Poem 2: A Poets Heart

A Poet's Heart


by Stormy Monday


What would sunder a poet’s heart more
than being ignored?
It is no doubt, not being heard.
The sediments of my words,
my thoughts
echo in abandoned stations,
litter busy sidewalks,
and suffer lonely street corners.
Murdered by numbers that
keep time with my patience,
stopping clocks and disappearing acts
keep me guessing
for the future
of my life
and of humankind.


My words bounce off steel buildings,
left cold and shivering
by cyber roadsides
From a lovers fingers I hear the blatant
click clacking over my words
pass right by my heart
and leave me running behind
begging for his ear to listen.


Flickering lights populate the city
picturesque of a limited intelligence.
Pure evidence of forgotten humanity
and our righteous beginnings.
I shout out at the street lights,
"DAMN YOU AND YOUR SLAVISH
EXISTENCE”!


You can stand there in your obscene arrogance but
DON’T YOU DARE THROW ME AWAY"!


In my struggle,
my spirit continues to dwell in
the primordial waters of my ancestors.
I seek redemption in the sacred tombs
of the forgotten Kings and Queens.
HE in many faces pays me favor
for my deligence in keeping the message
and history lifted
in this sacrilegious world.


Blessed are my tears for the cause.
I am one of many fighting and
surviving the perils of psuedo propinquity.
My words are not without conviction
nor are they without deed.
I will ride or die for these words.


So,
find me at the end of the road
among the ranks
of the enlightened souls.
While these truths guide me and
lead me to promised shores
the ignorant shall remain nameless
in the eyes of a true soldier.
This is where I began,
this is what I am,
and here is where
I will take my last breathe.

Poem "Untitled"

You stand there
not surprised
as another door
closes right in
your face.

You hear footsteps,
walk away without care.
You hear no hesitations
as if,
maybe,
there had been a mistake.

It is no surprise to you
that there are no requests for
forgiveness.

In that moment
there is no one in the world
but you.
Well, at least in your world.

What is it about you
that made him run away
than to stay
when you needed him the most?

What is it about you
that made him feel
that real communication
came in the form of
insults and fists?

What is it about you
that made him
abandon you.
As if, he forgot that
he was ever in love
with your mother?

What happened to make you tired?
What happened to make you cry?
What happened to make you doubt yourself?
What happened to make you break?

You don't know and don't care about
the psychology of the Black Woman.

You could care less about our state of mind,
unless, it benefits you.

It takes too much time, too much energy.

Hell, to them, you're just not worth it.

Jazz Me Up!

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