Poetic Confusion

Once again I scribble with pen

To make sense of our dysfunctional relationship.

You come and go at a whim

I thought this act finally ended.

You say I left?

Not true!

I have always needed you to guide me home.

Yes, sometimes I ignore your plea to feed the hunger of words unknown.

Today you chill my bones,

Warm up my tongue

To speak so I may be found.

But the doors of my car where I hear you in this song

Lock

Jam

Stick

It is so cold outside.

You whisper for me to stay.

I wonder if you mean it.

The windows fog as I realize I am in a precarious position--

Poetry, just kiss me.

Days Past

(This was written quite awhile ago. I revised a few lines.)

He slowly kissed her perked lips

As his hungry hand climbed up her thigh

Lustful moans for her and

Pleas not to be returned to reality

Were released from his chest.

Hovering between temptation and actuality,

She watched as the clock’s hands turned

The sun began its descent, her desire for his

Delicious lips increased

Time’s limit pushed farther back.

If only the hourglass would cease to sift and

We remained in this moment of melody—

He sang in her ear as his passion grabbed her close,

Heat overtaking her entirety like the wail of Coltrane’s sax.

Soon after they departed, hearts filled with lost time

Unable to live life truly relaxed

Since exposed to his musical mixture of blues and jazz,

She spent days between then and now to build

Immunity to his harmony

Riding her mind of his symphony

Until he stepped on stage again

This time exposed to his songs

Daily.

One day after work she invited him up to her place,

Together they shared thoughts about music, politics, and race

He stretched his arm across the couch nervously contemplating his endeavor

Abruptly jumping up

Unaware of how to

Slow down the pulse moving like danger.

She touched his skin, he slowly moved in

This just can’t end, she breathed in him.

Three days pass.

Their conversation went as smooth as Roy Ayers’ voice,

So her hopeful heart naïve to unexpected sores

Shared her magnetism to their fever,

To the tranquility of his being.

Silence loomed

Until he released a sigh of disillusionment:

I can’t…Her and I have a history and…

Words penetrate painfully

Causing the stage she had designed

The light inside her eye to

Vanish

Leaving only the desirous wails of the horn section

Echoing throughout the tunnel of

Love’s whirlwind swept her up

Dropped her outside the Friday night venue

To find a ticket in

To find a ticket in

She still has yet to find a ticket in

Sadness

Evaporates from her lips

As she sits listening

To little droplets carrying rhythm—

Rhythm that orchestrates her heart

To beat at unaccustomed paces

Rhythm that makes Cupid’s strums of

Melodic marriage understood

Rhythm that makes truth believable

Rhythm that conquers the hourglass

Rhythm that hibernates in her bones

In her thoughts

In her soul

She cannot stop feeling the rhythm

Wishing it was close like those days past.

The Consequence of Unrequited Love

I dreamt of you the other day.

Now I can’t rid my mind’s eye of your face.

It’s not that you were the one who got away.

You are the one who chose not to stay.

A lifetime later you still remain

Deep in my heart, the memories don’t seem to fade.

Sorrowful tears trigger my shame

Of a past when my soul lost its way.

Then I remember the love that was made,

And I wonder how you have aged.

And if we met, would things be the same?

These imaginary moments float away
As events of married life and children distract my brain.

It's odd how we have walked parallel lives.
Do you remember how our coincidental encounters
Became more purposeful over time?
Once acquaintances, then friends, then lovers
Was our end always your endeavor?

Answer me!
This is my last plea
For help out of Wonderment
Where the ache of letting go diminishes quickly,
Where I can reclaim my dignity.

Here again, I see you in the flesh.

This connection never ceases to end.

The echo of loss rumbles through my chest.

Spinning my psyche into unrest.

My questions of the past are muted.

It takes days to recover from this disturbance.

Had I known the consequence of unrequited love...

