Tag: poetry

I wrote this poem during my lunch break at work one day, while lonely and crying in my car. I was feeling deeply hopeless and was in a dark place with my depression at the time, and so I chanted this Buddhist mantra that I chant every day called Nam-myoho-renge-kyo and it made me feel a lot better. As I chanted, I gained the life force to appreciate this beautiful little moment when I saw a rabbit and a squirrel outside of my car window, and it inspired me to write a poem about this precious brief moment.

The rabbit
Brown fur
Soft large eyes
Cocks its right ear
Then its left
Sits up at attention
Wiggles its nose
Looks around
Monitors the premise
It races across the grass
I chant in appreciation
While looking out my car window
I chant in appreciation
To this rabbit
For helping me understand
That in life
When you are battling inner darkness
Depression and suicide
Facing death head on
When you're young and directionless
You need to appreciate the little moments in life
Facing life and death teaches you
To see the beauty in the everyday
I send daimoku
To the rabbit
As I appreciate their life
And how by their living
They taught me the value of life itself.
Tears run down my face
As I chant each Nam-myoho-renge-kyo
To my little friend
He has given me a reason to live.

I chant while watching 
The squirrel rummage and search for victuals
It finds food
Digs with its teeth in the grass
Nourishes itself
Then disappears.
The squirrel returns 5 mins later
Eats its meal
Relishes it
As it looks at me
It runs to another place in the grass
Forages
The bunny bounds, approaches the squirrel, -Hey friend.
The squirrel runs up a tree.
The bunny races from the squirrel
The squirrel poises, then jumps from the tree
It rummages, nibbles fast, eyes me, pauses, 
Twitches its tail
A blue jay flies away
The squirrel shifts around furiously 
With a vibrant life-force
An ichinen like no other 
It rummages with its black little nose
Through the mulch
Peers up at me
-What are you looking at? Leave me alone.
It stealthily bounds to the bushes
Oh ambushed by rabbit.
Rabbit runs 
The squirrel
From a distance
Nibbles at more food
Rummages everywhere
For a gold mine of food
It bounds around the curb's grassy sidewalk
I chant nammyohorengekyo
for my friend to find more food
It keeps digging
with its never give up spirit.
It emerges from the earth
Nut in its mouth
then digs and digs with its paws
So determined.
Its fellow squirrel across from it
on the other side
searches for more food
more buried treasure
Its tail curled around its body
It bounds away
So long friend

My friend
the rabbit
returns once again 
standing still
I chant
fusing my Buddha life energy
With its Buddha life energy, activating its life force
It stands rapt
Its hind legs bunched
It licks its fur
Wrinkles its nose
1 min left of lunch
I savor this art
This natural beauty 
my friend bounds away. goodbye.

We drove past the cornfields.

Rows and rows of cornfields

The road stretched and yawned before us

As The Doobie Brothers’ “Black Water”

Played on the staticky radio

We passed a large body of water

Shimmering in the summer sun

As the heat licked my forehead

And sweat dripped down my leather back

The can of cream soda sizzles as Jenna

Clicks back the tab

And knocks it back

She lets out a long belch

And we scream in laughter.

We pass 18-wheelers

Minivans

Sedans

Each car tells a story

Carries a human with emotional baggage.

We stop at a motel for the evening

And then start back up the next morning.

Appreciation- written 6/14/19

I am grateful for everything.
For every challenge that came in my life
For every piece of food I eat
For the job I go to every day
For the family I come home to and embrace
In a marshmallow soft hug.

I am grateful to the environment
The Earth in which we live
I am grateful that while we live in dark times
We each have the potential to uncover the sunshine within 
Each of us.

I am grateful to the Starbucks barista
Who smiled at me today and whipped up
A delicious mocha frappuccino with soy
I am grateful I spent my lunch hour
Chilling with a good novel and my dessert drink. 

I am grateful to be alive
When I remember how many people have died recently.
I am grateful to be alive
When I watch the news and see people suffering
I am grateful to know
That even as one person 
I can make a difference by being myself. 
I am grateful to be alive. 

In the city of Angels
The palm trees stand
Natural green skyscrapers
With rough hewn trunks
Skinny as poles

The hustle and bustle of traffic
New York City
Only with more mountains
People milling about
Going to the grocery store
Rushing to work
Meeting for coffee

The city of Angels
Who love to crush the sueños
Of daydreamers 
With the noisy bustle of traffic 
With the smell of smog
With the cars rushing past each other at
labyrinth intersections

Los Angeles
LA
La La Land
Whatever suits your fancy
In my mind I like to dance around
TCL Chinese Theatre
Pretending that I am dancing hand in hand
with Ms. Marilyn
As she busts out "Heat Wave"
Like there's no tomorrow

I like to think I am waltzing through celebrity 
circles at
The 98th Academy Awards at the beautiful
Dolby Theatre
Decked out specially for those who made it in
the industry
For those who didn't...well, you lost.

