Breathe

I forgot how to breathe...
And my heart is stuck on this repeated morbid melody
I try to use my eyelids like erasers to erase the image of you
From my otherwise picture perfect view
But somehow,
You’re seared on the inside of them
And now my canvas is tarnished
Smudged with your slovenly fingerprints
I constantly feel dirty
Like you painted me with oil
Maybe that’s way your hands tend to slip over every inch of me
Your “I love you’s” vice grip my lungs shut
I forgot how to breathe
As you lean over me
Sneaking into my room
as silently as the cancer that took mommy’s breasts away from you
your skin is saturated with the sweet perfumed of her body
the scent of her hips is stained on your lips
mixes with your favorite elixirs as you trace my ears with your tongue
I don’t want to remember how to breathe
I wonder…
How could you touch me like mommy
Be able to look at my hips and stand erect
How can you lay seed in your seed
Your semen
lines my hymen
that you have left hanging like the tattered rags
that hang off the children in Bag-
dad how could you do this to me
you use to be my knight in shinning armor
how could you fuck your own daughter
did I look too much like my mother
blossomed into a flower that too much resembled
the one whose petals have been damaged and faded
you’ve invaded my soul
and every time you kiss me my heart goes…
cold…
like the poison that you injected into me was laced with ice
I pray daily
Hoping that the what grows inside me
won’t come out looking to much like
the Demon that helped me produce this blessing
or is it a curse?
Birthing my brother
Mothering my sibling
dreading the day that I have to explain to my child
that their daddy,
and granddaddy,
hold one in the same name
predator
pedophile
molester
monster
I wish
I never
knew how to breathe
in the first place.
Wish that I was never conceived
to receive
this being
that dwells within me.
Why is this happening?
It’s become so routine…
I know exactly how many rhythmetic thrusts
come before you bust.
How many come before you slap me
for not looking like I enjoy it.
How many come before you tell me
that this is my fault
and I…
deserve it.
I’ve stopped screaming…
Stopped hoping mommy was listening
cause now I know
that she knows.
Cause she never looks at me…
directly.
She speaks to me through silence
quick glances that dance around my eyes.
I can tell that she cries.
Her eyelashes whisper I’m sorry
every time she blinks.
And it seems like she’s forgotten how to breathe,
or maybe she doesn’t want to either.
Our house is suffocating
I can’t take the tears that roll off
my souls window pains
I can’t stand the rain.
I feel like I’m drowning…
but maybe that’s not a bad thing.
At least then,
I won’t ever
have to remember
how
to
breathe...

Broken: The Essay

Do you know how to hold a broken woman?
How to mend her and hold her together? How to touch her in ways that wouldn’t remind her of the pain she had to sustain? Do you know how to erase the traces of her yesterdays?
See me, I’m tired of being broken. It seems like every time I think I have a winning hand and lay my cards on the table I still end up getting beat out. Every time I try to completely give myself to some one I always come back to me in pieces. You see the thing that hurts the most about being broken isn’t the actual act of it happening, it’s watching how you tend to misplace the pieces to who you use to be. Looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing a puzzle with fading parts or empty spots that you will never be able to fix. My maintenance is high, not because I’m materialistic, but because I’m use to being hurt, use to my heart pumping out the same saturnine melody. Simple things tend to trigger flash back of me being stabbed in the back, and sometimes I don’t even feel like bouncing back. Damn I wish life came with a re-do button, cause sometime your heart isn’t just broken by your lover, it can be broken by some one that you might consider a parental type, or brother, or even some one you might consider a sister. Funny how we tend to give these tittles to people that could be our worse enemy’s idol. So called friends have told me that if I ever wanted anything it was mine, but all I really want is for someone to remove this dagger from my spine. It keeps getting pushed and twisted further into me that now it’s broke through my soul and has left deep wounds on this ticking thing that I carry in my left breast. I’m shattered.
And I know you’re wondering how I got broken, or why I chose to write this paper on this subject matter. But all that right there, doesn’t really matter. And I know inquiring minds like to know, but sharing is caring, and frankly I stop caring a long ass time ago. All you need to know is that I’m cold, tired, and my tank is running on E, so I’m sorry if you have every thought that I was being a bit of a bitch to you but like I said , simple things make me feel like I’m in a reenactment of my past. Some people tend to think I’m a bit unstable, chemically unbalanced, or crazy whatever the hell they chose to call me. Others might view me as the silent type, stuck up, or cocky. These things that they see are true to some extent. I am unstable, cause every time I think I’ve found my stability it betrays me. And I am silent, simple because I chose to watch people and let their action speak for them. Let them subconsciously tell me every thing I need to know before they get a chance to lie to me. Now as for cocky, sometime the faded puzzle piece that is my confidence tends to regain a little color. Sometimes I think that I can rebuild myself, but then I realize I can’t build a house on a cracked foundation, even if it is empty.
Really, I just one person that I can trust. A friend or something more, I don’t care, I just need one. Or better yet both wrapped in one, someone that I don’t have to teach how to love me. Someone that I don’t have to explain my trust issues to. Someone that can make me feel whole again, someone that can rebuild me. Damn if I don’t just want somebody that already knows how to hold me. But does anyone know how to hold a broken woman? How to mend her and hold her together? How to touch her in ways that wouldn’t remind her of the pain she had to sustain? Does anyone how to erase the traces of her yesterdays?
I guess I’m just going to have to deal with being beautifully broken beyond beneficent rehabilitation, reconstruction, or reincarnation. Rebirth initializing in
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…

