No Tire Shop in Babylon

May 8, 2013 § Leave a comment

Respect stepped out

in the pharmacy parking lot last night

sitting next to a girl one car over

hiding wrinkled tears in tissue

and basilisk eyes

two thousand-yard stares

company for each other

 

Both faking well

in the direction of the highway

just past a canal slicked solid

watched the steel trap struggle

and three women drop

out of lame transport

to shove hot machine past white line

under the gaze of centurions

nozzles to asphalt

 

Big shot shotguns

bullets aimed for this land

pointy lips pointing

double chins shrugging

to rifle through car trunks under tropic last light

in which a flat tire ceases molasses sojourn

through teeming peninsula

of men and fishers

 

These pigs have no place

in her briny breath eating

shacks and motels to shack up

where Carenage spreads her legs to Tetron

a soft curve on hard coast

joint fastening a leg of earth

drunk and lazy before leaning into green valley

tucked into submarine bath tubs

made of wars long fought

and soldiers still soldiering

 

The smell of big shot shotguns

meandering a cloud of diesel near chassis still aground

leaving sisters to crank jack

struggle with bolts and belts

with just enough time

to terrorize all the North West.

 

*Author’s Note: A motion to grant civillian police powers to Trinidad’s military personel has been recently killed in the senate. There is fear in the re-write, because ass holes come in both grey and camouflaged models here.

Everything For You

April 16, 2013 § 1 Comment

It’s beyond frustrating to be in one of those cyclical toxic relationships where break-ups and make-ups number in the dozens. We’ve all had one of them. That one person who makes you vomit a little in your mouth, but also makes you sport those giant anime eyes. Bi-polar loving.

Then after the last round of heartache (and by last we really mean last… no really) when it’s clear that the vicious back and forth has petered itself out, you spiral into that zone of absolutes and prepare to deal, then  heal– then dust yourself off.

It is in that first dusting where you can encounter the “All For You” conundrum. It’s this place where you stuff your tears back into your eyes and crank your chin up with the jack of activity, learning, self-expression, baking… whatever. In those moments though, you swear that you have Iyanla-d yourself into a new existence, strong and free. But the insidious truth is, it is really all for them– at least only for a while.

Everything you do, is to prepare yourself for when your sadist lover returns. You have got to be in good shape and pick up a few new skills like DJ-ing or chakra clearing or something. While this energy is not the most… sane shall we say, you can use it to your advantage.

Use the momentum to get out of your funk, or fog, or funky fog. Go ahead DJ Tiger Blood, go ahead horticulturist extraordinaire, go ahead sky diver Jake. You may have gotten drunk on oxytocin, but when the smoke clears, and it dawns on you that it really was the last, last time, you’d already be well on your way to evolution and stardom.

Pause for a Shower

April 11, 2013 § Leave a comment

Blushing clouds love night,

merciful breeze sits idle,

rain is selfish still

The Brand New Heavies – Sunlight

April 10, 2013 § Leave a comment

Sweet song. Beautiful Trinidad… beautiful people. My island. Cheese!

Life in the Tropics

April 10, 2013 § Leave a comment

Petrichor |pɛtrɨkər, kɔər|

pron.  

The scent of the earth after rain.

Ode to a Velvet Negro

April 9, 2013 § 9 Comments

Dark wrapped steel

bone white teeth

 checkering pink tongues and soft palates

I lie inside your lips

swollen with the chatter of tribes

carried in the hold of triangular traders

pyramids of unfeeling

equilateral lines of ruin

salt water borne

dark and dusky night person

velvet man of muscle

sinew has a place in your flesh

where sorrow glues itself together with spit

and red eyes clear to those who fathom

that black is the softest sin ever known

tumbled through your legs stepping

stopping just to rub against all manner of being

omnibus you do

with chabin to coolie go down

your wealth safe in your mouth

your mouth is safe

save for your smooth and dark velveteen skin

*Inspired by Jim, from Harper Lee‘s To Kill a Mocking Bird. The term velvet negro, forever etched in my mind as the ultimate example of the beauty of black people.

On Being Consistent

April 9, 2013 § Leave a comment

Welp, that ship sailed pretty quickly. Here’s to jumping back on the horse. April will not get the best of me. Verse and vibrance abound. Stay the course.

 

I know but one …

April 8, 2013 § Leave a comment

I know but one freedom and that is the freedom of the mind.

 –Antoine de Saint-Exupery

7 Ways to Artificially Experience Love

April 5, 2013 § Leave a comment

I think this list is pretty comprehensive.

Thought Catalog

Let’s face facts: you’re unworthy of love. You’ve known it since the day you were born. You’re unattractive, unintelligent, socially awkward, and downright creepy, with a broken ugly soul no one would ever deign to embrace. You’re destined to die alone, unmourned, unremembered, no funeral, no obituary, a blank headstone, cause of death: who cares, an afterlife spent floating through the infinite void where only bacteria go after they die. All your life, you’ve felt this wall of apathy radiating from the universe. When you walk into the room, no heads turn in your direction, no one says, “Hello,” no one registers your presence. And this will never go away but only escalate as you get older and your body deteriorates into a grotesque caricature.

So that all sounds pretty bad, I guess, particularly if you whisper it into a bathroom mirror with the lights turned off. But fortunately, you can…

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Some Days We Crawl

April 5, 2013 § Leave a comment

They lied to me

nothing settles for months and weeks

and days and years

and in that time

I grit teeth to dust

till water slips fresh

ugly and open

upon beds creased

with the effort of sleep

warm with the ease of indiscipline

nothing more

than a whole world made flat

ambitions riveted

against chest bones that swing

in time with too late

and cages stacked around black

trapping sweet children

in grown men’s heads

with no real way out

but it really is as woman said

lessons learned soft sting

but those who bare backs

corked with age

for those hard backs

they burn

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