elementia Poem

our fingers fly across black and white keys like
sparrows / rhythms of muscle memory echoing
across the table tops // inside, you are wells of blue
deeper than the Mariana Trench / clouded over
with gray brushstrokes where smears of lavender

Society’s noose fed the rope around my neck
Teaching me to hate the things I used to love about myself
Whispering that maybe I deserve to be strung up and forgotten

a cherry

a seemingly harmless
red, round fruit

you pop the whole thing
in your mouth

bite down on the
soft sweet juicy pulp

then suddenly
you reach the middle
expecting the soft flesh
you get a solid pit

This summer I took some chances while listening to Chance the Rapper because I liked the beat
But listened to Kendrick when I wanted some street poetry
Some urban poetry
From poets who grew up in suburban towns with an urban state of mind

There once was a girl named Sarah
But no one knew her name.
“Loser!” the prissy, perfect girls screeched.
The word sang in her ears.
Silence.

overland park
kansas
usa
earth
milky way

am i supposed to call this home?
i live here
but it isn’t home.

constantly muttering to yourself
a constant hum in the back of your head.
carrying conversations with the walls around you
this is normal mom,
leave me alone mom,
I want to eat in my room tonight mom,
I can’t talk right now mom.
buzz-buzz, buzz-buzz

Born into the place I despise.
Growing in the green,
not seeing what could be.
Suffocating siblings,
pets galore,
always wanting more.

A little spot in the heartland,
A little spot in your heart.
Where families are created,
And legacies carry on.
Where meals are around a table,
And the front of a fridge is your trophy case.
Where names are recycled,
And recipes stay secret.

Warm evenings -
a slight breeze with the scent of smoked ham
and cornbread for dinner.
BROWN BODIES come out when the streetlights do
FOR FEAR OF BEING SEEN,
dancing and singing to Motown.
Turning bodies into wine
too sweet to taste.

His shoulders are square;
But they are not shoulders.
They are the sharp corners
Of heavily bound volumes
Whose covers are pristine.

Dreams become actions
impossible becomes possible
it’s what I love to do
becoming focused on my goals
reaching those limits
passing the bar
once I get a new idea
I go with it
I don’t give up
I would like to change the world

I smile when people ask if I’m all right
But inside I’m screaming and aching
I feel as if my world is an act
I act my smiling when
I want to kick and thrash everything around me
I act my laughing when I want to cry

Shhh. Be quiet and search inside. Maybe you’ll find what makes you unique.

The rustic smell and the crisp turn of the pages let me live out my dreams. They inspire me. They are the fairy tales, and let me escape from life. Then I finish them. And I am devastated. But they complete me, and interest me.

Who feels…like nothing is impossible when you try hard enough. Like dreams are never just dreams. Like life is a blank sheet of paper and, everyone writes their own story.Who wants…To do something that goes beyond herself.

We’re just dancing,
partying,
smiling. Having

Fun

For once in our lives;
being ourselves, knowing
no one can judge us. It

Is

I wish…
I could run like an Olympian
I could draw without restrictions
I could dance like nobody is watching
I could sing as pretty as a mockingbird
I wish…
I could be a world traveler

Reading should never just be
considered an option.
A life without reading, not
understanding words, only
spots on a page, with the power
to change worlds, but they’re
dead without a voice, no meaning
till they’re read.

Full-grown Harlem lady
Eyes as black as night
If caught in a situation
Her decision would be right

Full-grown Harlem lady
Welcomes every child
If one makes a wrong decision
They will be reconciled

I hate putting my family through pain
If I could wrong my rights I would be sane
Until that point I hang my head in shame

I wish not but blame myself

For what I did I know not
Help
They know I do have faith
Even though I’m in this deep dark place

It was a bad day.
Mysterious,
Big Joe had a bad idea.
He was going to ruin our street.
Big Joe is a bad man.

I will stop him.
I won’t let him do this.
Everybody will hate him.
I’m not just a little kid.
I am going to take charge.

My name is Peaches,
I am not very fond of Big Joe,
I think my mother deserves better than a man with dough.
He is selfish, impatient, and acts like a child,
Even though he helps people, and he has a very big smile.

Angry and spiteful
Attractive and very tall
Yah I am a teen

I want respect
I need tough love
I want freedom
I need control
I want to be wanted
I need to be independent
I want things
I need nothing
I want the high
I need sobriety
I want happiness
I need reality
I want no judgment

I wish I was home
I wish I was stoned
I wish I was high

I wish I could succeed
I wish I would try.

I wish
I had a tree house
One to sit in all day with my spouse
I would read to the leaves
Feel my hair move with the breeze
A tree supporting so much
Like a caring father that does such
The power to hold all

Let us lift that burden off our shoulders
And stand straight and tall.
We are and always will be
perfectly imperfect.

Aren’t all heroes simply the sort of people we live with everyday?

Before she even rested, it’s time to face the world again.
Some days she wonders: How many others fabricate their grins?
She takes a deep breath of air, and heads out to see what awaits.
After all, curiosity is always one of a hero’s best traits.