Sistah 2 Sistah--my poetry

This powerful piece I wrote for an African American Women's Literature Class and in some ways was my respone to reading "For Colored GirlsWho Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf" by Ntozake Shange.  I hope I captured the spirit of her work, as that was my goal and while I am not Afircan American or a woman I felt this topic needed addressed in a powerful poetry piece.  With all of that said I hope you enjoy.


"Sistah 2 Sistah"

crazy ass bitch ya must

b outcha mothafuckin’ mind

where my god damn shoes at

ya juz his damn wife

wit ur mocha colored thighs

& coffee colored eyes

jus’ his dreadlock girl

cain’t do dis 2 often sistah

cuz he didn’t use a condom

may b a kiss 4 u his baby mama

i don’t need anotha mouf 2 feed

here in da projects

4 real it’s jus’ sex, yo’ nuttin’ mo’

she thinks or do she know

he jus’ wanna fuck ya

fo’ da 80 dollars he has on him

but dat nigga georgio don’t stop talkin’

how he seen ur man on christopher street

pickin’ up mens who never set dey foot in no ghetto befo’

he don’t need no damn atm

when dere michaels, trevors and stephens

dat luv a gangsta thug cravin’ der male pussy

a white melon backside

he done done it million times ‘fore girl i knows

fo’ real girl my word is bond

let him speak dat voice 2 me

swearin’ he ain’t no faggot

i sees em all up wid da gump on the prowl

dey dat bitch and he’s dey homothug

i done heard they go raw dog

but dat ain’t no bitch dats a man

so take your low down down-low

lying ass & leave my house & hood

i don’t  wanna c ur face u lying prick

cuz i’mma fuck ya up homeboy

tryin’ 2 act all black wigger

cuz dis here sistah don’t need

ya sorry ass or ya

hiv

A Caged Bird Sings; Original poetry

This was written for a class I am in right at the moment and I thought I would share it with all of you...enjoy

A Caged Bird Sings

A bird in a gilded cage

Longing for unspoken freedoms

Dreading darkness of night rages

Begins to fade

Singing the musical

Darkness becomes dawn

Yet do you know why

The caged bird sings

Are his notes tears

Filled with sorrow and despair

Yearning for a frail branch

Bending once again ‘neath him

Brittle ebony branches coming to life

Sweet magnolia perfume of spring

Ending the ruffling sobs

Once so loud, so clear; long ago

Breaking out of his ivory shell

O I can tell you why

The caged bird sings

Holding fast to his bosom the dream

Fluttering out the window carried by

Welcoming rays of sunshine

On the flight of tireless wings

No longer caged but free

Singing because once Cruel

Bruising ended old

Old scars are far, far away

On another distant hill

The narrow gold gilded cage

Sits empty by the window sill

For once he dared to be a

Caged bird with a dream that needed

Singing

For Valentine's Day; "The Crooked Road"

 

 

“The Crooked Road”

Of deep unspoken longings dare I say

To but gaze upon you across the distance

Of masculine marble like manly flesh

Oh to taste his sweet savory dew like kisses

Of the pale violet sun light on Christopher Street in New York City

To hold is hand in mine

The private musical of us in my mind

The smell of ruggedness as sweet perfume

Of what could be the quiet joy of brotherhood

Let him just once kiss me on Halstead Street in New York City

With the touch of his lips

My own warrior rebel

That our desire should be shared could

Lead to our wholeness once out of Eden’s gate

Fairytales do come true on Castro Street in San Francisco

Guide my heart out of my desert of loneliness

Once I’ve tasted his sweet savory kisses

Some say rebellion began

Hearts filled with the camp of Christmas

Can what we share be but higher law

Would the fruit of this be sweet to taste

The pinnacle of spirit on Fire Island

To be but more than friends dare I say

To desire the crooked road

To our iniquities den in Hell’s Kitchen in the New York City ghetto

Passion flung out of eternal fires

My soft beautiful vaporous being

Bitter bitchy queens at the door mocking

That this feeling is mine and I am his

With no doubt or uncertainty at all

This is self written and my special Valentine to all of you my readers

New Poem--- I'm a Girlie Boy

I am a Girlie Boy

Is it a sin to be the:

Sissy, pansy, nelly

Feminine Man like Oscar Wilde

Mademoiselle Wannabe

Can we forgive the behavior of the:

Girlie-boy, Limp-Wristed Queenly Queer

Or is it too much to bear being the:

