Dear,
He is old to be your grandfather
and I am old enough to be your teacher so listen closely.
if you insist on being with him.
Throw out everything you thought would be your perfect ending.
Fairy tales have no place here
So take off your sparkly princess ball gown and
lose both the glass slippers
Disney did you an injustice.
He may drape you in pretty fabric and jewels now
but he will grow tired of you.
Cold and compassionless.
Learn the heat of his touch quickly
there is not much time before you lost it.
Walk gently.
Quit your boundless skipping that solid around your used to is only a ticking bomb away from eggshell.
Memories the melody in his voice
when his Boa Constrictor silence creeps around you throat
you will notice the life lines in your hands don't curve as long as they used to
and winkles have made their home in your precious face.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
236/365 To the Other Woman 2
To the other woman,
The first time he mentioned your name,
I imagined something more impressive
than this.
In fact,
the first time he even told me you existed,
I had to think I'd be looking at someone who could even fake my stature.
Child,
I bet your frail bones creak more than the bed when he makes love to you.,
You are more wet behind the ears than he could ever get you wet in-between your legs,
and your hands are nowhere near long enough to do the job mine's do.
But when I watched your tiny hand
replace mine
in his
my sweat took on colors
and a mind of it's own.
Rush delivered itself to the places his torso would miss the most.
Like the palms of my hands.
I curved my wrist
and let Salvador slip to my fingertips
and traced the places in my room where he left his scent
to leave these concrete reminders that he had ever been there
so that I wouldn't drive myself crazy
swiping at memories like mirages.
And if you ever catch yourself
wishing your hands could get as sweaty as mine
when you feel he warm breath on the back of your neck,
I want you to pretend.
Pretend you are familiar with slow touch of a man
who can make you orgasm with just the heat in his fingertips,
a caress with a butterfly effect
setting off tidal waves miles down my spine,
Your spine slouches under a weight it is not mature enough to carry,
you wear his love like a burden
do you get tired of bending over?
Of wear make-up and skimpy clothing
to grab the attention of men thrice your age
I don't know how you long you have known him,
rest assure I know him better.
You will never know a man better than when you are first to lay beside him without touching
when the distance between your bodies is no longer measure in inches
but by the miles in his silence,
when
*Because if he could ever not want me,
then he can surely grow tired of you.
*Do you ever grow tired of bending over?
To show men your pink long
beneath the frilly tutu you never gave yourself
the time to grow out of.
The first time he mentioned your name,
I imagined something more impressive
than this.
In fact,
the first time he even told me you existed,
I had to think I'd be looking at someone who could even fake my stature.
Child,
I bet your frail bones creak more than the bed when he makes love to you.,
You are more wet behind the ears than he could ever get you wet in-between your legs,
and your hands are nowhere near long enough to do the job mine's do.
But when I watched your tiny hand
replace mine
in his
my sweat took on colors
and a mind of it's own.
Rush delivered itself to the places his torso would miss the most.
Like the palms of my hands.
I curved my wrist
and let Salvador slip to my fingertips
and traced the places in my room where he left his scent
to leave these concrete reminders that he had ever been there
so that I wouldn't drive myself crazy
swiping at memories like mirages.
And if you ever catch yourself
wishing your hands could get as sweaty as mine
when you feel he warm breath on the back of your neck,
I want you to pretend.
Pretend you are familiar with slow touch of a man
who can make you orgasm with just the heat in his fingertips,
a caress with a butterfly effect
setting off tidal waves miles down my spine,
Your spine slouches under a weight it is not mature enough to carry,
you wear his love like a burden
do you get tired of bending over?
Of wear make-up and skimpy clothing
to grab the attention of men thrice your age
I don't know how you long you have known him,
rest assure I know him better.
You will never know a man better than when you are first to lay beside him without touching
when the distance between your bodies is no longer measure in inches
but by the miles in his silence,
when
*Because if he could ever not want me,
then he can surely grow tired of you.
*Do you ever grow tired of bending over?
