open spaces
empty myself of words
and hard feelings
spill and tumble from my lips
only if you’ll make a home of my mouth
surely there’s room enough for two
enough room for you
your fears and dreams too
i’ll keep them like my own
tucked beneath my tongue
with the rest of our secrets
rancid sweet faint
place yourself, in trust,
where my darkness dwells
and fill me with your light
Queendom
the creases of her flesh taste of saline
an anointing of sweat, sweet
faint
she is soft and strong
a warrior, weak to love’s touch
human
the exhale of her breath smells of summer
an unveiling of indulgences, innocent
warm
she is fragile and vivacious
a vessel, nurturing with love’s touch
Woman
Snow White
If you open your mind wide enough
you’ll notice some truths about this world we occupy.
Unblinded of the enigmatic workings around us.
There’s desperation graffitied on city streets,
clawed into bathroom doors,
and left hidden beneath bridges intended to unite two outlying bodies.
There are cracks in shelter walls, laced with rage.
Spreading like wild fire.
Crumbling the very foundation we’ve learned to walk on.
Making it hard for anyone to stand tall.
There’s hatred spewing from tongues,
ringing in the ears of minds too premature to conjure thoughts of their own.
Birthing hearts that beat dark,
heavy from feeding on angry blood.
There is a special type of hunger that makes cumbersome realities momentarily taste of home-cooked loving.
Sweet childish dreams of unadulterated souls,
not yet accosted in Media’s bleakest alleys.
There’s desperation clinging to the feet of shattered spirits.
Making a jigsaw puzzle of skewed reflections.
There’s a circus mirror [mirror] on the wall.
… somehow people, all over the world, have become extremely made up. Often times, emphasis is put on the wrong aspects of life and attention is given to trivial things that really have no significance and/or bearings on who we truly are …
a vain history
chin raised, catching the light of the looking glass
contour lines harden flesh to look like bone
and brows grow robust outlined by stencils
eyes, heavy from shadow and false lashes
deciphering today’s face looking back
it’s blushing
but it isn’t warm blood beneath skin
it’s pretty hues of pinks and reds
mixed with bronzers and highlighters and shame
it’s all smoke and mirrors
if you squint hard enough
and think long enough
you can catch a glimpse of the original canvas
and its perfect imperfections
before paint brushes and colored pencils
overtook genetics and life
you can locate the cherry birthmark at the base of the jaw line
now nowhere to be found
you can sort of remember the pale, thin lips
now forever transformed
stained an array of kaleidoscope colors
lasting a few hours at a time
at day’s end there are cotton swabs
wearing the very face just removed
discarded
lost in a pile next to clothes
embroidered with names immigrant tongues cannot pronounce
and people skip rent payments to afford
just to say they own something fabricated for the stars
obliviously becoming
just one of the millions
forfeiting a piece of their waning chances
to be the only existing one of themselves
iron-clad in made-up faces
wrapped up in foreign labels
and stamped logos of approval
welcome to the 21st century
the Everyday Masquerade Ball
you must come dressed to impress
and leave yourself at the door
because somewhere along the way to this party
we forgot where we came from
the very cloth we are cut from
we failed to realize that before Alexander
the finest garbs were tailored for Queens
draped on royal limbs
and King Louis ruled a country
not a world of fashion
not a world defined by cosmetic brands and designHer labels
with an ever-growing army of boys and girls
determining rank by the hard-to-say names
adorned on fabric
and the hard-to-match colors
painted on faces
naive and proud to be in uniform
camouflaged
deftly recruited by the masses
items intended for the care and preservation of the highest
manipulated into a market
selling someone else’s idea of beauty
the constants in these industry equations
we are the sum of products
they multiply our insecurities
as we miscalculate our face value
it’s Economics, 101
we are merely walking dollar signs
a parade of advertisements
(you see)
we’ve come a long way from royal balls
from the esteem of being excellence
our noble bloodlines
diluted by culture and time
we’ve redefined our make up
but we are not other people’s labels and expectations
we are the same Kings and Queens
beautifully flawed
stitched together with good intentions
who unapologetically look past the mirror
never down on one’s self
lest the crown will slip and fall
so
hold your head high
young Kings and Queens
and let history repeat itself
... been left to write 