Posts tagged poetry

Letting go is the journey to the top of a cliff you’re not sure you can climb, putting on a life-vest you’re not sure will save you, and jumping down into the sea when you can’t swim. It is doing all these things for the freedom of falling: sinking into the gaseous sky like heavy fruit plopped into plastic produce bags. The air stretches and sags but it is strong, and there is at least a minute, which feels like an hour, before the bag will break and ground will claim me. I will no doubt bruise: parts of me will become soft and suspicious, testing the weight of the fingers that prod it, testing the weight of their touch. Purple, these parts will glow from beneath my skin. They will smell of sugar and the July sun, the sun that comes to strangle water from the crop…..

Since I was fifteen years old my mind was a mangrove bay collecting memories, pulling them in like shoes lost in a battle to the swamp. When someone loses a shoe in the mangroves it is always just one, as if the swamp wants you to remember when you were a pair, body and soul, and the soul did not leave without the body. Wasn’t that the promise of life – that the soul and body, for now, were one? I was the type of child to see the mangroves from the sand, wondering if mangoes and mangroves were etymologically kin, keeping my distance from the prospect of being sucked in but mesmerized by the fall.

I learned falling at six months, old already: born with dead skin, skin that would fall away when I walked, or sat in hot sun. I was born with dead skin: my portal to the world dry and hard, diseased, as if there was something on the other side of my skin that was dangerous

My Mother:

On the third year of your death I think of jail:

I think of the three days and nights I spent in a cell

With no way to mark the time and no bruise to prove

It was self-defense: I thought of how his lies were like him leaving, and leaving is when a lover takes a part of your life you both had agreed to share. I think of the days before the arrest: how I had ached for quiet, but when the quiet came

It was the third year of your death, I still miss your arms most – your arms were fields with no fences, and they are barbed wire; they were aloe and its thorns. At night my bed is both a river and the rapids, for in love, as in art, there is both positive and negative space. The black defines the white. The lines we draw define the space. And the lines hug the space like a dying child.

- Krys Assan

(ms.kassan@hotmail.com)

*FLOW NOTE*

This piece is simply beautiful. It is so profound and thought provoking with the journey it encompasses within the lines, assembling a piece so damn poetic in its expression towards the audience whether or not if it was its intention. I thoroughly enjoyed this Krys, I hope to see much more.

-flow

Poetry saved my life you know?

I found the rhythm in my heart on the beat most never see…

Shall I proceed?

Reckonings in a place most don’t ever identify

So…

I said…

Poetry saved my life you know?

I found the rhythm in my heart on the beat most never see…

Beginnings with Tylenol, seduction by codeine,

Docs giving high hopes with the morphine,

Numbing down my life; Novocaine,  and dopamine in the growth of mind characterizing of a beast, like…

Viagra enhancing the growth of mine, stuck between a place of hard and mellow

All while seeking out cc’s while my mental still on life;

[tranq]uility  

Plunging my dependency, do have you the decency to remember me,

Even as you lowered my cell count to repair ruptures you created under pressure

Asking me on a scale of 1-10 how does my love feel, when all I felt was your pain

Your spitefulness and your bullshit amplified by your lies

Your lies to make my infirmary better

But

Those numbers of my love have no bearings

Because of the pain… the pain you gave is infinite

Meshing a new scar to coexist my life

Impressions for eternity reliving the memory of you in similar emotions…

similar scents

Similar tastes

Only to depreciate the fact that, I, or we;

Met

Losing my value in mental currency

Taking a toll on this poetry within no expectation of itself;

I made her my patient; she is my patient

I am her cure in the penned cc’s, liquid rhythms & dope beats

So, now you know…

… How dope poetry saved my life

What began as a passionate refuge 

Is now a terrorist group aimed at and by Black men 

Gone are the dreams of white picket fences

Two and half children, a spouse and 401K

Dreams of writing nonsensical lyrics have entered

With its rules and guidelines as to what

Makes up a “real nigga”

Charmed by the lust of money

He strives to create the latest shucks and jives

And boasts about rented and repossessed luxuries

Set out to be men, not a term of endearment

Derived from days of chains and whips

The measure of a man is

Not how defiant he is to laws and authority

Not how much money he can acquire illegally

Not how many illegitimate children he can create

Not how much platinum and bottles he can afford

Not how much he calls women bitches and hoes

The Black man’s poison and lifeline

With younger generations following suit

Pull the trigger

Strip skin, soul and bone

What lies underneath?

What is the measure of a man?

