A picture is worth a thousand words So I’ll use a thousand words to paint you a picture 500 words to open your eyes 499 to keep them open And one to make you move And since the world as been polluted with words I’ll make these biodegradable Organic symbols seared into your mind And … Continue reading Blue Eyes

I am Black And So I am political I am a man I am poet I am a son A student A Friend But am Black And so I am political You see, My isolation informs my identity politics I am a poet first And a negro last But when were studying Black history I’m … Continue reading Unapologetically Black

I. Blue Eyed Sky   I’ve felt my world die And I’ve seen the world resurrected Reborn and rehashed dumb, vibrant and laughing Unaware of its insecurity And insecure of its awareness   I’ve felt angel-headed hipsters Breathe fire into my words And felt betrayed As their children stalked Harlem Howling through my Negro city … Continue reading Bitter-Sweet Dreams of Harlem

I see in blue words Soft, subtle connotations And deep green definitions Surfing through my mental images With high-definition Vernacular   I revel In digital projections Of a fragile mind In red Helvetica And purple times Making the world My canvass of words   I weave yellow dialect Into the darkness To brighten my world … Continue reading sorrow tinted Words

My life is a mosaic. Spray painted on barns scratched into chairs and etched into Aspen tree’s It is painted in the back drop of Midwest cities and contrasted by Rocky Mountains like polished ivory on a crisp December day   It’s viewable only from space.   On earth I’m only a fuzzy outline of … Continue reading Old Poem: My life is a mosiac

Fear can hold you prisoner And Hope can set you free So pray for me As I runway Following whispers on the wind sweet syllables in my mind: Runway son runaway  Somewhere, there is a space for me; a place for me, to die. Death coming gently, singing softly to my soul: Runaway son runaway  … Continue reading Death Coming Gently

   I. "Love affair with a counter-culture facade"     I’ve felt the world die And I’ve seen the world resurrected Reborn and rehashed dumb, vibrant and laughing Unaware of its insecurity And insecure of its awareness   I’ve felt angel-headed hipsters Breathe fire into my words And felt betrayed As their children stalked Harlem … Continue reading Shouting to a Blue Eyed Harlem Sky (hopefully the first poem out of three) comments?

What I need is A word.   Something profound to start off with One syllable that hangs in the air. The first note of a battle score The initial down beat before the inevitable crescendo. There’s something tangible in it’s formation in your mouth, a physically reality in its reflective solitude. Lone, like the man … Continue reading The Power of Utterance

Sometimes, he sits alone. He sits like stone, unmoving. His static motion masked the commotion in his mind and lay hidden was the turmoil of his soul. Inside he was chaos— falling through the liquid reflection of himself; drowning in an ocean of an identity crisis —as fluid memories of a self-doubting existence whitewashed the … Continue reading The Dross of Self

The air is music The breeze is a symphony So play for me a soft autumn That late September music   Play for me those brass leaves and red ivy pianos keys Play for me Chicago Jazz On a south side street corner   Perform for me that nighttime blues The lonely street lamp melody … Continue reading Images of Autumn