Infinite Mind Spasms

Extirpate all colors that dim your heart.
Our primary life should not be the bleeding tint of hurt,
but a blush of warm chance with real people,
not the ones soaking in their shades of negative.
They will fade!

Thursday, February 4, 2016


She was the last leaf
and I missed her fall,
I watched her hang
and wait for hope.

My heart was busy
in my own search
for hope and a wind,
I forgot her hope.

I'm sorry little leaf,
But I know you are fine,
because my prayers
sent you and me home.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Color me Blood

My skin reflects an elephants tusk,
But my heart walks Black Foot
and Cherokee cheekbones smile,
I am a human, born wild.

My ancestors are not my faults,
They do reside in my veins,
from years buried and shrugged
under the past, under the rug.

I am not the slave keeper,
I am the blood of some,
They are not my heart,
I am my own love.

I am black in my heart,
I am wild like the natives
who gave me life,
I am blood with a knife.

Sunday, January 24, 2016


As I turned to my right,
out of the corner of my right eye,
I saw her tears at the red light.

Her face was red and her tears were true,
but I only saw pain, not the truth of her tears.
I'll never know her story or her sorrow,
but every day I wonder about her tomorrows.

Was she broken hearted from love or loss,
or mad from something petty or coarse.
Her sorrow looked like love had left her heart.

I'll never know, but always wonder why.

Monday, January 11, 2016

Unassume Me

Influenced cracks in the paint
forge through skin like a knife,
the last fall leaf, a hanging hope
outside the back porch,
bad brakes screeching by
and the rustled leaves
from squirrel's survival.
Inhalation of the air
in between the traffic's wind.
Inside, the zipper clinks
inside the dryer, while the candor
of candles whisper.
Is this insanity, or a poet's day?
Tomorrow this will be memory
and a half written page.

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Walk in the Mud

I lied.
I don't want to be alone,
I simply feel that stone.
I do.
I've lived,
in a hole for so long
its the home I know.
I am door less, key less
and breathless.
There is no air to breathe,
but my insipidity.
I am grounded,
Footless in the mud and
if, if the puddles can reach me,
I could create a hill to crawl.
I can't  live in a hole,
I have to resent isolation,
I want to live
inside of a whole.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016


She would spit like a boy,
and run like a girl, pick her nose
and the ants off her
grandmother's rose buds.

She would show her tongue
in pure dislike or like,
walk outside with her bare feet
in the snow, or to climb trees.

Her words, obvious and true,
but her voice was shattered
from the switch of respect,
even if elders were the matter.

She lost the life and her story
she knew she wanted to be,
she was always wrong to speak,
she was kicked to perch,
she balanced like a bird.

Pretty blond baby, blue eyes
and cotton hair, a lost cause
once she learned to use her mouth.
So she ran in circles in her head,
thoughts ricocheted side
to side, lost in the lies.

Hide the truth, but her life
lied. She was fictional,
a character who everyone saw
She depicted truth to survive,
while it drowned in lies.

Monday, January 4, 2016


I am verb-less and out of cliques,
all I have is me and this hole
that sinks asleep, a slow
useless, unpublished poem.

My words are words,
and I mean only what I know,
My lips are quiet air,
everyone hears a smile,
but can't feel my fire.

I am not a lie,
but withheld truth
buried, its easier to leave
dirt alone, underneath resent.

Where is the absence of ears,
when lies do not rule, when secrecy
dismisses cruelty.

I've lost the truth in my denial,
I found love in a lie
and my truth is inside.
a story of trifles, conscientiously dead.