Fairy, Femme, Feigele, Tapette

A Namby-pamby named Percy

Or the ever effeminate, Lord Alfred Douglas

Do I intrigue you

With My Quentin Crisp attitude and lisp

Does our existence make us the:

Flaming Fruity Friend of Dorothy, Fag Bangle

Do we walk; talk differently,

Waving our hands ask we talk:

Mariposa, Mary, Miss Thing, Poof Pixie

Are we born this way; to be the:

Honeyed Blue bungie boy or the benign

Light-blue boy

Does it matter what language we say it in,

It all means the same

Bapok, kedi, ponen, hadik hadik, mukhannas

Words have power, embrace your

Bàn zhūang húang hòu

Be what you are meant to be

கிட்டி (kidi), நம்பி (thambi)

Yes I am effeminate, but what of it?

Somebody needs to be!

All rights reseved!

Newest Poetry

Can you hear the falling rain

On the old tin roof overhead

Pitte pat, spitter, spat

Clouds grey and heavy

Off in the distance the roar of thunder

Sun setting in its fullness and glory

Filling up the sky

Duck settling in, mights but a breath away

Tucked in grammy's feather bed

Pitter pat, spitter spat

Drip drop drip, rain drops fall harder

Ligthening stikes once, twice

Roars filling the sky

"Grammy where's Mr. Bear"

Tears of fear flooding my eyes

She hands me a bear

Made of mohair with glass eyes

"This isn't Mr. Bear:, I plead

Tears of misunderstanding flooding my eyes

"OK, Charlie your right

I'll got get him"---I hide in the feather bed covers

Mr. Bear, Mr. Bear there you are

My arms engulfing him in love

Chase my fears and worries away

HIs shoe button eyes see my fear and grief

Understanding my childish heart

Chasing the monster under my bed far away

Knowing this little boy's secrets

Held in my arms every night

My eyes closing to fairyland dreams

"Mr. Bear take my hand, please speak to me"

Childhood has ended my fears and doubts

Intact still in the mind of a man

Arms that hold you still

My secrets stil told

A little boy inside, hoping once more

For the rain to fall once again

No longer the full grown man

But just the boy in grammy's feather bed

Mr. Bear on her pillow still



Newest Poetry

A life filled with silent yearning desire

Burning, churning, building and evolving

In this state of loneliness how I long

Crave that feeling of completeness

Of wholeness that I know I need

From within the torturous pain of

Solitude and silence my heart calls

For a touch, an embrace, a kiss

To know that if even it is briefly

I am desirable, I am needed

 am wanted, that you crave me

To hold me in your arms just once

Your eyes melt into mine with a glance

Fingers in my hair

Lips pressed against mine for now

The sense of wholeness

A completed oneness

Bodies melded together for a moment

Your fingers undoing my buttons

Of a crisp white cotton shirt

It falling off my needing shoulders

Tender kisses from your lips

Scattered like petal on my chest

I moan in delight under your touch

Speak but once my name of

Passion turned to love

My eyes pleading for you

To need more than just this time and space

Your yearning matching mine

Not just the moment of sexual urgency

Your hands cradle my face

My thoughts say my unspoken words

I need you to really love me

To fall madly, deeply, passionately

Head over heels, spiritually, morally,

Ethically sexually fall in love with me

My heart needs mended

A life that's been torn asunder

G-d I crave you to say and mean

Those three little words.....

I love you!

Carry me not just to your bed

But into the depths of your heart and soul

I need thee like no other before or since

Our eyes first met it was love at first sight for me

Embrace me in your arms

I beg of thee, Oh how I needest thee

Once in your bed I am yours

Smother me in kisses, caress my naked flesh

Make me long for you to take me

To the brink of ecsasy and back

My darling, my beauty can you but please

Love me true

Newest Poetry

Of pale moonlight kisses

Brief moments of sunrises glory

Drawing me into love's tender embrace

Passions throbbing 'tween us

Sheilding me from the powers

Of a demon beyond all compare

Wanting to snuff my very life out

Dying for all eternity's moment

Had it been except for

Thine pale moonlight splended kisses

You cast thy spell o'er my head

But oh noble knight of mine

The deomn rages still

Sleeping in eh fleshy cave

But once more of pale moonlight splendid kisses

Hiding me from his fiery eyes of rage

Even now I cry to thee of Love

Said so sweet to speak its name

Yielding the sword clenched near thy breast

Thy arm raiseth high

Blade swift and sure

Slaying the deomn in the shadows

HIs once eyes bright but flooded with death

The hellish dream is o'er

Thy love for me has conquered all

Once more of pale moonlight splendid kisses

Dreams of Wonderland---new poetry

Prose poetry for my Intro to Creative Writing class.....

