Ugly

This is the ugliest poem
What do you call a poem
That announces Sabriya McLean
Was made a was
Because she met
Twenty-three years old
Cole Swaringer - Herring
On Facebook

He was-ed Sabriya by stabbing her
Eighty times
Then he set her on fire

And this isn't about me
Except it is
How do I as a poet
Similie her black body back to life
What good is anybody's
Black girl magic
When it won't let Sabriya see
Her sixteenth birthday

What good is the world when
Her body is behind his parent's home
Waiting
Dead and stabbed and burned
And waiting

Now a black man wishes he were only
In Facebook jail
Now we wish we could un once upon a time this time
Now Sabriya's parents want a do over
Now nothing makes sense

Not the tears
Not the grief
Not the whys
Not this ugly poem

Nothing

Except this isn't about you either
Except it is
What part of
A black man stabbed a black girl
Then burned her body
And this ugly belongs to all of us now
Are we not getting

What kind of world is that this is news
That this is family business
What happens when we haven't even dried these tears
And another is killed and carved and burned
What about then

What about all that ugly then

Clean up. Move where?

I just saw a big trash truck on the sidewalk under the bridge on Venice near Cadillac where people sleep in tents. The city was cleaning out a man's space. I hope they aren't clearing all of them out of there. To go where?

Picking up meds.

Monday, April 29, 2019 10:21am Los Angeles

I'm at the library right now. I came to L.A. early because I needed to pick up my meds. I'm feeling better today than I did this weekend. I did enjoy spending time with my family but was a little irritated. I think mostly because I haven't been taking my meds and so I was a bit off.

Tonight is CLI night and I have work to do before class so I'm going to get to it.

Have an incredible day and love yourselves.

Ding a ling

My cousin calls his ding a ling / and I wonder what he calls his hands / his toes / I have had lovers who named theirs there / Johnson / Rally / Mr. Bone / and I think / what parts of me are worthy of a nick name / I can't come up with any / I sit with it / I like my mouth best / should call it Robin or Michelle / then name my stomach and my knees / my little cousin is on to something / I think / how he loves himself enough to call himself / something

Gray

I want a gray love
Like my temples
Like the sky during sweater weather
A gray love will leave me alone when I need space
Will block the sun when I am already warm enough
A gray love will count freckles and rub shoulders
A gray love will not complain about my cooking
Although a gray love will love my grits and eggs
Sunny
Side
Up

Bothered

Saturday, April 27, 2019 4:09pm Long Beach

Waiting for my mom to get dressed. Headed to my aunt's house in Palmdale to celebrate her birthday. I'm so irritated. I shouldn't go but my mother really wants me to. I hope I make it through this. It is so not a good time for me to be around people.

Happy

I could not explain to my doctor that it is impossible for my pills to work when Kashala Francis is dead / because she and I are only black girls left to his Google / he suggested I try six sessions of ECT to snap out of this sad / electric shock therapy / except in his words it's better than the old days and not like the movies / he said / your whole body won't shake it will only zap your brain / like I don't need all of my brain / like this black woman could present as stupid anywhere

We

You are a poem I keep starting over / scratching out lines / looking for the right phrase / you are the stanza I cannot get good / the performance that will not mouth well / I don't trust you on the open mic of my life / we are too much metaphor / I am bored with our story / tired of the rewrite / too grown for sight words

For Kashala Francis

The cruelty in the world confuses me
The boys will be boys
The girls will be girls too
A girl got jumped by three girls and died
Thirteen years old
Kicked in the head
Nobody thought an apple could rot this soon
But she is dead today
Her body will turn to ashes
Her name in my poem
Her laugh in her mother's tears
In my hope that her family will live through the mud of grief
And see light again
Understand breathing again
Because stone
Because this must be rock hard
Because steady tears
Because life could be stuck on a Monday loop for all of us

Home

I saw the knife first
Black handle fisting out of
His pocket
Like a dare
Like a muthafucka won't
Placed the rug on the ground gentle
Like dressing a baby
Ripped boxes to roof his body
Cart parked close
Filled with bags, water, yesterdays
Two eyes close
Only one rests
A prayer
Smell of jasmine
Backpack for a pillow
Piece of hope for tomorrow

Dear strong woman

Finish your fucking cry
Even if it lasts longer than
Licorice sky
Your water is bold enough for the
Day

Clouds

Does it keep you up at night
Like a drip
Like ants crawling fire cross your skin
Like bees too close to your ears
The things we do
How we turn away
Babies dying
Bullies
Saying her name
Me too
The clouds that come
I can't breathe

Does the rain acid your skin
Poison in the food
Way we do the land
A boy in Alabama killed himself
A girl in California
Streets not safe
Day or dark

Do the verses and suras and songs
Feed your hunger
Calm your restless body
Your insides upside down

Have you been on a plane before
A train
A fast car going nowhere
Did you touch the sun
Do you feel lucky
Do you feel safe

