Once in a while, I will become engaged in a poetry conversation with a friend (usually initiated by me, lol). I LOVE when this happens because it keeps me on my toes and allows me to be inspired by other artists. I am currently in conversation with a talented brother of mine, Under_Score. I’m posting my most recent response to him, but you can check it out on his blog (in the comments section) by clicking here. Enjoy!
helplessly hoping that
the intangibility of nature
will make itself surface as real:
dead skin cells once invisible
appear, shed and reveal
where my eyes have landed,
and created futures imagined–
cool minty breath in summer heat
show water reflections of
still then shaking,
blowing in wind that hugs corners
and causes drafts through doorways
to the flame of my desire.
to be a hair follicle under the skin
of his shaved chin
would bring me close to him
as i sprout out
and get closer to his mouth
through a subtle kiss.
and what of rain?
cloudy skies to mask tears of mine
shed from heartbreak and love,
making my hair and heart curl up,
filling me so love never dries up,
just becomes a well for
and other life and such.
but always breeding,
a circle of life lived
and beyond my control.
i need a hug.
am i wrong to say that i don’t trust the people around me
to hug me long enough,
to grip me genuinely enough?
i don’t need one of those from-the-side one-arm
“i don’t really feel like hugging you, but it’s the nice thing to do” type hugs.
keep your arms to yourself.
i need chest against chest
until we exchange breaths.
share your burdens with me without talking
and i’ll do the same.
nothing sexual, just being humane,
relational as we were meant to be.
even a tree stretches its branches away from itself
despite being climbed on,
arms being chopped off, sometimes broken by storms.
it keeps growing, stretching, pushing past comfort zones
until its undying effort is seen even in shadows.
we should be more like trees–
reach out even we are tired,
grow closer to others even if our hearts are solid as wood.
let nature guide us,
honor what’s inside us,
honestly, desperately, generously,
you ruined nature for me.
when we met,
it was the beginning of spring
when the rain smelled sweet
and the daytime breeze was something else…
i released breath with the same synchronicity
as the sun beaming and the birds singing.
and then when it was storming!
no one sent me a warning
that mother nature would be raped.
months later, as the leaves change colors and die
and the Fahrenheit scales are no longer high,
i walk outside and the sky is gray,
cold is the sweetheart of rain,
the flowers aren’t even bright
and five o’clock holds hands with the darkness of night
and i still can’t believe
that you ruined nature for me.
i climbed into a hollowed-out sideways tree
that was like a cubby hole in the children’s library
and finally i felt like i could breathe.
confined by rough bark and mud all around me,
i saw the beauty
of creations that are unaffected by my emotional hurricanes.
they weather storms because life is part of the forecast
and i could learn a lesson or two
from that philosophy.
you didn’t actually ruin nature for me,
but instead helped see its resiliency
which provides for me
an example for me of natural beauty
that accompanies strength and willpower.
April showers didn’t bring May flowers,
but instead hours upon hours of pain
that transformed into days
which have now become months .
i want to be free like the trees
that i now see differently–
change colors like the leaves
and blow wherever the wind takes me,
lighthearted and free
despite what you did to me.
i’m so aloof about this love thing.
something has shut off in me–
i only care about sex in this regard:
as a release
i can provide that for myself.
i’m stressed, i play, i release
and then i move on
or go to sleep.
it’s that simple these days.
and if i need to connect,
i phone a friend or watch a good movie,
write a few poems and enjoy being home.
i go outside and breath in nature
and enjoy the softest, gentlest, most loving touch there is.
the air was always there,
but i never noticed.
the flowers and trees were always alive
but went unappreciated.
now i make love to mother earth
as if it were a sin
and it’s more beautiful than whatever it was
that i was doing with men.
and she doesn’t just take,
she gives me gifts back
like beautiful birds and rain
and sunshine and breeze on my back.
i searched for the joy that comes from all of these things
through habits and vices and actions that caused pain,
but after that long journey,
my advise for everybody
is to value the world around you.
hold it close within your reach
and extend yourself to receive it all.
and above all,
i want to smell pretty flowers
and walk though the trees,
be with nature so long
that i can’t tell the difference between
the soft earth and my feet.
i want to breathe…
marvel at how luxurious the breeze feels
on the back of my neck,
walk in circular paths until i get answers,
an explanation and description
of the way to go straight.
i don’t want to be crooked anymore.
adjust my limbs and pull on my heart
until there’s some symmetry there,
so one side does not dominate
more than the other.
i want to be loving without being foolish,
hopeful without being clueless,
sentimental without being depressed
and free without being a mess.
stability would be nice too
because i don’t know about You,
but i’m tired of waking up exhausted
from all that my emotions put me through,
being dragged by thoughts and dreams
that ought not to be.
i am tortured by me.
adjust my life.
i know the past is already done
but i pray that someone will come along
to change things.
i’ve heard to write my plans in pencil
and my past has been written in ink
while all i have is an eraser
but You have white-out,
so i ask you to blot out
every time i cried my eyes out
and replace it with pearls.
deck me out in jewelry for every time
experience made a fool of me.
let each ounce of my pain
equate to a pearl on the string
that wraps around my neck which connects
to my head held high.
i am already adjusted.
i saw an orange moon tonight
and something within me got memorized like
the moon symbolized hope.
at first i thought it was the sun,
about to set and disappear into the sky
but when i realized
it was the moon hanging low,
i felt different inside.
something about brightness in the middle of darkness
shows me that even in the darkness
of my mental situation,
even in the instability of my choice of occupation,
even in the fact that i want sunshine and life is still raining,
there is light.
i look up and it’s in front of me.
i speed off and it’s behind me.
i go left and it’s beside me.
peace that’s eternal, not just nocturnal like the moon,
not here for a few days and then there’s change
like the lunar cycle, but
something in rare form
like actually being present to watch a caterpillar transform
into a butterfly,
like a concert without sound
or like truly making mama proud,
it feels as if the clouds
over my head just dissipated.
for a long time
and perhaps if i could look up
and see an orange moon on a tired night,
maybe peace is not too far away
because i just got a glimpse of what it looks like today.
i just hope it won’t shift like this eclipse,
that it won’t be a singular occurrence
in the pages of my life
or something i can only achieve
in the poems that i write
because i need it in my mind, in my words, and in my thoughts.
i need peace to envelop me like nectar on tree bark,
sticking to my heart
and rubbing off on whoever i touch.
that you can just call me Middle East,
you can just call me ghetto streets,
you can just call me New York City police.
i only want drama on the stage these days–
i want the inner tragedies, satires and farces to go far away,
for them to be so drastically removed
that i’m naked enough for my skin to touch
the cool calm breeze
by a leisurely drive
and an orange moon in the sky
that on this night