Dreams of Wonderland
A button on a vest, is that a white rabbit? Tonight I bundle China white. The pain as never before from blue heavens rain. Barbiturates always in a hurry, my body always in need. The buzzing of red and blues. Is the white rabbit’s jacket yellow? The dope says “Maryann get my gloves and my fan.” White sugars the ecstasy of candy flipping. Niven Mc Twisp says “No more teas, only a business man’s lunch Maryann you bitch.”

The blue caterpillar sits on the magic mushroom calling forth the California sunshine by asking “Who are you?” The simplest of answers my reply “Just Maryanne you see.” Nearby blue frogs tripper away, someone finally being friendly more so than Absolem. Those frogs putting gold dust on my feet before the path I take. The road dope leads to Tweedledee and Tweedledum who carry hard candy in their pockets they speak of a walrus and the carpenter who become blue cheer goofball dealers on the black road to euphoria.

The gong of freebase violence. She screams to me “Off with her head.” Ungovernable passion of rope window panes. My soul lost in its haze of flamingo croquet in Jamaican jive stick pocket rockets. Iracebeth, in blindness and fury, asks “If I direct the upper winds or am I just not a witch?”

The lacing of the Queen of Hearts, I let her rave and channel till my skin is popping. A tyrant to burn out bleeding from the depths of her purple heart. She casts me out no mere Maryann. No more laughing gas, the electric Kool-Aid stand has closed. This trip is wearing off. I must look through the looking glass. Just a simple mere Alice once more, shit .

Newest Poetry

This came last night while trying to finish reading "The Lonely Well" by Radclyffe Hall


From our faraway childhood homes
Raised in love and glory
From the womb we came
Born this way
No choosing of our own, but divine plan

What knew we of difference
Of the branding in our hearts
The searing of our minds
That mad us different in our love
When were we really aware of it
Can we remember when we found the words

I am sure we can easily remember
When others saw the branding of our hearts
The voices of hatred began
During recess, on the ride home on the bus
Your a faggot, sissy queer boy
Does you mother know your a queen

The scars are numerous
The burden a heavy weight to bear
It did get only worse
Others moved away cutting all ties
The past forgotten

Moving to big cities
New York City, Cleveland, San Fransisco
Palm Springs, Washington D.C.
Our trip through the rainbow
To become friends of Dorothy
Filling our lives with Pride

Some took action, became involved
Stonewall, ACT UP, Queer Nation
Others ran for office and held seats
G-d bless you Harvey Milk
Drag queens who threw bricks
Our brothers fighting for research

Some of us destroyed ourselves
To many trips to drown our sorrows
The bars, the booze, the pills
Others who had endless parades
Of men in our beds needing no names
No questions asked no answers needed

Amidst all the rampant sex
Of fearless faceless frenzy fucking
A demon entered our lives
The senseless butcher
My brothers, my brothers all dead
Our passions fire died

Regan said nothing for years
One complex drug was all we had
The brave, the strong, the beautiful
Became the withering, the dead, the lost
Our Ozian cities hit the hardest
No mere Emerald City dream anymore

Nearly thirty years have passed
Our history at times forgotten
Brothers stories take to the grave
Locked in wooden caskets
Buried under the Western castle
Was it our wickedness this we caused

Have we forgot the price
We have painfully paid to be
Who we simply are
Bisexual Boys
Lesbian Ladies
Transsexual Folk

Gay is more than happy
This mush is true
Our history full and rich
Of great joy and success
Tremendous loss and unspeakable pain
The lessons we have learned

The story we MUST share
I urge you with all my might
Be vocal, be diligent, be heard
Hide no more in our closets
It will get better
The fight has only just begun

So much to do
To be accepted
To fully and freely love
To make the difference
For those that follow
It's all we can leave behind

There's no place like home
Home is where the heart is
There's no place like home
Such a place does exist
There's no place like home
Come on Toto, let's go HOME

Newest Poetry----"Do I....."

