voices

birthed 2 different days under 2 different circumstances...still trying to figure out a place for them.

(one)
poetry calls
at the strangest times

like
after midnight
with work in the morning

after too much smoke
and not enough love

creeping under doors
repeatedly smudged against
intruders and unpleasantness

for instance,
when all i want
is for the ache in my side
to go away
i find myself
forced to pick up
paper and pens
sketch out thoughts
until watercolors
drip
drop
from white blue and black
alone

i've been trying
to write all weekend
but i mistook
brown skin for metaphor and
warm hands for synonyms

sometimes
takes me a moment to realize
what all that energy
is for

searching for inspiration in
mere acquaintances
is never enough
a muse
must love you exclusively
and
my lovers
are far too conflicted

i'm considering
remodeling
breaking myself down
to have something to do
a project
a worthy hobby

building a black girl
inch by inch
a reality show
few would watch

...shutting us down is the main attraction.


(two)
halting steps taken
in the
lost-found rhythm
of a groove i last heard
when someone mistook me
for a 1/2 white girl

my heart bleeds black
roots of hair
reddened by
nevershouldhavebeen nights
nights my memory
forces into herbal hazes

i am an addict
with no drug

exile
with no homeland

simply
out of place

a lit cigarette
becomes a microcosm
of the earth's core
in my hands
yet
i am nothing more
than a lost note or two
wafting in the breeze

my presence makes for
pleasant nostalgia
but my place in the present
is more than uncertain.


(c) 2009 l.a.m.