©2017 E. R. Smith
Surviving soul seeks
in states of art to master
and plaster to self
so not to be found wanting
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Feelings of Fear
©2017 E. R. Smith
A block of ice lays the head
Bites into the brain
Crams darkness like lead
Drives one insane
Evil is this blatant insanity
Fear the power consuming
Grave the battle, calamity
Heart-felt power dooming
Icy prickles spread down spine
Just in time to catch doubt
Killing hope of life divine
Leaving bitter drought
My soul glistens when vaporized
Numb tears shed its loss
Owning a head beaten traumatized
Phantom unseen touches toss
Quiet mind down and determine
Really, is it there?
Sane is it, to house this vermin?
Tear now at angst’s snare
Unseat it from the crown
Visualize strength inside
Will Force to beat it sound
X-Gen worries easing stride
Years of prayers Mighty pound
Zen reached Love drowned sigh
Am I Wicked?
I wrote this for the bloggersmeetup; thought I’d share it here too.
Source: Am I Wicked?
Am I Wicked?
©2017 E. R. Smith
Standing before my opinionated mirror, conversing,
“You are so wicked”, Mirror announces
Cutting eyes, I warn my accessory I will not hesitate to shatter him
“You are a wicked queen”, Mirror reminds
I ponder,
Yes, I have wicked symmetry to my face
Wicked curves cut my breasts, hips, thighs causing upsets
My tummy is only a bit naughty, four out of six packs
“How wicked am I?”, I ask, fishing
“Well, I watched you engineer a coup on that young man,”
“He became minion, following an impish grin”,
“Let out fiendish wails as you assaulted him”
“Wayward strands of hair tangled his speech”
“He is enslaved.”
Parting full lips, showing even teeth, a devilish smile
“Yes”, I admit, “I am a bit vicious”
“But, that young man would concur, my wicked is good.”
Exposure My Heart
Source: Exposure My Heart
Opened much too soon to a lovely face
that erased me as soon as my utterings were done,
Opened myself to a grace
disinterested in being mine,
Skin so lovely my tongue wanted a taste
of that casing only so deep,
Next time I won’t be beguiled
by style and symmetry,
Next time I love, it will be
passionate poetry,
Exposing my soul to a stranger,
strangled my faith in the next.
By Michael Cleaves aka bronxbeyondborders
Living The Dream
Sharing my alter ego again. Hope you like it.
Source: Living The Dream
Pic courtesy of http://www.womenology.com
-Michael Cleaves
Living The Dream
Got up from the Woolworth’s lunch counter, messy with condiments;
Used prints to create a dashiki
Marched all over the southern land, sight-saw strange fruit;
created jazz
Mixed in my education, like a Benetton ad;
uplifted my community
Wore black boots, with black caps, called myself a Panther;
hypnotised a world with Black Power
Unleashed my abundant hair, called myself Beautiful;
introduced a ‘fro
Police stomped my face, sent shepards called German after me;
mainstreamed Rap
Threw my fist in the air like an Olympian, receiving gold;
started profiling
Remembering that dream hasn’t been easy, changing a klan cherished history;
Rap got gangsta’
Beaten even when one couldn’t breathe, now black lives matter;
Confused as to whether we are beginning anew, causes we forgot to remember?
Pound on My Fist
This is my pen name as they say. I was going to experiment with this site. Time isn’t always on my side. But I like the work I started here.
Source: Pound on My Fist
-Cleave Michaels
Pound on my fist
secret handshake lets me in
Man cave of marvels
dusky heroes praised within
Booths seat comedians
Some you know and those you don’t
Heated towel, sitting high on the throne
A sight in a mirror, curious prying
Grooming cuts along side, boasting and lying
Flexing jokers shout-out hilarious tales
Shop next store lifted up with the wails
Gentlemen sitting in their best starting scandals
Oh, men Gossip Good-light it up like candles
Entertainment tells the youth, one philosophy
Humming clippers- Still -make no apology
Chest puffed out, feeling manhood bloom
Clean, cream of the crop, backstage control room
Party Girls Why Do You Hate Me?
©2017 E. R. Smith
Party girls why do you hate me?
You dated early choice boys who forsook me
Always invited to the party or to club
Me? Home studying how to live above
How do I move from welfare to fairing well?
Well, I missed the parties, the boys, your circle of love
Party girls why do you hate me, I adore your pretty babies?
Stopped by every shower to shower you with a first paycheck gift
Left wondering at the ousted feeling on my skin, a bad whiff
Why do you hate me? I wondered at the choices of mates you mated!
Jealous of the choice boys you sampled in the community
Wanting to be held, but more held above other women, highly rated
I waited….a long time. Saw you all from time to time; raising families
Jealous of the love surrounding you, wandering where mine lay hiding
Graduated BS, MSEd., good job, okay looking lady seeking family
God sent him and then my dearest daughter’s love, abiding
Married black family rare and true, but I’ve done nothing to you
So, why do you hate me, when’ve I’ve only envied how God blessed you?