I like to think my life in L.A. is a classic
cinema joint
A Spike Lee hallway scene where I'm just
moving through
The city of Angels like I'm gliding on thin air
My heart soars when I think of L.A.
But the idea will go kaputz once I actually live
there
I will no longer entertain innocent dreams of
getting autographs, spending time walking
the boulevard in peace, and admiring the
stars alone with only my imagination to guide
me
Up the stairs to the Griffith Observatory
I like to think my life is one big
Beverly Hills Bel Air mansion
And that I am going to sashay down those
winding premium ivory stairs
Dressed in nothing but a bathrobe.
My hair coiffed like Marilyn
Body so knock-out that the men in their
checked suits all check me out in my 
Hourglass figurine.
I like to imaging I am the star going out
On a night on the town
Going to the LA Phil
Putting on a one of a kind show.
Then a pigeon poops on my head
And I'm knocked back to reality.
The angels all went on vacation
Now it's just The City. 

I have feelings
Everyone has feelings
We all have feelings
I feel these feelings even when I don't want
to feel these feelings
These feelings of shame, hurt, frustration, 
pain, joy, suffering, depression, confusion
All well up in the depths of my being
They come out at night and haunt me
because they feel like doing so
I am scared of these feelings
I run, race down the hall, while my feelings
come at me like a demon in the night
Like that creepy neighbor who wants nothing
to do but come at you with his knife
These feelings make my mind double over in 
pain
They make my heart race
They make me feel ungrounded
And yet also down to this God-given Earth.
I feel these feelings even when I don't want
to feel these feelings
It is painful to bear this burden as a woman, 
a Black woman, a human being
Feelings make me writhe in pain, thrust me
back to a darker time
I want to run from these feelings, run, run
run
But they grab me, twist my head, force me to
look them dead in the eyes
And dare to ice them with my solid gaze.
My feelings rip me to shreds like pulled pork
on a barbeque sandwich
I become the barbeque sandwich, a
mysterious stranger eating me alive
I look for an exit
There is none
The only thing for me to do is to embrace
those feelings
Force them to disarm themselves and force 
myself into their arms
Giving them a long warm hug
Telling them, "It's okay for me to recognize
you. You exist. I am only human and can only 
have you because that is my nature."
My feelings release tears of every emotion
you can think of.
And they finally embrace me.
I am one with my feelings
And my feelings are one with me. 

I sit in a peaceful cafe

By the Charles River

Listening to cars belch smoke

Passerby belch lox and bagel fumes

From their tightly tucked in paunches

I order an Americano

And my beverage comes out in a neat little ceramic cup

It is dark as my heart in that cup

It feels what I’m feeling

Pain, loss, suffering, that little coffee

Knows more about my feelings than any AI

robot will ever know.

More than the tall dark and handsome server

Who serves me this edible insight into the

depths of my soul.

She sits on the park bench

Glued to her phone

The lone person in the world

Who can hold a human conversation without

looking down

At a screen that causes her neck damage

Tries to start a conversation with the technology zombie

The technology brontosaurus craning its

neck

to see how skilled this girl is

Her fingers flying as she scores big at Candy Crush

Her intense focus like that of a soloist

in Carnegie Hall

Playing Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto by

memory.

Hi

No response

How are you

Looks up–Good–then eyes back down

Isn’t it a peaceful day?

Uh-huh

You should enjoy it more

How

By getting off your technological device.

The gamer looks up

But for a short while

Shrugs her shoulders

Then goes back to her own little world

Caring little that this lone conversationalist

Once spoke with two leaders of the free

world

To abolish nuclear weapons

She sits here thinking about that dialogue

Reminiscing about how important it was

To sit

Face somebody

And communicate.

Written on January 30, 2021

I.
She walks out on the stage
Cello in hand
Her enormous belly a gargantuan protruding mass
Lying under the comfort of her purple satin 
dress
Folds upon folds of fabric 
Shield the soon to be born human
From the cold of the concert hall
She feels the fetus dance around
Anxious for what is to come
It performs its final flops in her belly
Its grand finale
Communicating with her
One last time
Before emerging into the world
A latent soul of flesh and blood
Lying dormant in the amniotic fluid
That nourishes it
As she walks across the stage
She remembers nine months of gestation
Of procrastination
Of the prestidigitation that the unborn baby
Performed for her within the confines of her dark dank womb
She remembers months of morning sickness
Of dialogues with her unborn progeny
The passing weeks
The growth of her abdomen
The little unexpected pops she felt
Every time the little one's fist or foot made contact
Sweet loving contact
With the walls of her belly
The quest it went on 
To nourish its brain, heart and body
Each time Mother dined on the flesh of a freshly slaughtered chicken
Or a piping hot slice of gooey apple pie
The flavors of the chicken
Salty roasted hot
Balanced out with the decadent sweetness of the pie
Makes for a delicious nighttime meal
The baby tastes these flavors
As the placenta nourishes it
It fondles her umbilical cord
Tinkering the tips of its fingers
Upon the long rope that connects mother and child

II.