Of deep unspoken longings
To but gaze upon you across the room
Of masculine marble like manly flesh
Oh to taste his sweet savory dew like kisses
Of the pale violet sunlight on Christopher Street

To hold his hand in mine
The private musical of us in my mind
The smell of ruggedness as sweet perfume
Of what could be the quiet joy of brotherhood
Let him just once kiss me on Halstead Street
With the touch of his lips

My own warrior rebel
That our desire should be shared could
Lead to our wholeness once out of Eden's gate
Fairy tales do come true on Castor Street
Guide my heart out of my desert of loneliness

Once I have tasted his sweet savory kisses
Some say rebellion began
Hearts filled with the camp of Christmas
Can what we share be but the higher law
Would the fruit of this be sweet to taste

The pinnacle of spirit on Fire Island
To be but more than friends dare I say
To desire the crooked road
To our iniquities den in Hell's Kitchen
Our protection of what is right, just and good

Passion flung out of eternal fires
My soft beautiful vaporous being
Bitter bitchy queens at the door mocking
That this feeling is mine and I am his
With no doubt or uncertainty at all

Can this be sweeter than wine
Do I dare gaze into your eyes
Speak my name to you
Or do I stand
Quiet, unspoken delights
Never revealed

Newest Poetry

Ok the assignment for this class poem was taking the abstract ino the concrete.  An item of our choosing, I think once you read this you will get it right away

“How Much Did I Really Embrace”

The soft morning glow washes over the sky
A quietness of pink and amber floods over my head
The futon that overlooks Santa Monica beach
My naked form sits, my eyes see the article
Of loss beyond all words and thoughts

It was in that morning glow of day
When the sun turned black as sack cloth
The whole of the hidden moon became as blood
Your presence entered into my very existence
The stars did not fall from the skies
But my life has never been the same

It spoke of a cancerous being
A shadowed affliction
Of beautiful buff bathhouse boys
Beyond the ecstasy of steam and sex
The long slow fading of us began
But it wouldn’t be me
No mere bathhouse whore boy am I

Your strong masculine form filled the patio door
Strength of wisdom the serenity of your beauty
Your nakedness evident of work, time and dedication
The whiteness of your tan lines framing your form
Is that a blemish there on you thigh
But the thoughts of the pending monster
Never crossed our minds

Two years later
Oh the fatality of it all
The script written in hell itself
The deft hands of the serial butcher
Have ripped you asunder
Torn you from the arms that love you

Ravenous sulfur smoking laughter
From the monsters mouth doth spew
After all isn’t it to be just
The beautiful buff bathhouse boys
Religious zealots enforce that theory
Can that be true, signs attest but are they right
That only faggots queers and sissy boys
Deserve this fate

A time of white lilies has come
As early as the first day dawning of spring
Forty-seven calling hours
The people who have shared my life
Only in seven weeks’ time
How did I survive
Do phantom arms hold me up

The silent serial killer stalking us
Smothering our very community in darkest byways
While in the midst of love and passion
Turning that into the cold ashen corpse
Their names sewn and filling the Mall
More than their memories buried in those left alive

The old spiritual choir long ago ended
The pews all but empty and worn
The espresso ugliness of sulfur weeping
Of deep blue demons from Hades bowels
Twenty-five years later
Millions are dead
I stopped counting my friends
Stolen from me at six hundred
NAMES

I have faced this deft handed butcher of lives
Its antiquity ragged cloak weighing as lead
In the firm grip of my hands
How much have I let this demon embrace me
From within the depths of

The insane asylum that is my mind
What was the prison of the straight jacket
This evil must not take reign of my being
How much of this did I really embrace

This blue black espresso ugliness of demon
Has occupied my very body for twenty years
Pills to drown its goliath power over me
What have I learned
That the fear of this demon really is
Has been found out and I alone know it
That we are living longer than we were
The dawn of pink and amber
Once more can flood even the Castro
That the horror, the sorrow and the fear
Have all been very real
But the only power
This blue black espresso ugliness possesses
Is now and forever more
Only what we give it

How then can my brothers you
Not know of this serial butcher with deft hands
That we flock back to the ecstasy of steam and sex
To what was the horrors of the underground
No more just beautiful buff bathhouse boys
The rampant serial butcher of children in Africa
Thousands slaughtered in India the hatchets man’s dream come true
Have we forgotten the blue black espresso ugliness
Of that demon
Or is he after all under control only his voice left
Inside my head