Broken

Do you know how to hold a broken woman?
How to mend her and hold her together?
How to touch her in ways
that wouldn’t remind her of the pain she had to sustain?
Do you know how to erase the traces of her yesterdays?
I’m tired of being broken.
Tired of trying when it seems like you don’t understand
just how much of my being exists in you.
Don’t understand that I,
am delicate…
fragile.
Despite what I spit on mics
You are a beautiful misery.
Your touches please me painfully,
but sometimes…
I feel like you’re just playing with me.
Then,
you smile.
Reeking havoc on my heartbeat,
giving me 32 more reason to love you.
And I feel like…
I need you.
I fiend for you.
Wish you could understand the stillness in my eyes,
hear everything I can’t speak
every time I swallow my tongue.
Your eyes are openly closed,
and I’m left wondering…
Are you scared of letting go?
Cause I know your history,
but sometimes,
I feel like you’re taking this out on me
When I’m just trying to give you,
all of me.
And I know it might sound hypocritical,
but your silence,
is slaying me.
I’m waiting for your kisses to save me,
but it seems like you don’t want to be my hero.
Your light seems like its fading,
and I’m scared of the dark.
My Knight Light in shinning armor
your silver is losing its luster…
Was it me that tarnish you?
Maybe it was all the tears I shed on you…
Creating an easy way for you to slip away,
I’m struggling to find a way to re-shine you.
And I wish I could make my clock go tock tick backwards
I miss the old you
And now I’m regretting what I told you.
You invaded more than just my mind…
I opened up my soul for you.
Wanted my tears to wash away
what was left from those not suitable for you.
I’m trying to reach out for you,
my hand is waiting for you to take,
but you are slipping through its crevices.
Like sand held to close,
the tighter I hold you,
the more you slip away,
but I’ll be damned if I let you go.
You were everything I ever wanted
I’m wondering…
did I do too much to keep you?
Maybe I should have just acted like I didn’t want you,
lied to you,
hurt you more than possible,
then maybe you would want me…
But I’d rather see you happy,
even if it’s not with me.
Just tell me.
I’ll let you walk away freely,
no ties,
and no connections.
It’ll be like you never met me.
Just say that’s how you want it to be,
don’t keep torturing me.
“If you don’t want me then don’t talk to me”
cause my confusion is about to make me lose it.
What else do I have to do for you?
I’m tired of spiting my tears for you over mics.
Tired of trying to cradling my fears of losing you
in your eyes.
Tired of the emptiness in your “I love you’s”
sending shivers down my spine.
If you love me,
tell me without speaking.
Make me feel beautiful
instead of invisible.
I just want you to hold me.
But do you know how to hold a broken woman?
How to mend her and hold her together?
How to touch her in ways
that wouldn’t remind her of the pain she had to sustain?
Do you know how to erase the traces of her yesterdays?
……I’m so tired of being broken.