She eases herself upon the chair
The weight of the child upon her legs
She starts off with a slow bowing of the cello
Breathes as much air as she can into her lungs 
And then begins a lively presto of a piece
Dancing along with the cello
The baby hears all of this, hears mom
playing an incredible concert
Its last concert to be heard within the womb
It wriggles its toes
It rocks back and forth
And as soon as the audience breaks out into applause
The chrysalis of amniotic fluid that kept it
sealed within the mother
Breaks onto the wooden floor of the stage

III.

She races into a wheelchair through the emergency room
Passing rows upon rows of hospital beds
Filled with individuals
Human souls
Hooked up to ventilators
As their family members hold their hands one 
last time
Nurses, doctors racing with masks on
In a frenzied nightmare
To save humanity against a deadly virus
That has killed over 400,000 people in this 
country and millions around the world.
Her dress now a damp mass dripping sweat 
and amniotic fluid from her body
She breathes quickly through the N95 mask
that covers her mouth
She can still feel him perform some last
minute movements
Begging her to let him stay
Begging her to let him continue to savor the
beauty of the womb
For all eternity
Until she is a dying decomposed corpse
No
I cannot let you stay
You stayed nine months
You have overstayed your welcome
Sorry 
You must come out in a dark and scary world
But I will hold your hand for you for all
eternity
Even when you grow older
The umbilical cord lies in the depths of your 
heart
We had fun together
Now I need you to come out

IV.

She pushes 
No epidural in all the heavens
Can force the child to emerge
He wants to stay nestled in the comfort of the womb
Even though he must detach from the
placenta
He screams his goodbyes
In tears
Upon
Tears
He begs for mercy 
Each time she forces him out
Of that painfully small hole
He knows no claustrophobia
Only a fear of what is to come
Living in a world of uncertainty.
When she pushes
Only her shit emerges
She is in too much pain to be embarrassed
by the smell
As the fresh pile of watery feces collects on
the delivery tab
A guttural yell rips from the depths of her
throat
AS the head emerges ever so slightly
As dilated as her cervix is
It still hurts like a motherfucker
She cries
And cries
And finally hears another cry
From across her
Her child
Born of flesh and blood
A mangled mass of crimson flesh and matted
hair
Belts out a song of new life, of new
possibilities
Of new hope and dreams
She joins in the chorus of call and response
And swaddles the mass of T-cells, flesh and
blood
The doctor cuts the umbilical cords
And hands the baby to the mother
She welcomes her baby as a brand new
member
Into the orchestra of life
To play a symphony with her
Encompassing all of the months they shared
together
And more memories they will share together
As mother and child

Written on January 8, 2021

Summer day in Somerville
Eating fresh pumpkin butter
On When Pigs Fly bread
The dough melds with that
Cinnamon fall sweet pumpkin puree
I look out my apartment window
At the cars below me making their way through the city
Nina Simone
Ms. Nina
Ms. Goddess of Soul and Jazz
Croons on the radio
Perched on the window sill
Her voice drapes around me like a warm velvet curtain
Enrapturing me
Raw and viscous like organic Manuka honey
Fresh from the comb
Stirred in a pot with sugar
To make a caramel syrup
My potted plant, Nefertiti
Sits on the windowsill
She and the radio, Rachel, are best friends
Ms. Nina cradles me in the velvet drapery
Caressing my face with those ivory and ebony piano keys
The sweet feeling of sweet music
Ms. Nina reminds me I am never alone
The sweetness in my mouth
From the pumpkin butter on sourdough toast
And the lullaby of resistance
And the Black female experience
In all its pain, power, pleasure
The Black womanhood
Which Ms. Nina lives and narrates
Makes me feel like I'm in the life state
Of heavenly bliss
Ms. Nina is my crib, my hammock,
She rocks me to sleep
The soft chatter of the drums
And the sensuous vocals from the saxophone
Dances across my eyelids
My cinnamon sugar eyelids
Closed for maintenance
Soaking in the sounds
The sycamore leaves as they dance
Alongside me in the arms of their branches
These voices
Slow waltz
Glide
On the linoleum floor of my eyelids
The song ends
My muscles limp as spaghetti
Milky orange drool dripping from the crevice of my chapped bruised lips
Caked with blood from biting them just a little too hard while asleep
Legs a puddle of chocolate
Melted in the 100 degree drought
I am asleep.