinets
unknown to one another just to keep the high going
or to make the pain go away
whichever comes first as needed
i sing because i’m happy
and because i’m not…
for those who love me for my gift and not for who I am...
i exhale

whitney r.i.p.

love poem # 3

i left a poem on your doorstep

wrapped in newspaper and tied with rough string

hoping you would read between the thoughts and see into my soul before throwing it away

or perhaps recycling the thoughts

mixed with compost and old coffee grounds to make the flowers grow.

i left a poem on your doorstep

filled with honesty about the joys of love that could never be

only imaginary fantasies between you and me

from my heart into your hands

created by my ink on colored paper

rainbow wishes floating above the clouds

freely giving and receiving

until forever

i left a poem on your doorstep

and waited

silently wondering what you would do

if you knew it was from me

just for you…

just a poem...

on your doorstep