To show men your pink long
beneath the frilly tutu you never gave yourself
the time to grow out of.
235/365 Letters 82
Dear Kyle,
I know I don't need to apologize for the past, I know you've already forgiven me and I know it's over. I just, I'm so sorry. For dragging through my warzone and making you deal with my past for making you feel like all I wanted was to fool around for you, for making you seem like the bad guy. It was unfair. I suck for it. And so sorry but at the same time, I have to thank you. I didn't know how much it was affecting me before you. I needed you to show me the immense work that I need to know to beat my past.
With all my love,
Augustine
I know I don't need to apologize for the past, I know you've already forgiven me and I know it's over. I just, I'm so sorry. For dragging through my warzone and making you deal with my past for making you feel like all I wanted was to fool around for you, for making you seem like the bad guy. It was unfair. I suck for it. And so sorry but at the same time, I have to thank you. I didn't know how much it was affecting me before you. I needed you to show me the immense work that I need to know to beat my past.
With all my love,
Augustine
Saturday, April 23, 2011
234/365 Letters 81
Dear Cherie Amor,
you're passing is a shock. it would seem lessons hardly last as long as you expect. I was too busy struggling for the finish line that I didn't see it right beneath my feet. humans are amazing aren't we? so adverse to change that we'll hold on to pain just to avoid it.
I deserved my win tonight. I'e come a long way from the young poet I started out as. I worked hard. I deserve to be rewarded for that. no shame in that. Eve took me forever to write. I was meticulous. win well earned.
Anyhow, I broke it off with Franklin and left it off. It's not the biggest victory in the world but an important one none-the-less. I'm well on my way to learning my worth. I also gave Reggie the boot which is a pretty big battle won. I'm learning the difference between a guy's problems and mines. Remembering not to blame myself and try to fix a relationship with some dude who ain't go the goods no how ;).
I'm going to find the balance with me thanks to you.
Next lesson; kindness.
Thank you for everything. You were amazing!
~Augustine
you're passing is a shock. it would seem lessons hardly last as long as you expect. I was too busy struggling for the finish line that I didn't see it right beneath my feet. humans are amazing aren't we? so adverse to change that we'll hold on to pain just to avoid it.
I deserved my win tonight. I'e come a long way from the young poet I started out as. I worked hard. I deserve to be rewarded for that. no shame in that. Eve took me forever to write. I was meticulous. win well earned.
Anyhow, I broke it off with Franklin and left it off. It's not the biggest victory in the world but an important one none-the-less. I'm well on my way to learning my worth. I also gave Reggie the boot which is a pretty big battle won. I'm learning the difference between a guy's problems and mines. Remembering not to blame myself and try to fix a relationship with some dude who ain't go the goods no how ;).
I'm going to find the balance with me thanks to you.
Next lesson; kindness.
Thank you for everything. You were amazing!
~Augustine
233/365 Letters 80
Dear Seth,
I never gave you anything for basically saving my life. I said thank you, but that was nowhere near enough. You are so kind. I wanted to get you something but my procrastination got in the way. I so apologize. I regret that I was not able to give you something and that I will never see you again. I'm sorry if I treated the gesture as though it were smaller than it was and less than it meant to me. I have a tendency to shrug things off when they're bigger than me, when I feel inadequate.
I hope you realize how great of a thing it was that you did for me, even if my pride could not describe it. I pray karma gives you all the blessings you deserve.
Much love,
Augustine.\
I never gave you anything for basically saving my life. I said thank you, but that was nowhere near enough. You are so kind. I wanted to get you something but my procrastination got in the way. I so apologize. I regret that I was not able to give you something and that I will never see you again. I'm sorry if I treated the gesture as though it were smaller than it was and less than it meant to me. I have a tendency to shrug things off when they're bigger than me, when I feel inadequate.
I hope you realize how great of a thing it was that you did for me, even if my pride could not describe it. I pray karma gives you all the blessings you deserve.