Churches burning
School shootings
The crosses
The hoods
The badges
The robes

Maybe this could have been
Some kind of heaven
Some kind of farm where we all eat
Some kind of world without the wars

Long ride

The time I met your mother we drove to Mexico
She sat in the back seat on the trip home
And watched my shy hand reach for yours
Watched you pull your hand away like it was on fire

Black women like me

I have conversations with memories of ex lovers
Perhaps more often than is healthy
But the words know they are important
And I will not be healed until they come swimming out like fish

I am still using fake names to protect the guilty

I am still appalled at Robert who wanted me to suck his herpes dick and then got mad when I said no
Because who am I but a regular black woman
And black women like me know we better be lucky
We know we better know how to cook like his mama
We know we better like his mama

He said I wasn't bringing enough to the table and I didn't even have a college degree
I needed a better job and my car got repossessed

Regular black women like me know
We better pay our bills on time
We know we better have enough for him to hold

Thomas told me I had a pretty face but he perferred mixed girls and he liked a big ass but not one as big as mine

I told Eddie about the preacher who used to kiss me with his tongue when I was a little girl
He said that was a good story but it wasn't true

Who believes black women
Why is it so hard
My jouranls and blogs are thick with questions

Kieth told me he didn't like the texture of my hair or how silly I acted when I was with my best friend

By the time Lonnie showed up I didn't know how to deal with a good man
I didn't understand a man who wanted to know my stories
Wanted to hold my hand
What was I supposed to do
Believe him?

Black women like me know we better get over it
We know we better snap out of it
We know we better keep private business private

But what about black women like me who haven't forgotten
Who are poets
Who still love black men
Who still have stories to tell

Safe men

I leaned to never choose men for love
He won't hit me
He won't rape me
I chose for safety
He won't scream obsenities in my ear in the middle of the night

But I ignored what I wanted
Because he didn't hit me
But he didn't love me
He punched holes in the walls
He screamed at me anyway
He raped me anyway

He didn't yell but he didn't talk to me
We rarely laughed
Sex was a bore

I wasted years on safe men
He was in the church
The safest of them all
And was dating three other women there

But I was safe
And lonely
And bored
And what woman would want a life so free

Partking lot wars

Hit me, bitch! Hit me!
She screamed at him in the parking lot at Walmart
He didn't hit her though
Witcho punk ass! Hit me! Hit me!
Still nothing
I almost wish though
Just a little

Don't assume

Although I share when I'm going through mania or depression here and on Facebook. I would much perfer to share in person especially with close friends and family. There is nothing I'm asking you to fix. I just want you to listen without suddenly changing the subject or preaching to me. Please help me that way.

Plus, don't assume you know how I feel by how I look or sound. Hearing "well you look / sound well" doesn't feel like a compliment. It feels like you're ready to end the conversation. Black women know to look and sound well because people don't generally believe we are in pain. Believe us no matter what we sound like.

Pomona. Easy day. Poetry.

Wednesday, April 17, 2019 12:08pm Pomona. Home.

I'm not very busy today except this is a cleaning day. I'm changing one of the rooms in the house as my writing space. I'm also going to tackle the bathroom I use. It would be great if a good poem came out of all that.

I'm looking to book another pop up poetry event soon. Tilita said that she would talk to her husband about having something in their backyard. That would be nice. Well, I've tested enough today and I'm going to get started on my day.

Love yourselves.

Heart

I don't remember the first boy who broke my heart / my heart has always been a broken thing / least that's how I remember / but then there was Thomas who said I would be cute if I wasn't so skinny / so I ate and ate until I was a thing too big to love / too broken to possess / and Malik was there with his arms waiting as the softest place to land but he had no imagination and didn't make me laugh / so I left / I left everything / my clothes / my journals / computer / dildo / my heart was already broken / broken first by my father whose humanity was a thing I was too young to understand / who was the first boy to break your heart she said / I said my heart / what heart

Release

Writing poetry brings out the hate in me
At least it's not in me
I say to myself
At least it's left on some stage some page

I bet you wonder about the world
Isn't the world enough of a mess

I say the world is more of a war with  the sores we walk around with
Festering
Breaking open
Spilling inside

At least it's outside of me
Where we can mop it up
With amonia
A prayer
Band aids

Ain't I a Godly woman

He said he only dated happy women / and me and my suicidal thoughts get in the way and what would he do anyway and what would that say about him with a woman who didn't believe in God / I said I  very much believe in God / then why are you overweight / why can't you submit to a man / what would a Godly woman be depressed about / I said a depressed, overweight, Godly woman like myself has her reasons and Godly men like you are a part of them

No pass

When my white supervisor
Demanded her assistant to bring her black ass into the office

When I told her I was offended she said she didnt remember saying it
But if she did she was sorry

2. When I had my first business meeting with a white man who thought it best to break the ice with a joke. A joke where he used the word nigger twice.

Of all the jokes in all the land...

White privilege is saying sorry if...
White privilege is coming strapped with only one joke...

