Lost Work found and shared

Poem 6

Death is no beginning to spinning tires screeching

Across the “Do Not Enter” signs

Death isn’t no lighting striking trees

Over local family houses.

It isn’t the day we would wonder our whole lives about.

But would fear true knowledge of the same day.

It isn’t a day when families grieve nor have yet to know

In bliss of a passing member.

It’s that moment before we hear it.

They stand still, long enough to cry before the apologies

And hugs of support come to catch me in my sorrow.

Broken heart’s hold each other in broken sorrows and despair.

Poem 7

Why does the moon show during the day

but during the night the Sun is now where to be found?

Is it too bright?

Or is it too big?

Is the moon just a shining rock?

Orbiting across the sky, flying high, looking back at us with gloom.

Showing all it’s faces, full, half and quarter and sometimes not at all.

And then the stars.

Poem 8

Mother of the project homes on section A

Living in buildings made of crumbling bricks,stone, and clay.

With screen doors that slammed

Harder than the life that Gina lived.

Mother of two, One more on the way.

Depressed by sounds of a phone call from the school.

Lost work found and shared

Poem 3

Is it the way I run away from my decisions once made?

Is it the way my hip refuse to sway?

Is it the train of the distance?

Was it a Harlem renascence?

Was it freedom in my path I searched for?

Look for?

In the middle of an ancient war against pain.

Depression sounds like a baby squealing away at its lungs.
Screaming voices among me as the next feelings of unsung destiny.

The best of me.

I yet to see in this place.

Patience and Grace befell my taste of hastiness.

I was never in complete bliss.

I made hissing sounds at the American Dream.

It seems simple without a single wrinkle.

I figured out the route to happiness was just a phase.

And I craved it.

Is it the way tears fell from her eyes?

Is it the way I never had a chance to say goodbye?

Is it the way death to my soul?

Holding me.

Providing deadly console.

Poem 4

As I sit here.

Miles Davis ringing in my ears.

Dare not shed a tear for you.

Dare not care for the dilemma.

I placed myself inside you.

Feelings of a confused soul sorting out of control.

And I’m left speechless by your actions.

Left completely alone in my room once more.

Once I felt the body that graced mine with warmth.

Once it might not have meant shit to you.

But I’m still in denial.

Still in utter shock from my vison of you with someone else to come true.

A prophet’s worst fear.

Some once foreseen in his visionary dream.

I see it as fate begins to take wing.

My face still froze with guilt.

I fooled myself.

Fooled my senses.

Fueled by make-believe worlds I drift off in while riding the bus.

And fuck it.

I admit I thought you might just see me.

The real thing that hands you whatever I got to offer.

I’m standing here with my heart.

 In my right pocket hiding it from you.

Lost work found and shared.

April 1st, 2019

Today I want to try something different.
 A project. I hope to finish this. Call it a project. Something I thought of.

Here we go.

Finding my pass work around the house, balled up work forms I wrote on and so forth.

Poem 1

The limbic system is all twisted up and tangled in my head.

While awake.

While asleep.

While at work at day’s peak.

I’m feeling lonely without my bed.

With my pillows, I feel comfort above anybody I lay next to at night.

I hear a voice whispering my name as my eyes begin to open to the morning,

I hear my name, soul and body recognized as mine.

My dreams have handed me back to the world and left me.

Wanting for them to remain how they were.

The dreams.

Yet they are calling my name as they are drifting.

Going further and further into the distance.

First LOUD!

Then further away.

Then gone completely.

This was the daily routine.

The pattern to which I live.

Dreams to keep me warm at night.

To comfort me as I fall ill.

I’ve always had them.

They never let me down before.

Poem 2

While my eardrums are buzzing from musical static.

Music is playing soft tunes just for me.

 Quickly I sat there watching each worldly idea pop inside my head.

And wheels are rolling on the pavements.

Rubber is burning out screeching.

Across the street from my studio apartment.

And I’m waiting for you to come back for me.

Honestly, I’m not sure you will,

 single-minded objectives make the unpredictable dangerous.

Truth is unexplainable in the eyes of the fool.

Only more and more foolishness to spread.

Kings and Jesters are running amuck, like porn sites

And fuck the lust.

For its all for the love of money.

The only thing that gives us hope is satisfaction

Which is why it’s so hard to get.

Truth is suddenly ignored and spoken for by CNN with FOX eyed Fox News

At 5, the media only wants to go public.

The land is only getting more toxic.