on love. and the walls that fear it.

19 Nov

there aren’t air bubbles in concrete,
but i can sho nuff stuff love in between my walls –
couture, made to fit.
shit.
i got walls tall enough for clouds to stand on,
strong enough to hold all of my dead weight.
and they really do hold
all
of my
dead weight.
but they remember i’m living,
at least
just enough
so i can pretend
i’m living.
these damn walls,
like saran wrap for my dreams.
like my down coat with the fur around the hood,
it ain’t the prettiest
but i never get wet.  

i swear i love this man.  god knows i love this man.  my heart understands, but she thinks she is smarter than god.  she thinks she can control it, manage it.  but it is bigger than her entire life, than all the air she will ever breathe.  she don’t know what love is.  cause, damn.  if she knew…

if she knew that love could make her clean, and make her whole, and all her ugly and all her pretty and all her crazy and all her poetry and her intellectual dances, everything she knows, and everything she wish she did, it’s all the same to him – if she knew what love was, more than what she felt, more than what she saw, well then… i suppose she wouldn’t cry so much about loneliness that never existed.  and distance.

if she could see what love knows, and what faith trusts… well then.  i believe she would probably float.  or whatever non-heavy things do.

if she could see what love sees, she would know god.  and life would be different, all of it.

love colors your eyes so that even when it rains, the sun is always standing next to you, holding your hand.  probably dancing, if that’s what you’re into.  and you really get lucky if love makes you laugh.  and you are truly blessed if he can move your spirit with his smile, and you let him.

i sat up in my bed, and thought to call him.  but instead, i let myself meditate on my mountaintop, so that when i came down, i could take him with me.

 

buzzkill (re: april, 2008)

13 Sep

unintentional intense intimacy
amidst fake affection we imitated initially…
but
we couldn’t fake the fuckin
while i was fakin and frontin on the feelings i was duckin
i think maybe i felt what i wasn’t supposed to
i think its cuz it wasn’t love makin, and i loved you
(or wanted to)
for the record:  it was me –  not you
tried to keep what i was feelin inside
but it was like my heart refused to hide
and it was its most vulnerable at the worst time
you know? those moments while we’re trying to get ‘high’
emotions can be the worst buzz kill

let me be here (a haiku)

22 Aug

now let me be here
alone in this room.  indeed,
wherever i end,

there is you.
i want to see you,

  • love.

perspective

8 May

love colors your eyes so that even when it rains, the sun is always standing next to you, holding your hand.  probably dancing, if that’s what you’re into…  

number 3.

29 Feb

(written to “number 3” by ben harper)

0:13

the first one,
he couldn’t hold me
we had too big eyes.
the second one,
he couldn’t trust me
his love was in his smile.
and number 3,
well she,
was the one
the one who
who helped me
find you.
it was she,
me loving me.

it was she,
me loving me.

conversations with god.

28 Feb

you speak to me,
but i don’t listen.
i mean,
i go through the motions –
i hear you, and
i understand, and
my chest swells with tears
and they promise something new,
but my feet –

they never take me there
my heart has yet to move me there.
we

are unwilling
to do the work.
too attached
to too weak substitutes
strong enough
to distract me.
and i am like an addict.
i poke at my skin
fill up
with what is passing,
and never raise an eye
up.
i know you see me,
but i won’t look.
i am running.
no.
i am boldly avoiding you.
truth.

1 Feb

Revolutionary Petunia

(artwork by laurie cooper)

after school today, a ninth grader i had never met came to me to talk. at the moment he introduced himself to me i had not anticipated that he would begin narrating the last 5 years of his life.  but he ended up telling me about his first girlfriend – a relationship that ended when she died two years ago while he was in the 7th grade.  (imagine.)  and then he told me about his first boyfriend – a relationship that ended abruptly last night and “not on good terms,” as he explained it.  and with all of that, he also described to me his experiences relating to others, or others’ experiences (not) relating to him.

he was surprisingly calm, and maybe it was only because he already exploded earlier that day in his last class (hence his impromptu visit to my office – his way…

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