music break: The Blue Pages

funny story behind this music break...found it channel
surfing and stumbling upon Vh1's 'Couples Therapy'...
nice, upbeat tune that reminds me of the 80's...enjoy!

rock and roll betty haiku #7

*for brownin*

humming a Stones song.
the title? three words summing
up every morning.

rock and roll betty haiku #6

around each other
we spin, our eyes now singing
love's power ballads

chrysanthemum flare

(photo by hana haley)

even with the rain
of a thousand hours
blossoms that live upon the crisp branches
do well to take a cue
from the flush found nestled
in your curves
that bloom with no season as curfew

lavender and sunlight

*for aviva*

i imagine
that you wake up
wrapped in past dreams
and future thoughts
woven like lavender and sunlight
that greets your eyes plainly
letting them trail behind you
attentive to your laughter
that hums like a breeze traveling
along the blades of fresh grass
walk with joy
and your crown of evening silk
and eyes that dance
to match your own steps.

how twelve lines can be prison bars.

i wanted to write about this to get my mind right and get
it off my chest. it's been an irritant since last night,
and once i'm done here it will not be.

last night, i decided to share the last entry on this blog
with a group on Facebook dedicated to haikus. since i had
joined the group, i had found myself renewed and inspired
in low points with writing. i shared the haiku, which was
about Trayvon Martin and Emmett Till. i was happy with the
feedback until i got a message from someone who i'm not
going to name here that simply said:

'it's not a haiku ;-) but it is GREAT!'

a bit of backstory...this person had joined the group a
while ago, and to me at least, cherry-picked certain
haiku submissions from others to critique. he had done
so with one of mine prior to this instant, and i had to
step back a bit. this time, i felt more enraged. and to a
degree, insulted at the lack of restraint.

i am not above criticism. in fact, i welcome it. i learned
from the late and great Louis Reyes Rivera that you critique
the work, NOT the writer. and you do so in a way that can
be illuminating. i've had moments where people picked apart
my stuff in workshops to learn how that process works. here,
with this particular haiku, i wasn't concerned with form. i
needed to get that emotion out. to see that statement, in
writing, pissed me off. it's not because i'm overly sensitive.
i just don't see the point in making a comment like that. it
reeks of a lack of grace, something which i wouldn't expect
from anyone within that group. and knowing who it was about,
and even sensing that you'd still make that statement? it
made him a bit of a fool in my eyes, and maybe a bit pompous
because i also learned from Louis that you learn the rules
of writing to break them. and he taught me and many others well.
he also instilled in me compassion for the writer's work at
ALL times.

am i making a big deal of this? perhaps. but i look at every
word i write as precious, and i take care to denote them as
such from haikus to short stories to full poems. especially
if they are imbued with a meaning that i know will touch
everyone. and to have a response like that, in public goes
beyond calling attention to the form because it's such a
hurtful issue. for me and many others. i wanted to curse him
out. i wanted to pretty much defame him from pillar to post.
i instead, chose to leave the group. it wasn't an easy decision,
but i did so because i did not want to mar the group with an
outburst of anger and i also didn't want to write with violence
over such an issue towards one who at the least was careless
in his actions. i also didn't want to disrespect all of the
fine folk who are a part of that group with such a display.
i'll save my ammo for bigger castles. and i will still write
haikus, and study the art form. but i will not place the form
on a pedestal over the purpose or the cause of the form. i'm
free enough not to be chained like that.

thank you for bearing with me on all that.

two black boys haiku

'you think that's crazy?',
Emmitt said to Trayvon. 'all
i did was whistle.'

titles available from 108 Press!!

hello folks, just a brief pause for the cause...
if you like reading my work(and i'm thankful for
those who do), please check out my two releases,
'lovestoned' and 'wife of the heart' available now!
the link is below! support good poetry!! :)

thank you!!!

http://www.freewebstore.org/108-Press

music break: Syl Johnson

this song has been on my mind since Friday, and it's because
of the senseless death of Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Florida
and the fact that the man responsible is still free. this soul
classic is something you may recognize if you listen to the
Wu-Tang Clan who sampled this for one of their tracks. in any
event, enjoy the music.

this kind of morning

there is a time
when the morning
wears your scent like a silken scarf
and gold knits itself into light
that narrows the eyes until you come into view
the streets grow and shift like grains of sand
a breeze from the west
touches like a shy hand
this kind of morning
is one that sees me
awake in your heart
enough so that the gleam in your eyes
broaden like your smile
and give an evergreen robe
to the sea

for the brothers on the corner haiku #6

Arizona Iced Teas,
and candy are now triggers
for death; ask Trayvon.

haiku 3.14.12

like rarified air
you take me in bit by bit
your gasps matching clouds

from the archives: subtle emeralds

one can only ask
as they lock eyes with your own
if your have summer in your heart
or if you've ever made emeralds angry
because your stare
posesses more shine than they do.

11.11.08

postcard from a dream called us

these words now
are postcards from a dream called us
silent minutes envelop them
sealed with fresh and new sunlight
that shimmers with flecks of crystal
taken from your laughter
let the letters
written with care
and hands that cup distance
wishing it were your figure
stain your fingers as you read
and imagine
that this dream called us
will bring the rains
announcing the season that bears your name

haiku 3.8.12

if that train was late,
would your lips still slide open
for lust in transit?

reluctant flame

night
leaves you
looking for sleep
and for the air that feeds you
builds you up
from flickering flame
to opulent inferno
matches struck without warning
in caresses laid upon your cheek
on a chilled evening
when you
a season's namesake
allowed yourself to melt

night
does not answer you easily
it waits for you
watching as you sway in thought
waiting until you grow tired
to accept your weary heart
because it enjoys your company
and the persistent burn that comes with it
there aren't many skies
that would deny your heat
even if you believe
it is better to be cold now

music break: Gotye

heard this song a couple of days ago and it hasn't
turned my ears loose yet. you may find the same
happening to you. enjoy!

lion of the winter (for louis reyes rivera)

they say
a lion in winter
is a sign of sadness.

that there will soon be an end to mornings
when he can roar and stir dust
an end to his eyes scanning jungles
concrete and sublime
a time
where his teeth become brittle like memories
that may clear the way.

but what they don't tell you
is that a lion of the winter
is still and forever a king.

the roars inlaid with youth's own gold and fire
and all things that mean power
is his own earned and shining crown
so he can put that in his pocket
and rumble low when he speaks
because you see,
his message talks loudest in the thunder.

the lion of winter
broke jazz out of jail
made bullets realize their own tears
and resuscitated souls stuck in sidewalk scars
young cubs hinged on his words
until they could form their own
and roar
and that gave him joy, you see.

don't let them tell you
the lion in winter
is a heartbreaking sight
because the end is near
and that his scattered scriptures
won't live
because each roar
each rumble he made
is the born heart of another poet
the fervent blood of another writer
and if you truly listened
and loved him

that roar
still lives
in you.