The waves sang the same siren song that had lulled me to sleep as a child and I swore that this time I fathomed them I tasted the subtle warmth of the salt in the air And I let the openness of the water trick me into thinking I could grasp her But as the grey of dusk fell away into night the dark of the sea stopped revealing the secrets of her depths It was then that I learned the truth We never stop fearing the unknown
For The Moth That Lived and Died In My Bathroom
And his wings, folded shut in death, concealed that he had been beautiful
Sea Shanty
I wrote this on the offhanded request of a friend. She said that her OTP (One True Pairing), was sand and salt water. And I take inspiration where ever I can get it. Sea Shanty You are the salt of my earth, Said the tide to the shore. Leaving sweet nothings In pools filled with stars As the moon’s siren song Pulled them further apart. Palm trees with their heads buried in the clouds promised he’d return, You could hear it in the crashes of the waves. But every time you leave, You wear me away, The shore whispered back.
Heat
And it felt like all there ever was, was heat. 32 degrees coupled with too wet air, hot stickiness of flesh it incites hot throbbing in the tips of my fingers and the end of my toes hot sighs with hot breath as hot air lays sultry kisses on blistering necks. Hot rain hits hot pavement and sizzles And all there ever was, was heat. My paradise is now hell.
Sunkissed
The pallor of my skin mocks me. I miss the sun’s feverish kisses On my brow until its touch burns. The pain means I am loved.
Diaspora Dysphoria
Look I write something! I’m actually trying to perform this for the One World show my school has every year. I just auditioned it today, so let’s hope for the best <3 Still have to work of some of it, but most of it is here. Diaspora Dysphoria I am a child of diaspora. Last name I have no ties to, First name my mother heard on Sesame Street, Names give me no solace. My mama’s mama was a product of love soured By a nationwide obsession with race and colour: A story of a baby too brown For anyone…
Carnival Poem I
(I’m not dead). Carnival Poem I The music whips you into mania And the sweat of the masses incites to ecstasy If religion is the opiate, This is the tonic. Sweet like cascadoo, Rush of power like cocaine, Addictive like morphine. We are the vessels The street is the vein Infecting all with Wuk-up-yuh-waist-osis And free-up-yuh-self-itis. It is a chronic epidemic Where the only cure Is to succumb to the disease; More riddim, More kaiso, More tempo.
Tabanca
I have a tabanca. I miss the warmth, The sunshine, The shade of green, I miss the freedom that comes With knowing exactly where you’re going ‘Cause is there you born and raise, I miss the kiskadee song in the day And the cricket chorus at night. I miss the twelve hours of sun, I miss the sno cone, I miss the red mango. I miss the soca And the piccong, I miss St James And the way it’s Never at rest. I miss the view Of the city from Lady Young Road, I miss the renegade Poui trees that…
Art
paint splattered on walls, pavement. handprints, assprints, cover stop signs cars. but murals, graffiti, remain untouched. artists never defile art.