Oil Spill

I keep looking at this page
And hoping that some words
Or clever metaphors
Or slick euphemisms would
Float to the surface
And set ablaze my pen
Like some accident that caused
An unnatural disaster. I even

Called up Exxon for ways to
Scrub clean the black tar that
Oozes between the blank spaces
Between these words, and yet
I still come up empty. These waters
Still flow freely,

Clean and unbothered by the tankers
With holes in their bow riding to the
Sunset inch by inch as I stay stern,
Knee deep in crystalline water.

Your port has left my tongue
Anguished for that sweetness that
Turns tart in the back of my throat,
I thought myself a captain in need
Of a skipper but this boat is sinking
And I don’t want to be the cement
That’s tied around your ankles.

I don’t fear flipper
Or the bed that no star can board,
Or the steel beams I’m wielded to,
I fear polluting your waters
With the black tar that
Oozes from this page.

Exxon has already blocked
Me.

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I Am The Word

And these words of mine,
Seem to break the mind,
With my hands in bind,
Trying to lead the blind
Through a minefield.
Yet I am locked and caged

With time to unwind,
Or better yet, rewind
The verbs and past tense
Of line after line
Of cocaine metaphors,
They hit the floor,
Blind to the signs

That read yield.
No,
I will not cease and disperse,
Because your purse,
Is filled with the curse
Of my forefathers, from
Whipped backs that spilt
The blood of their forefathers
Don’t bother

Calling me brother,
When it is my history
That you smother,
And replace, and connect
To the underside of yours,
This notion I reject.

Because these words of mine,
Will break your mind,
And give me the keys to unbind,
The scraps of cloth that
Leaves justice blind.
I know that you are waiting

For the next rhyme,
And I must leave you in due time.
As for right now,
No words need to match
The sounds of bullet holes,
For I am holier than thou.

I am more ancient than the book genesis,
And my rivers flow deeper,
And gave more life than six days of divinity.
I don’t rest on the seventh.
I do not care for the revisions,
Nor do I speak for those that
Wrote such a classical fiction.

I gave birth to the blood in your veins.
I gave birth to the fire,
And cradled its ember’s.
I gave birth to the chase,
And made the rivers run.
I gave birth to the constellations,
Behind your eyes.
I gave birth to the tongues,
That speak my name.
Yet I am the one,
Whose fate is decided by you.

A.L.S. – TP

Keys

Why do right turns
Manifest into sharp
Left roundabouts,
Don’t crash into the
Rails, speed limit
Is key.

Don’t run from the
Rum soaked sponge
Inside of your glass,
There’s liberation
In libation and pacing
Is key.

Please open the door
To my house, The
Landlord is coming,
Your body is home
And my heart
Is its key.

I apologize for the conception
Of misconceptions that wrote
Sonnets behind your eyelids,
But the sweetest lies have
The most sour truths,
Apprehension lost its keys.

We shattered these walls
Like mosaic tiles in church
Let the sermon begin,
But we were atheist and
We never really had faith
In keys.

_____ Being

What happened to that five letter word before “being”.
The existential crisis of consciousness
That hid behind being.
The nurturing fingers
That caressed such small beings.
The loud and quasi-absurdities
From breath of being.
The compassion of empathic shoes
That walked within being.
The bared teeth of passion
That protected being.
The story behind lines of poetry
That spoke of such a being.
At what point did human
Transform into an indifferent being?

A.L.S – TP

Black Man’s Rant

I upgraded the temperature of
My mind from Fahrenheit to centigrade,
Cause the grade of my poems
Will make you fade like bad omens,
Call 911 and I’ll show up in a Porsche,
You’ll hear these lines singing not guilty
Like the Lord is in court,
I’m too cold for cryostasis
So I rose from the morgue,
This stanza will crack you open
Like conspiracy theories from Michael Moore,
Are you sure you want this smoke?
Can your lungs handle this big of toke?
Cause my dope is laced,
It’ll make you choke
Like your breathing in space,
Call it determination or annihilation
Either way it causes suffocation,
Ain’t no rest for the wicked,
So I’m handing out tickets
Dressed in all blue like I’m crippin,
Wrong gang but it’s still killing niggas,
Right lane but they still pulling triggers,
Hmm figures, we all just some niggers,
I could interject with some intellect,
But you’d rather hit select and play 2k,
Ok, that’s up to you,
I ain’t trying to tell you what to do,
But these 3k’s got a scope and you in their view,
Tell me what’s a poet posed to do?
Tell me what’s a poet posed to do
When no amount of bravado
Can bring bravo to his hue,
Yeah I upgraded the temperature of my mind,
But now its hot enough to release all of the pressure inside,
In time I think I’ll find it’s harder to rhyme,
Harder to climb,
Harder to dine on the scrapes of paper
My pen is bind to.
So I’ll go for championships to protect the sec,
I’ll roll tide like tsunamis till my voice is at your neck,
Always on my two feet
Never knees in the dirt,
And when my poems look bleak
Know I bled till it don’t hurt,
And when I’m facing the judge
At the end on my session,
He’ll know I never budged,
Take a look at my blessings.

A.L.S. – TP

Love Letter

I bet if we make love
Like we never knew
The thinness of these
Walls never remembered
The familiarity of your
Voice, or the memories
Left stuck on them
Like gum underneath
Lunch tables turned invisible,
Or the imprints our bodies
Made on thunderclouds
Leaving sheets soaked
With precipitation, or
The anticipation of
Love letters written
With tongues on the
Tip of your Pen’s
Fountain burst, tell me to
Nibble just a little bit,
So that your tone
Would Cascade and
Reverberate these
Too thin walls sending
Memories tumbling
Down to cover us in
Blankets of remembrance.

I bet if we make love
Like we never knew
Each other, then the
Stains of our Past
Would fade to Black
And hit that sweet spot.

A.L.S. – TP

Dare to Dream

Dream of roses
That kiss your nose,
Dream of the laughter
Between yellow daffodils,
Dream a dream un-deferred.
A dream unmarred by the
Construct of reality,
A dream with me.
And you.
Just us.
Let this be all we got.
A dream dreamt by
Dreamers in love.
Do you dare to dream?

A.L.S. – TP