POETRY

No Other 

I am more than a past life with a body.
I am a walking wave
of weathered wisdom,
reflecting the sun rays
that radiate off the sweaty southern skin
of my slave ancestor’s face.

This is my soliloquy.
A vicissitude of voices,
a volcano of accrued choices,
spilling over with yesteryear’s fears,
and wrapped in the elapse
of collapsed memories
coagulated

Masquerade Ball 

Science-fictioned separation of smiles.
Paper partitions,
placing distance,
dividing missions,
cutting crooked incisions
into the fabric
of our very essence,
which is… HUMAN.

Welcome to the Masquerade Ball,
on a floating blue ball.
Where health is debated,
breath gets stagnated,
minds placated
while souls are raided.

Still

Similar to the way the sun drops into sunset,
stillness is my guide.
The blackened bottoms of my feet,
dusty,
as they carry me to my altar.

Silence pushes a hum out of my chest,
as breath swings out my nostrils,
a lifetime of bloodletting I have waged on my soul.
Looking for god.
There’s only god where god is.
You are just another lifetime of me,
happening in synchronicity.