Giant's Hands (2003)

"The one person who will never leave us

Whom we will never lose is ourselves."*

These words of my muse breeze the tip of my bottom lip

As I anxiously search for my scattered regrets

Slashed out by a giant's hands
No one can know of these secret plans
But the giant does not heed my plea for sympathy

No, he took Cupid's arrow bent it over his knee
Glared in delight at the serrated edge and stabbed consistently
His eyes rolled back
And his toes curled up in ecstasy
Stealing my security

"The one person who will never leave us
Whom we will never lose is ourselves."

I could have run away like so many other days
When I refused to face life
But this time, I took the knife from his clutched hand
And split apart my strife
Put an end to all the misery
Of what others say is to be
Finally I can breathe
And the giant has empathy
Yea, he feels for me

Gives me back my regrets
Gives me back my regrets
Gives me back my regrets

On the condition that I will never forget:
"The one person who will never leave us
Whom we will never lose is ourself."
*bell hooks (2002) Communion: The Female Search for Love

Walk Into the Sunlight

The sky is falling

She loudly proclaims

Everyone listens

And runs away

Faces hide afraid of the sky

Debris might harm us

“Don’t go outside,”

She warns, “Don’t go outside”

Nothing changes

Still is the night

People begin to creep into daylight

Letting go of their initial fright

A breath of fresh air does everyone right

This woman returns with her frantic voice

Pounding on doors with a forceful might

Warning the city dwellers of

The rising tide

“The water won’t recede this time,

So run and hide.

Run and hide.”

When asked why her warnings never come true

She sits there crying distorting her view

Of the glorious sunrise coloring the moon

Some walk away, others join her mood.

But this community never feels true.

If only she believed in her own life

She might release her bags

And walk into the sunlight.

Walk into the sunlight, my sad friend

Walk into the sunlight

And begin again

Happiness in the Present

Fiction is tantalizing
My senses
As I recount a past
Misdirected.
Genre of fantasy,
Romance, drama
As if I walk between
The pages of a contemporary
Bronte novel.
It is natural
To rewrite history
In the silent solitude
Of one's day
As children nap
And the trees outside tap
On the window pane.
It is in the glee
Of playful children
I return to happiness
In the present.

Lunch Duty

(I wrote this my second year of teaching, ten years ago. I was teaching in a large urban high school at the time MCAS, the Massachusetts state test, became high-stakes. As I work with undergraduates interested in becoming teachers, I am reminded of my energy and desire to improve the system. With the recent rhetoric regarding teachers' incompetence and the need for more rigorous accountability, I am reminded of this poem and a few others I wrote during this time as a new teacher. I still think it is applicable today as teachers and students are demanded to conform to the status quo. While students deserve good schools, teachers deserve the opportunity to provide this good school. If teachers lack control over their situation and are denied the support to improve themselves and their classrooms, then their morale and their engagement will continue to decline, thus perpetuating low student engagement, performance, and achievement. I view myself as a professional who worked diligently to become a better teacher for the benefit of my students. I consider myself a fairly successful and effective teacher, but I had to spend much time combating the suffocating high-stakes culture.)

As I stand on sore, achy feet
On mud colored carpet, enclosed
By yellow walls
Of high school students conversing and
Stuffing all the starch provided
By the school
Down their long, thin, thick, bony necks,
I sometimes catch the
Unpleasant glimpse of a young girl
Gaunt, looking at the caloric count
Of a diet soda, while chatting with friends
Who sit in subtle discomfort.

As I look upon the faces of youth,
I begin to miss my once idealistic state of mind
When life seemed tough,
But I had time to define a way out.

Faded eyes is not what I intended to find
As I stand here listening
To young men abuse young women and
The women laugh in frozen submission
To their place in the circle.
Some slap him. Others screech obscenities.
The young men laugh in frozen submission
To their place in the circle.

Unfulfilled eyes is not what I intended to find
Attempting to entertain students with state
Mandated writing as yawns of bored conformity
Create uncertainty of the possibility
That I have little idea how to manipulate
The system to entertain gracefully and
Remain favorable in the eyes of the State.