Much love,
Augustine.\
Friday, April 22, 2011
232/365 Persona [30/30]
<3 It's still a blatant lie,
but in my own words...
To the other woman,
The first time he mentioned your name,
I imagined I'd be dealing with something a bit more impressive
than this.
In fact,
the first time
he even told me you even existed
I had to think he was talking about someone who could even fake my stature.
Child,
do your frail bones creak more than the bed when he makes love to you.
You're more wet behind the ears than he could ever get you wet between your legs
Your hands are nowhere near long enough to do the job mines do.
Sweetie....
When I witnessed your tiny hand
replace mine in his
my sweat took on colors
and a mind of it's own.
Rush delivered itself to the places his torso would miss the most.
Like the palms of my hands.
I curved my wrist and let Salvador slip to my fingertips,
trace the places of my room where he left his scent.
Left concrete evidence of his once presence there
so I wouldn't drive myself crazy swiping at memories like mirages.
Do you ever catch yourself wishing
you could get your palms to sweat as much as mine
when you feel his warm breath on the back of your neck.
I want you to pretend.
Pretend his touch excites you as much as it does me,
pretend you are familiar with a slow stroke of man
who make you orgasm with just the heat of his fingertips.
A caress with a butterfly effect,
setting off tidal waves miles down my spine.
Your spine
slouches under a weight you are not strong enough to carry,
wear his love like a burden,
do you ever grow tired of bending over.
You are in a critical stage of physical development,
you stay in that position for too long now,
and you will never grow out of it.
Just know,
my spine never curves.
but in my own words...
To the other woman,
The first time he mentioned your name,
I imagined I'd be dealing with something a bit more impressive
than this.
In fact,
the first time
he even told me you even existed
I had to think he was talking about someone who could even fake my stature.
Child,
do your frail bones creak more than the bed when he makes love to you.
You're more wet behind the ears than he could ever get you wet between your legs
Your hands are nowhere near long enough to do the job mines do.
Sweetie....
When I witnessed your tiny hand
replace mine in his
my sweat took on colors
and a mind of it's own.
Rush delivered itself to the places his torso would miss the most.
Like the palms of my hands.
I curved my wrist and let Salvador slip to my fingertips,
trace the places of my room where he left his scent.
Left concrete evidence of his once presence there
so I wouldn't drive myself crazy swiping at memories like mirages.
Do you ever catch yourself wishing
you could get your palms to sweat as much as mine
when you feel his warm breath on the back of your neck.
I want you to pretend.
Pretend his touch excites you as much as it does me,
pretend you are familiar with a slow stroke of man
who make you orgasm with just the heat of his fingertips.
A caress with a butterfly effect,
setting off tidal waves miles down my spine.
Your spine
slouches under a weight you are not strong enough to carry,
wear his love like a burden,
do you ever grow tired of bending over.
You are in a critical stage of physical development,
you stay in that position for too long now,
and you will never grow out of it.
Just know,
my spine never curves.
231/365 Eve (abandoned) [29/30]
They call me Eve
I was never given a last name
this was only first case of identity theft.
I know what you’ve heard about me.
I was carved out of the ribcage of a man
only as an after thought.
And they told you I’d look differently
But make no mistake,
they have burned down my libraries and tried their best to scorch my memory
but I remember well.
The sweetness of God’s breath on my neck when he whispered me into existence
He told me I’d be the first of this new species
There was no talk of dominion,
but he did teach me a certain harmony with Lady Gaia and told me to embody her beauty.
So I walked tall
Wide hips and extra weight to nourish the children I would carry.
And as they grew, I taught them.
Taught the young, small, weak
taught them plenty.
They came to my crown
and asked how to run their nations
Aristotle, Plato, Socrates
sucked from the supple breast of my knowledge.
Little did I know when I turned my back they’d whip slave ships into it.
and create this Bible
that blames me for the expulsion from the Garden of Eden,
There was a snake that tempted me to leave the promise land
I’m pretty sure those was your chains, guns and aggression.
