Monday, February 28, 2011

Another Session

I'm addicted to Open Mic Night. I'm going again tomorrow night. I'll be reading Release. And my buddy is coming with me (the one that STOOD ME UP last week--yeah, I'm putting you on blast, man!). Should be a fun night! Wish me luck.

Thursday, February 24, 2011


Grab me and squeeze, till your faded knuckles ache and seize,
from sheer exhaustion and fear.
Death grip unyielding, afraid I'll disappear
into the past of your rearview mirror.
Your arms snake around my middle,
While you gaze at me expectantly, secretly praying for an abrupt giggle,
Or some indication that your talons aren't puncturing my lungs.
But I give you none.
I stare blankly, through empty air, my hair hiding the truth of my shame.
That I crave to hear the pop and fizzle of your passionate chant of my name: "Serena.....Serena."
Even though I don't feel the same. 
But hindsight is 20/20,
and very soon you'll realize you never loved me.
I was simply a diversion to this excursion called your life;
an exotic art to unfold.....a beautiful release--
fuck your daily strife.
(Or maybe just a pretty piece of ass that made your dick hard).
Although, time will only tell just how much your soul is scarred.
Now release me,
and move on.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Open Mic Night

Last night I did it-- I actually got on stage at this cool spot here in D.C. called Busboys & Poets......and performed one of my favorite poems, Intertwined, in front of a live audience.


As I sat there, about to be called up (I was #6 in a line of about 21 poets), I started feeling the pounding in my chest; that sensation that you know is your Fight or Flight response.

Hell no I wasn't going to flee. I was going to fight!

I had several things going against me-- the fact that I was a newbie to the scene...........the fact that I had no supporters there (my friends bailed on me at the last minute, however, a nice poet named Maurice, AKA MoPoDC befriended me, and went so far as to record my performance, which was sweet as hell)..........and simply nerves.......All these things were going against me.

But up there I went, paper in hand (since most people were reading instead of reciting, so shit, I can read, too--don't want to look like an ass forgetting my poem). The minute I started reading, and partially reciting, I felt totally comfortable and at ease.

And I loved it!!

You know why I feel so proud?? Because it was just last week that I got this crazy idea in my head to write poems, and --gasp!-- to actually perform live. Not many people I know just decide  to do something somewhat crazy, totally unexpected, and then actually carry it out. And for my crew to cancel on me, as well as unsuccessfully scrambling to last-minute to find more company to go, I could have just canceled and said, "Shit, I'll just go some other time."

But no-- if I said I was going to do this, then fuck everyone else; I am going to do this.

And I did.

And I always do.

What was really nice was getting positive feedback from another poet that I ran into afterwards at a local pizza joint.

I can do this. I did. And I will. Again. Sometime soon.

Saturday, February 19, 2011


I see you.
Standing there with your back pressed firmly against the wall,
With nowhere to turn.
But even if you could, you’d rather stand there and burn.
To let the kerosene soak through your shoe soles,
Shriveling your toes.
It hurts you more if no one knows,
Or sees,
I must watch you until your skins begins to bubble and bleed.
Until that time, no matter how trapped, you won’t be free.
Until I give you the gift of transparency.

I must see through you, all planes and sides of your inner core,
Pimping yourself to me like a low-paid whore,
Hoping that if I see your suffering and how you melt,
I’ll rescind any pain and agony that you may have felt.
You need for me to care, to hear the beginning, middle and end,
To extinguish the burn, and be the one to mend
All your wounds.

Listen, I’m not God. So why do you act as if I am?
I’m human flesh and blood, also in search of being a transparent man.
As well, I need for you to see me,
Begging, pleading, resolutely needing,

February 19, 2011

Thursday, February 17, 2011

The Cove

Come away with me
Let’s hide – hurry!—right here, inside
this thicket of bush and trees.
Our secret world, hidden discreetly among the roses,
Right up underneath unsuspecting noses,
Unbeknownst to the world outside.

Is this place even real?
This secret paradise we’ve discovered?
A shelter upon which we’re free to be lovers?
Your hand drifting up my thigh,
Your fingers thirstily searching for a drink inside.
Damn, babe, are we really here??

Gently pressing your finger to my lips,
“Shhhh….”, whispering hoarsely,
Warm, sweet breath tickling my neck and ear,
Your fresh stubble brushing my cheek coarsely.
Moments stolen,
Cheeks glowing,
Excited and flushed,
Voices hushed,
Lips waiting, parting,
Inhibitions melting away, quickly departing.

This is our cove.

Balancing on twigs and unsteady rocks,
Mosquito-bitten, hearts beating expectantly,
as our bodies lock.
Tight, claustrophobic,
Your air is my air.
And your strong, impatient fingers twist and grab
thick ringlets of my hair.

Yes, this is our cove.

Here, we’re free,
Free to explore,
to hungrily experience even more,
Relishing in first moments of pleasures and sighs,
Embracing whatever fate decides,
Staring down a dark future of uncertainty,
But come…..come away with me.
To the cove.
February 17, 2011

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Metaphysical Release

I need a metaphysical release.
Something to wrap my mind around these random thoughts that keep invading my peace,
It’s like a disease,
Eating away at my center of gravity,
Throwing me off balance just when I think I can clearly walk and see.
I need a way to express those thoughts and emotions
That linger just below the surface,
You know the ones that are always there bubbling, festering,
Picking at your sanity, constantly pestering,
Like, “What the fuck does it mean?” and “What the hell am I doing?”
Constantly gnawing; constantly chewing…..
I need a metaphysical release.
I wanna sit down with my words spilling off my tongue,
My graceful fingers completing a beautiful piece of music before I’d even begun.
I wanna carve all my emotions into a solid piece of wood,
Never mind that I’d never even held a chisel --but shit-- I could, you know?
I wanna wrap finely spun yarn through my fingers, letting it glide and knot,

I wanna make love under a roomful of candles, blazing hot,
While my lover and I create a sensual symphony,
Relishing in the pure ecstasy of a moment too ethereal to be earthly.
I need a metaphysical release.


