Talking shadows
Talking to shadows now
Recanting my tale
It began in summer,
Gold and warm
Reaching out to hold his hand
Sticky palms and relentless urgency
Only now, talking to shadows
Fall came and he was swept up by the
winds
Carrying our rhythm alongside
Speaking of possession
Only seeing each other
Remembering those old shadows
Spring bloomed our hearts into a home
Spinning
into colors
learning to blend and grow
only then, talking to shadows
winter nights alone
drenched in
tears and regret
wringing in pain reaching out for release
such chilly blasts of indifference
words of love grew tainted
with
frost shooting down with
painful storms
clutching to the dream in the sky
waiting for our shadows to walk
again
hoping for loves rebirth
he turned his back to walk away
leaving me to talk with shadows.
Wet Paint
I grew up right here on this very block
In this very circle
No
this circle was not originally painted by me
But I replenish the red paint regularly
I take spray cans, crayons, anything
I get my hands on, lipstick, nail polish I once
Scrapped gravy from dog dish; saturate it using red
Food coloring
replenishing red paint regularly
I have learned to be satisfied
Satisfied with the expectation
That my revelation is the exception to the rule
That I will denounce all notions of
An interactive social existence
So that I may commandeer this tiny block of land that Doesnt even belong to me and
though I ask permission To learn
and I ask permission to read, I never once Asked
permission to replenish red paint regularly upon
My own grain
of land sand on which I stand beneath
This rusted out lamppost
Spotlighting my every move every wish every thought
Given to me by benefactors of social decency
Who I believe is my cause to bleed
So I in turn turn it into my distribution
center you see
And when business gets good, I can bright the night
With a plastic sign
Wrapped round the rusted
out lamppost
That reads the red circle and be like
Man Im sitting pretty
Im like Walter Lee Beau Willie
Im
like three hots and a cot jumpsuit and flip-flops
Without the threat of three cocks rocking my spot
I
sell products for rock guts turn small from big butts
Exploit favors of crack ladies
Rip babies from placentas
Place
grandmas outside in winter
Just so when my babys papa goes to the store to
Buy diapers food candies and clothes
I
can say that I sen cha
And I use the spilt blood to replenish red paint regularly
Within my red circle of restriction
I got no time for books novel or non-fiction
I got no time for public television
I got no time for fighting discrimination
I got no time for self-directed education
I got no time for political organization
I got no time for inclusive
legislation
I got no time for internally building nation
Let alone time to teach our future generations
But I
got time to watch video hoes
I got time to spend too much money on clothes
I got time to cover my teeth with gold
I got time to say election day, so
I got time to complain about the same unfits
I got time to mess my life up
bit by bit
I got time to say its society not me
And time to replenish red paint regularly
And when my can of red
is empty
And the rain has washed away the remaining remnants
Of my restrictive living conditions
I will walk across
the street and
Commandeer another spot on the block
And spread crimson surround of rational restraint
Hanging
a sign that reads wet paint
Cause the sun dont shine on my side of the street
The sun doesnt shine on my side
Ill
hide from the light within the shadows my circle
Replenishing red paint regularly