When I Dream

When I dream
The Earth shakes
Shivers and quakes because it knows it’s not good enough and my dreams will show my wildest fantasies to me
and entice me with a world that’s better
and they say sleep
is kin to death
and this world can’t lose me
it needs me
it breathes me
because it breed me
I’m its ultimate weapon of mass destruction
Conceived in the corruption of our nation
I spit fire and bleed rhymes through my pen that can make love to your ears and leave them sprung on my B-I-C
And my rhymes are so sick that most don’t know what to call me
Some call me a poetSome call me a lyricist
But most just refer to me
as a MC
And my baby daddy
Most just call him DJ
And together we make music
Giving birth to my first child they call her Hip Hop
And I’ve watched her grow
Blossoming into a beautiful melody
With the ability to change her tone to fit every voice that graces a microphone
But recently it seem that she’s followed her own dancing beats losing sight of her purpose
I created her to give worth to the so called worthless
And she knows thisBut yet she defies everything that connects her to me
She’s become an addict
Addicted to her own rhythm
Injecting into her veins the venom of vulgar names
She’s degraded herself
Having love affairs with money,
cars,
chains
and even video hoes
Spewing the acid of her graffiti on this new generation of clothes
And her children…
barely even know who I am
the origin of who they are
And damn if that doesn’t hurt
Damn if it doesn’t hurt me watching what my grandchildren have become
Cutting each other down and up lifting no one
Brothers and sister are now sworn enemies and rage turf wars with each other over intangible entities that be long to neither
This is not how I envisioned my dynasty
Listening to the sound of it dying slowly at the hands of people that were born to uplift me
my own womb has betrayed me
birthing the very thing that plagues me
what the hell happened to my baby
mommas baby
you abandoned my affection
choosing to damn near murder your own mother
changing the way the world perceives meproducing disrespectful bastard babies
also set out to kill me
but you are afraid to get rid of me completely
without me,
there would be no you
you can’t lose me
you need
you breathe me
cause I breed
you

Assignment

I was given the assignment to pick a person in my family, get 5 pictures of them and write about what was going on in those pictures. I picked my sister and this is what came out. (After each line is a new picture.)

She looks at me
Tears glazing her corneas
She’s tryna be a soldier,
Fighting a war I feel I never should have put her in
Our souls bleeding out the same rhythmetically painful heart beat
She smiles longing and heartache And her eyes are filled with the memories that we will never get a chance to make
Erased every time she blinks
She connects to me more than our other sisters or even or mother
She wants me there with her,
With them
So our little family can be whole again
But my plane...
is leaving
And I have to make it to my gate
Back to my father’s side
Back to Austin where they reside
And I’ll miss her
terribly
knowing the misery that I’m about to leave her in
On the plane
Tears escape my downcast eyelids
As I take one last look down at the city
Knowing that me and my sister will cry
together
Separately
___________________________________
I’m packing,
Collecting all evidence of my existence here
But trying to keep the proof that my sisters and my mother do hold me dear
Despite what my fathers side tells me
I’m moving
Slowly
Subconsciously trying to make the world stop moving with me
Trying to remember the feeling of Christmas
And hold true to my promise for the New Year
I’m not going to cry
I’ll be back some other time
And maybe by then I will have decided to stay
Her letter falls out of my pocket
And though it’s just paper
It seems to plummet
Heavy with pressure of the emotion chasing it
It wasn’t intended for me to read yet
Suppose to be opened safely on the
it won’t make me change my mind about staying
She says she’ll miss me
But she understands why I can’t stay
Says that there are so many things that she wishes she could say but she doesn’t know how to.
She wants me to be happy
and keep writing my poetry
Says that writing connects us and our pens will forever join us together
Says that she knows that I didn’t willingly choose to break my promise
She forgives me
And my eyes glisten with remembrance
Raining down on my sisters heart that I hold in my hands
_________________________________
We are young in this picture
I not older than half a decade
And she not older than a quarter
We’re smiling
Arms around each other in an embrace only shared between us
It is our fortress,
No harm can come to us as long as we are in each other’s arms
I will forever protect her
Carry her in my crescent moon ‘cause she is the only one that can put it on my face
Baby sister this
“I promise”
____________________________________
You haven’t opened your eyes yet
Haven’t quite adjusted to the light
But you’re still beautiful to me
But I still haven’t quite adjusted to the light either
“Mommy, why is she so bright?”
And you cry,
it’s like your face became a candle
and my question was it’s either sparking your future thoughts that I envied you
that I didn’t love you cause you didn’t look like me
Your thoughts that I loved Leslie more cause we could pass for twins
We shared the same complexion
Like she was my true sister and you,
You we just came out wrong,
But youwere wrong…I admired you
it was just from distance…
__________________________
You can draw!
And I still can’t believe the talent that lives in you
Not to mention you write too
I can’t believe you never told me
Now I feel blessed that that you have chosen to bestow me with your glory
Drawing for me
Letting me read your short stories
Wanting my poem to be seen in your
I can’t explain the look on my face
I’m so proud of you
I remember holding you…
But I never got a chance to watch you grow
There are so many things that I will never know about you…
damn how you grew...