I left.
Because you told me to.
(Or, at least, I tried.)
Not realizing just how securely my hands were tied.
Bounded so tightly, my wrists damn nearly rubbed raw nightly,
Rope burns morphing into scars,
Bittersweet erupting in my mouth every time I'd stare at the stars.
Damn, look at those stars…..
Look how they shine for you…………….

Pay me no mind, man…..
I am so far gone, trapped in another dimension,
Shaken and stirred, warped, beyond distention.
You see, I loved you, and everything about you,
The physical…..The way you made me giggle,
That sweet smile…..Damn, I was so beguiled.
You made me feel sexy and so full of anticipation,
And now what?
I’m left here with these remnants of you,
And your echoed pleas for emancipation.

I was that “funky virus” that quickly seeped into your core,
Left you feeling empty and lovesick, yet I know your ass wanted more.
You wanted me to weaken your immunity,
Wanted me as your soon-to-be:
Best friend.

But instead, you chose another:
Another path,
Another life,
Another lover,
Another wife.

Shit. I guess I’ll see you next lifetime.

It’s okay to change your mind, to press Rewind,
Go back in time, and look for something else.
Yep, that’s fine.
Perfectly fine.
But fuck your calendar analysis, that it was just mere months
(Love is timeless, don’t you know?)
Logic distorted your brain and put up this protective front.
See, you couldn’t deal with seeing me leave,
Tried to cover up that vulnerable heart you wear right here on your sleeve.
Told yourself you didn’t want me,
But did you REALLY believe
that bullshit?

Because I didn't.

But okay-- because you told me to, I’ll go….But in the meantime, I hope you remember the way I made you moan,
The way you’d smile when my face popped up on your phone.
And that feverish adolescent aching for one another,
Remember that intoxicating night we connected as lovers?
Or the way we’d spit hot fire?
Hot rhymes bouncing back and forth; man, you were such a liar,
‘Cause you know my shit was tight, yo!

I hope you remember the Black Hole Sun,
Or the moment when you knew deep down to your infected core that I was “The One.”
(Stop comparing, man; 'cause you ain't never find another woman like me).
Telling me to go, so coldly, surprisingly boldly,
Was exactly what I needed to hear.
'Cause a bitch shouldn’t have to linger year after year,
Chasin’, anticipatin’, hopin’ and expectin’,
Analyzing every sentence, with a knife, dissecting
Every action, every line, every word,
But when you told me to go this time, I believed you.

I heard.

And what I learned
Is that it doesn’t matter how one feels,
It matters what one does.
Your world turns on logic and fact,
And mine, emotions and love.
And although the space between is vast in time,
Come on, baby--we both know that we'll forever be intertwined.
February 2011

It's Eleven

It’s 11............. But damn, I wish it were 7.
Wish I could freeze time, make it stand still, so that I could hold on to this thrill
For just a little while longer.
This thrill of seeing you in my head, erotic visions of wrestling matches in my bed,
The intensity of you pulling, pushing, the ripping of threads,
Colors bursting in purity-- hot golds, pure whites -
Steamy reds.
Sadness smacks me in the face; another night misled.
Because I know once my head hits that pillow,
The night will be eerily still, though.
And sleep will succumb me, erasing all beautiful visions of purity,
Replaced by nightmares, blank stares, empty air.
I will lose you all over again.
I’ll be awakened to momentary amnesia,
A moment of peace before I’m riddled with seizures,
At the mere thought of facing another empty space in my day.
(Why aren’t you here?)
You know, someone once said the morning is the worse,
That fucking a.m. curse, to realize this will be another day where
Fantasies of you will replay...replay...and replay....
And I’ll feel it’s necessary,
To keep hope alive.
That maybe you’re dreading 11, hoping for 7, too, and missing my lips,
And craving to be up under my hips.
Ah, shit, who am I kidding?
If you wanted to be here--you would,
If you wanted to be here, you could; I’d let you come back,
My door is open like the 7-11.
In the meantime, it’s 11…..not 7.
And I’m tired, and my bed is moaning, calling.
Time to release; no more stalling.

February 16, 2011


Floating somewhere between dreaming
And awake,
I walk down this hallway (of life),
False sense of direction (and determination)
In my step,
A smile plastered on my face,
Having yet to reach my eyes.
(Perhaps the crinkle
cannot or will not
travel the great distance of my cheeks
To create that twinkle
We're all dying to achieve).
Maybe I should stop to ask for directions?
Nah, the map has been folder in my pocket
All this time,
Once so fresh and crisp,
Now worn from repeated referencing.....
Yet still (barely) legible.

April 2001

Thank You

Thank You
When one’s child becomes a parent,
It opens up many memories and doors,
Thoughts, feelings, and gratitude,
Surface that were never present before.

Reflections ensue,
And “ah ha” moments come to light,
Such as the endless depth of unconditional parental love,
And the tireless effort to always do right.

Like when rations are tight,
But leaving nothing for yourself,
Ensuring your child’s belly is warm and full,
Because the importance is on their life and health.

Like respecting your child to make,
Decisions on their own,
And reinforcing and encouraging them that,
Their life should always set its own tone.

These are the things you did for me,
And the things, for my own, I will do.
There’s nothing as great as the unbounded love of parenting,
And for that, and everything, I say, “Thank You.”

December 2008