- Phoenix

You can fin more from Phoenix at www.PinkBrassKnuckles.com

A wise man once told me that “X” & “O”

Are not just defined as kisses & hugs

In fact they are African symbols with numerical value

Representing the God/Goddess in us all

So “X” me a kiss my queen you are my “X” symbol of Amsu,

Resurrection of Osiris, directing my iris because all eyes are on you,

To dwell within the indwelling Spirit of all creation matter of which is Isis  

This is priceless the eternal renewal of yourself

Multiplying of itself like God is everywhere in your beauty

Factor “X “cite ment into the equation, the multiplication sign which means growing

Numerically meaning ten (10) 10 to the power of 10 your love is 10 X more  insatiable

So “O” me a hug, “O” the symbol of never ending like unseen ring on your finger

I promise wedding cakes as sweet as you “O” my! “O” dear

“O” the multiplier of 10

“O” opens and closes all numbers of which only 10 exist… 0-9

And If I had 9 lives, 9 wives will be you

Creation is a number, so your creation is the perfect number

The Alpha and Omega

In which time starts at one point and returns back there… Infinity

The “X” & “O” of Eternal Love

So…….

Exponentially love me forever XO, XO

AXe out time for it has no reverence

Consume me as you breathe me with all flaws perfectly placed

These character traits impress you to stay in my space

For you took me as I am

Who I am now…. while in the state of becoming

She challenged me to love fearlessly

Live… like my life depends on it, because it does!

She said I implore you to find my beauty and adore me regardless

Breathe me…inhale life, exhale love

Respiratory at its best

Just touch me as if it was your first and last time…Cover me like air

Let’s talk in breaths for silence is more urgent than sirens

And conversations of the mind speak in thoughts so beautifully

Hello beautiful, as you read to me short stories of motivation

Motivating the ants to dance on picnic covers 

Motivating the sun to bathe in sky

That left me in awe gently stealing my breath away…

Even then it is You… that leaves me breathless

Not knowing she’s all the motivation I need

Not knowing I’ll cradle her hopes and nurture her dreams

Not knowing I saw her wingspan wrap around the earth 4X times for each letter of the word Love…

Angels Love to hide in humans

I put on the cloak of vulnerability

And wear the writing on my sleeve so you can read me

Recite insights into my character as if her name was horoscope

Clearly more prevalent by nature as we teach and learn through experience

Recycle me into memory for I will never forget you

Be as intricate as D.N.A.

Be as simple as love is to God

Stimulating as touch is to newborn

May my actions speak in every language known to man so it can never be misunderstood the purity of my intentions…

Let every moment be a surprise like the trickling of raindrops on windshields,

Or when you smile that smirk that slips sunrays through the side of your mouth

For the nearness of you is sunshine pervading…

Whisper me a choir of hope for the both of us

We dance to your hum on the wind of  life’s breath

Plant it and harvest forestry of grey hairs silver in tone that tell tales of family,

Generated for generations to come

Fruition of love stories to come

Breathe me….. Live me, as I breathe you

Isn’t that what soul mates do?

I …“X” you a kiss

I …“O” you a Hug

XO, XO 

Eternal Love

- Native Son

Copyright (c) 2010 

Leave me to be

Allow me to soak in, and absorb your rich medium,

 Falling into the grips of your energy; your flow

I’m disappearing, equipped with sophisticated tactics

Evading all organic life in such revitalization all while I drift in the belief of you

Whisper me your thoughts, seduce my eardrum with the slick beat of your tongue

 Does that sleek move perceive your world?

Are you telling me just what I want to hear?

Cuz’ babygirl… I’m listening…

Tease my pinna with nibbles and metaphors of your life

Let me listen to the fluency of your flow as we drop out of it,

Mesmerized by our tones, and smooth characters in sensual decibels

 I’ve become deaf to the orchestra of the outer rims,

My soul reverberates with your syllables,

Producing a repetition of uncommon notes and tenor…

And, babygirl, I’m alive here…

Place your initials on that spot you love…

Ink me with your kisses that’ll last forever, engraving your struggle on my scars just to show the war was worth it

The war was worth it…

And that strength that you had, now possesses me as if I’m Regan Macneil

Only change is, that I don’t escape your possession, your energy protects me

So let it get sensual engaging it sexual

Forgetting the pen,

 The pad,

 Let me use you neck for my words,

And tease your pinna with my metaphors, so you can feel,

 Your flow…

“DOCTOR! DOCTOR!

De-fib me, I’m still alive in here,

I see you counting the beats to my heart; fear my resilience

Don’t give up easily on me even as I stand between fact and destiny

DOCTOR! DOCTOR!

De-fib me; my rhythm is weak but my song is beautiful

I lay watching, loss of speech, but you listen,

You glance and time me as the words seek the EKG

DOCTOR! DOCTOR!

Death aligns me; seems so free,

As I float effortless with my vision tampered: clouds in me”

DOCTOR! DOCTOR!

De-fib me, I’m still alive in here,

I see you counting the beats to my heart; I need my love

I can’t leave; it’s too early…

Pain latches like a skull to neck but it’s obsolete to the empty feeling of your absence

Doc… Doc… No; don’t leave…

My pulse is still here, MY PULSE IS STILL HERE!

Even if my rhythm is weak, the song is beautiful…”