I begin to miss my idealistic reactions to
Infractions on humankind. Water
Embraces my right eye as I peruse
The area making sure all follow the cardinal,
Cafeteria rule:
Four bodies to a table
And
Throw out your trash.

Test Scores: Plain and Simple

"When I die, I want my standardized test score,
Every one of them, carved into my gravestone."

"When I retire from teaching, I want my students to
Remember me as the teacher who increased their test scores."

"I am looking forward to the time my children become
School-age, so they will be exposed to high-stakes tests.
It will show them whether they will be a have or a have not."

"Who am I? I am the 75th percentile."

While assessing performance is a necessary part
Of determining progress,
A single "one fits all" assessment is incapable of
Capturing the intellectual growth of a person.

While accountability may be necessary when
Holding a large government institution in charge
Of serving the nation's children,
One person cannot be solely responsible
For its success or failure.
This is truly irresponsible.

We, as a nation, inadequately support the development
Of thoughtful citizens when we apply narrow-minded agendas;
Ironically, we perpetuate the mis-education of millions of students
And their teachers,
All in the name of accountability.

Accountable to whom?
Accountability to what?
Turning a complex context like teaching
And learning into a simple formula
Is counter-intuitive.
Plain
and
Simple.

Love Crawlers

You left me standing in the road
No where left to go
So I roamed,
I roamed
Clutching the remnants of my soul.

I left you quiet on the phone
No one to speak to for years after
So you moved on
Moved on,
Like usual
To experience a new heart exchange
Only to find yourself searching once again.

Through poetics, we attempt communication as
Symbols and metaphors bridge
Our imaginations
While never revealing the muse.

Carpe Diem believer no more,
For my reflections are caught in recurrence,
Whirling around and around.
The wind is fierce
So I fall down and crawl
Underneath the flying debris
In between the lines on each stanza I read.

Cancer Steals

Cancer steals. It is a vicious thief,

Without any remorse.

It strives ferociously for immortality,

To replace life-blood with itself.

Cancer steals. It is a misanthrope,

Uncaring and egotistical.

Detesting  humanity,

Hijacking people’s identity.

Cancer steals. It is Darwinian,

Survival of the fittest,

A sore loser,

Never playing fair.

Evolving faster than medical imagination.

Cancer steals. It blindfolded

My father. It turned my family

Into desperate, feeble witnesses.

Leaving me with the haunting realization:

I could become one of its random victims.

I want cancer to steal my anger,

But it has been cremated.

I want cancer to steal my sadness,

But it has been buried.

If only I understood all that cancer has stolen,

Then maybe I could take life back.

Unknown

It is quiet on the moon
Footprints never fade
The crisp blue of the Earth in view
Momentary awe
Life at a distance

No air
Just dust
Surrounded by stars
Darkness amidst its glow

Beauty
Overcomes the intellect
Meaning unbound

For an instance
I am a rocket ship
For an instance
Experience is redefined

Hidden

The words are hidden beneath my tongue

Warm and comfortable

Afraid yet secure

I cough

I spit

I yell

Only repetitions of the same words are released

While new, more accurate, more mature words are squirreled away

I know this because my tongue feels heavy with thought

Yet, in the mirror I see nothing but the same pink, average tongue

I try to swallow these words in hope the stomach acid will shock them

Force them to jump out of my mouth

So I know I have discovered new meaning

Is not life about the constant discovery of meaning?

Why then do these words lay dormant?

Forever Becomes the Past

Forever seemed so long ago
And now it is at the door
Knocking loudly
Making a ruckus
Because I refuse to welcome it home

A child no more
I must accept the facts
My relationships have not been
What I envisioned in my past

Forever is now present
Kicking at the door
If I let it in, like the drifting snow
It will melt into the past
Returning as my children's
Forever
Will they feel satisfied with
Their past?