Poser Poets

Poser poet propaganda pushes poetic prophecies presumptuously towards death
And you expect me to just let theses niggas rest?
Please,
I’d rather spend my last breath fighting these wanna-be-me poets
pushing wanna-sound-like-me poetry.
Bite me,
and I’ll write back cause my words are like children to me and trust,
you don’t wanna mess wit momma’s babies.
See I’ve been deemed crazy
charged with a list of felonies like murder,
arson,
and rape
I plead guilty
I admit it,
I do murder these mics,
I set fire to stages,
and every time I write I strip mini-me’s of their fake ass tendenciesraping them bluntly with the image of what a real poet looks like
Excuse me if they don’t seem to like the light much,
much like roaches.
Picking up any of my crumbs they can savor
well just for ya’ll I picked up a new flavor
But I’m sorry if it’s slightly poisonous
I can’t stop the venom that flows from me
or the acid rain that likes to pour from me
burning patterns of my name into the brains of any that listen to me
I lash out with ease be careful with what you choose to say to me
Cause if you disrespect me
I’m a need you go ahead and start praying to whoever it is
you decide to believe in
cause you might just see them today
And I know most people like to think that mimicking is a compliment
So Thank You
it’s nice to know that you look up to me but I don’t need any more compliments from you
Flattery will not spare you the life of your pen
it will lead to its execution
so before warned
even if I drink every bit of familiar ink that dwells in your pen
it will not quench my thirst
blood will have to be shed on stage
cause I think I can do me just a little bit better than you can
I stay true to myself
and I never write to fill someone else’s shoes
you need to choose to do you
put your heart in your pen
let it bleed your life into a poem so you can resuscitate your soul on the mic
don’t recite lines that haven’t come from your own mind
redefine the word real
this is more than just an art form
it’s an outlet
a way for you to release your deepest thoughts
don’t step to poetry sounding like an echo of what you think it wants to hear
speak what you need to say
erase the traces of fraudulent fabrication
your paper is ready to show you your reflection
and introduce you
to you
now who
are you

Tears Of A Prophet

I was once told
that I have eyes that look like they’ve seen the birth
of prophecies
the death
of dynasties
the re-incarnation
of majestic memories
and I smiled slightly,
if you only knew half the things me and my eyes have been through,
I’ve seen dreams disintegrate in the hands
of the poet prophetess that stands before
these hands
have crafted intricately iniquitous masterpieces
that have snatched the limelit stars from premature eyes
I’ve witness buds
prematurely reproducing blossoms that wither and die before their time
I have crow’s feet,
caused by the truth clawing to pull the rose colored tint from my souls windows
my irises
are old
and their petals have already begun to fade
losing their clarity
but still witnessing
catastrophes
that make them they not want to see anymore
maybe that’s why I started losing my eyesight at the age of 9
given glasses
to mask this
fact that wisdom is harnessed in the bags beneath my eyes
swollen with knowledge before their time
The dentist even tells me that my wisdom grows in precocious and slightly crooked
and will have to be snatched from me
my third eye wonders casually back to the day before my conception
back to the lives I lived before my mother’s name was Valerie
my soul carries crevices deep enough to hold oceans and galaxies
born a senior citizen trapped in the mind frame of a baby
To young to understand that I was birthed for greatness
Blessed with the curses of seeing thing for what they really are,
the old for who they were
and dreams of what will come.
Maybe that’s why shatter these mic’s seems like de ja vu
I’ve done this before
I’ve painted masterpieces before
Birthed prophets before
Saved lives before
I’ve died before
My face carries time in its shadows
stories of the damned are found in the wrinkles of my brow
the sands of time are pressed in my laugh lines
and the fire that is released from these lips forms glass in the form of spit
my words produce daggers that rip through cochlea
causes ink to shed from eyes
and cuts souls free from their self-captivity
Poetry is written transparently on my corneas
So I see through metaphors
Sing similes sweetly through my breathing
My looks kill
murder anything that might be seen as obscene
or unworthy of my words
my diction can leave you BIC whipped
on pen tips
and my eyes can give you whip lash
from how fast you’ll catch death stares
or loving glances
I’m the reason they give most hurricanes
female names
there is peace hidden in the center of my eyes
but when I cry
the angry tears that fall from my face wash away
ignorant innocence and leave the turmoil of truth in it’s place
whirling around the mind
translating earth quakes down the spine
I’ll leave you shaking
so let the first tear that falls from my eyes
be your flashflood warning ‘cause
you wont be able to stop it
once the flood gates are open
I’ll drown you in truth
my eyes rain down
tears…
of a prophet