Category Archives: Poetry
and rotting quickly,
each wrinkle on
her silvery black face
tells tales of years
stacked upon years,
tears piled on tears
joy and pain
toil and bitter rain Read the rest of this entry
what can I say about paris
that hasn’t already been said?
on this day of mourning
more than 120 killed
should I call for a collective prayer?
that’s been done millions of times
on your facebooks and your twitters
and your instagrams.
I could post the french flag
over my profile picture.
but that too has been done. Read the rest of this entry
This is for the feelers
The drug dealers
The muthafuckin dope feigners
Runnin round naked like a streaker Read the rest of this entry
Love is not a war film
like Apocalypse Now where the hero
goes through the depths of hell and
returns drenched in blood from murder;
he’s psychologically ruined. Read the rest of this entry
What sour sweetness fills the air?
What mixed flavors spur these thoughts?
What song moves us closer?
What forces wedge in between?
What stench still lingers. Read the rest of this entry
I remember what my father told me:
There’s only one thing I’ll take with me,
all my women and their memories
But I knew he’d take more than just that. Read the rest of this entry
We tug and pull each other
There’s never rest between
The ropes we pull are bruising
Sometimes they make us mean Read the rest of this entry
*Originally written on a Hyatt Regency letterhead, this poem was turned into a spoken word house music track and released on Fluential Records (UK) in 2002, with music produced by Wilson and Steven Mestre.
It was about 6:15 in the morning I’m drunk and I’m high and I’m in Chicago now, I had just stumbled out of some club, somewhere I can’t even remember, and um I walked to the corner to hail a cab and after five empty cabs just passed me by one finally stopped Read the rest of this entry
today I write my verse not because I want to but because I have to I write my verse to give voice to the voiceless to give sound to the silence around to make light out of dark to bring peace out of war and squeeze water from oil and blood Read the rest of this entry
It is me, my son, and you who’s inspired great change Before you, I was wandering deserted plains. It is you, who stopped the winds from blowing With no sail to go, I started quickly rowing. It is us, together hand in hand walking tall, we travel barren lands. Read the rest of this entry