Erasing and Rebuilding

Erasing masks leaves faces exposed
Lips moving tell stories untold.

Ignoring the gut
The heart opened up
Longing for the visage to be true.

The pencil stencils emotions in the mind
Uncloaking the disguises.

Erasing faces
Erasing egos
Erasing title of scapegoat
Or fair-weather friend.
Redrawing relationships
With reflections of love and acceptance.
The architect of friendship is finished with her demolition.
Let the new ground-breaking begin.

Apology Flowers Fade

Beauty arranged professionally
Purchased with remorse
Up and down days settle
Until the petals detach

You stumble through the door
With an explanation on your lips
I turn and look at the dying petals
And wonder

Apology flowers fade
Like your promises
To understand

The Motion of E

Emotion: the motion of "E"
What is "e"?
What is in motion?
Lately it is the rapid misfiring of synapses causing
sadness to drench my cheeks,
jealousy to shackle me to self-pity,
anger to burn my skin from the inside out.

Laughter's tickle is too gentle these days
At times it tugs at my pant leg.
Shadowed by melanchol"E"
I do not appreciate the moment.
In the night's silence, I lay down in a bed of regret.

The motion of feelings swirl around
Ravaging stability.
"E" is a paradox
With determination to live in positivity.
To accomplish such a life
I delve deep into the stacks of other's ideas, suggestions, perceptions.

I am not lost I have realized
I just have an inconsistent grasp of the wheel,
So the motion of "E" moves fast, slow, stalls, crashes.
Frustration is loud,
Pedestrians feel the thump as me and "E" drive by.
It is rare these days that someone asks for a ride.
Who can blame them,
The vibe of "E" is discomforting.

So emotion can be defined as the motion of "E".
"E" is abstract
I have come to believe,
Which allows for change in motion and gravity.
While tragedy may have put my "E" in a frenzy,
Effort and time, I am certain, will convert its energy.

Tragedy's Thievery

Walking on tiptoes
Balancing on the beam
Tragedy rumbles below
Such a prediction is unseen.

Moving left to right like a pendulum
Diligent in staying upright
A somersault here
A back flip there
Hoping to avoid the aftershock:
But the flashbacks still come.

My mind's eye is open
Then it is closed
Blinking rapidly as if in REM sleep
At times stuck in between:
These night terrors must cease.

Tragedy shook my beam
Landing hard
I seem to not remember my routine.

Dreams shaken and stirred
Unsweetened and tart
No amount of liquid can induce
A new route back.
I am unsure if I know how to climb back up?
To discover my rhythm
My dance, my song?

Tragedy is the culprit
But what recourse do I have?
This is a solo mission,
No one knows
No one understands.
The journey lies deep within
Not even I can conceive
Of an end to tragedy's thievery.

Eyes are Fortune Tellers

Eyes are fortune tellers
Can you read mine?
I always avoid yours
But not this time.
What I see is sweet simplicity,
But the stars do not align,
Prohibiting me from my moment of sublime.
Oh, how I get lost in those eyes.
It takes me days to erase this reading from my mind.

Remembrances

Remembrances of the past

Fade and disappear

Some remain so bright

They could have happened today

But when they no longer occur

Something has seriously changed

No step will 

Ever 

Be 

The same.

Existence altered

What does this mean?

Carpe Diem or isolation

Are these what remain,

As the only means to continue

Onward while wrestling pain?

To continue onward

While wrestling pain.

Oh, remembrances of the past

Fade and disappear

But some remain so bright

That I am able to hear

I am able to hear.

Haze

The  sun will come out again someday

Erasing the haze;

For now we’ll just have to endure the pain

Of losing out on memories.

It’s a shame the nature of existence,

We are circling the maze

Weaving in and out until we embrace

Moments and days,

People and life,

In a new way.

Burning through the clouds  

The sun forces a chance

To illuminate our minds.

Ah yes, the sun will come out again someday.

The wind delivers this truth,

And we continue to live even when caught in the haze.