Body

My head is hot sun
My fingers are still waters
My stomach the grand canyon
It's a miracle at all I parked this car

My feet are the the ocean
My hands palm trees
My hair the L.A. River
How was I ever born

He asked my name
I said I don't know
But I think I'm a poet
Born of some kind of God

He said impossible
I said how else could you explain
The world between my ears
Fish and flowers and fruit in my toes

He asked when I was born and
How I live in a body

I said I don't know
I could only ask God
About the mystery she makes
Like how my hands sound like war when they clap
My voice sounds like birds when it sings
I said I don't know
I don't know
Like when I look into the mirror
The whole world is looking backing at me
Even the whales even the devil
Even the blooming flowers
The waving butterflies
I would think this a dream if I didn't know better
Or so me horror movie
If only I believed

But this is my body
I am the week of creation
I am the big bang
Whichever you believe

Call me what you will
But believe it or not
Know that I am real

Yo mama this

Yo mama so black
Yo mama so fat
Yo mama so ugly

Yo mama so cook for you
Yo mama so make yo bed
Yo mama so show up in class
Yo mama so dry all yo tears

Yo mama so skinny
Yo mama breath so stank

Yo mama so wash yo clothes
Yo mama so drive you to school
Yo mama so stay up late with you

Yo mama can't afford a box of Cheerios
Yo mama buy off brand shoes

Yo mama
Yo mama
Yo mama

Tomorrow

I will breathe again
I ain't some long slow sad song
Will sing and dance too

Za'Yn. Hospital. Art.

Sunday, April 7, 2019 7:48pm Long Beach

Today I sat with my goddaughter in the hospital. She has sickel cell animia and had an attack recently. She was in good spirits today. For an eight year she's really strong. I feel for her and am so thankful that she's feeling better.

I left the hospital and went to deliver some art I sold. Thank God for sold art. Now I'm in Long Beach at my sister's place with my mom, sister and son. Everyone else is out somewhere. Uraeus and I will be leaving to go home soon. It's good to be with family today, even if we don't have a bunch of time together.

I'm working on posting a poem today. Nothing is coming. It's national poetry month so poets around the world are celebrating by posting a poem a day. I'm about to get to it. Hope your day is going well.

Time

Sometimes it
All feels like
The last
Time
Anything
Everything

Queen

Bitch
Slut
I don't love them hoes
Nappy
Hooker
Thot
Bitch better have my money
I don't give a fuck about a bitch
Pass her around
Pop it like it's hot
Motherfuckin trick ass hoe ass cunt

Bubba

When I was a little girl
My Uncle Bubba was
The smartest man I knew
He used to write me letters
From prison about what books
To read and about white folks
And growing up black in this
World and I lost the letters
And he is dead so what do
I know now

Who is there now to
Tell me what happens in
Prison and why was it
Important for me to know

His friends on the streets used to
Call him Brother Bob and they would
Hang out in front of Hansen's Liquor
And drink and do drugs behind
The wall and he used to tell them
How he wouldn't share needles
And they thought he was crazy
But like I said he was the smartest
Man alive

And maybe had he lived
We would talk about the president
And politics and who I am dating
Or not I don't know

I only know I miss him like the wind
Like the first breeze and
Sometimes it's really scary
Without him

Ex

That time he started
Doing crack again and
Stole my car and I had
To pick it up from the
Snooty Fox Motel
And he thought I was wrong
For breaking up with him
Because of one mistake

Happy

When Uraeus laughs
Summer
Paid rent
My new red car

My doctor said
Last time I saw you you were happy
I said
I have happy hours not days
He said maybe we should go up on your lithium and you will be back to your old self
I said
My old self was sad too

Candles
Myrrh
Sage
A clean house
A root beer float

I said
I'm taking too many slipping pills
He said
Don't do that
But he sounded more like a stern father
Than a doctor

Long drives and loud hip hop
Grilled cheese
Merlot

He said
Do you have a plan
I said
Yes

The hot tub at The Grand Spa on 6th and Vermont

Dirty

Because there are rifle and gun and knife days when the wet of a shower is Everest and a forever climb
When covers wrapped rubix cube are a locked cage and I am a zoo animal
Not to be fed or touched or looked at the wrong way or too long
When a cry is more companion than good love

When the easy of anything is too far
When I believe the voices
The ones not my friend
The days I have to remind myself
I cannot fly
That my head will splatter like egg like lie like hate if I jump
Like there are no do overs
Like there is only right now

When the only balm is in my happy place somewhere in my secrets

Hold me then
When you see me falling
When clouds are so low my own name has been carved like splinter from my remember

Help me find simple when the nights are too heavy
When the forgive will not come
When I am hopeless and memories haunt like a horror flick

Massage this madness done spilled down my thighs in between my toes
Back up through my spine

I will find myself again
In the open of some small crack in the morning
I will see clearly
Will lily and rose myself to life again
Just wait for me there
Just love me easy
If you can