So was it fruit,
or the middle passage that closed Eden’s gates.
This Bible
that tells me childbirth is a curse,
and that I am the cause.
Well I am sorry,
Sorry that I broke my back to carry your children
but if you ever dared to ask me,
I’d call you the curse
I’ve been called temptress,
but it was you who stripped me naked.
Called me bitch and made me hit my knees until I knew what forbidden fruit really tasted like,
And the abuse didn’t stop after Lincoln,
it was just heavily disguised
as the media,
tossing me a pair of booty shorts and tell me to sway my hips to the rhythm of lynched ancestors because it reminds them of a better time.
They never look me in the eyes
because they want me to forget I have them.
So that I can ignore the Planned Parenthoods huddled around my black neighborhood
With these advertisements,
that make them as appealing as Easy Bake Ovens to child Hitler.
I have been waiting for the UN to step in and label it genocide,
but I’m only met with government officials planting cocaine into my son’s body until he is addicted,
in jail or dead.
I know why they do it.
They see his image in me and fear my wrath.
They sold me as commodity
so I’d forget what I was worth,
but you should have smashed my mirrors first.
Did you think I couldn’t see,
I am the beauty of gold embodied.
Black skin as beautiful as the galaxies they stole from my libraries but NOT from my eyes.
You can keep your idealistic paintings of me
But you will never bleach my skin or straighten my hair.
Forbid the drums of my native tongue
But you will never quiet the lavish language of my dance
I will never lose my kinks,
my fight,
my fire.
Save your cat calls for those deserving
Because I do not play with rats.
You will call me Goddess
or will not address me
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
230/365 Letters 80 [28/30]
Franklin,
You're whack bra! What's the deal? You talk to me only when we're in the same room? Too bad we don't even live in the same state. It's lame, and you're whack for acting like this. Apologizing once for hurting/mistreating me doesn't give you permission to continuing hurting and mistreating me. It makes your apology, though sweet, completely worthless. Forget it!
You're whack bra! What's the deal? You talk to me only when we're in the same room? Too bad we don't even live in the same state. It's lame, and you're whack for acting like this. Apologizing once for hurting/mistreating me doesn't give you permission to continuing hurting and mistreating me. It makes your apology, though sweet, completely worthless. Forget it!
229/365 Persona Idea [27/30]
*When he says he understands what he means is that he feels it.
*I don't know how long you've known beside him without touching
*You well never know a man better than when you are made to lay beside him without touching
*Your body will never fit into his body the way mine did.
How cuddling in the park is always a strain,
I have watched you from a distance pretend as if you are enjoying his arms
*I don't know how long you've known beside him without touching
*You well never know a man better than when you are made to lay beside him without touching
*Your body will never fit into his body the way mine did.
How cuddling in the park is always a strain,
I have watched you from a distance pretend as if you are enjoying his arms
Saturday, April 16, 2011
228/365 Today's Challenge [26/30]
The riverbanks in her thighs
are cradled by a slice of watermelon sun.
Checkered tribes named her.
The ghost letters hang above her head.
She does not remember this name.
Nor can she see it through the fog.
She clings to the only life she has found on a stolen island.
She calls this life.
are cradled by a slice of watermelon sun.
Checkered tribes named her.
The ghost letters hang above her head.
She does not remember this name.
Nor can she see it through the fog.
She clings to the only life she has found on a stolen island.
She calls this life.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
227/365 Letters 79 [25/30]
Dear Alice,
Did I as you how many clubs you were managing? Oh, I didn't. Hmmm, how could I have forgotten to--OH RIGHT, cause I don't give a fuck! I have a job to do, you have a job to do, so I don't want to here it. Maybe if you spent less time answering dumbass questions nobody asked, and a little more time managing your "30 clubs", we wouldn't be wasting both our time with this conversation.
Sincerely,
Handle your shit
Did I as you how many clubs you were managing? Oh, I didn't. Hmmm, how could I have forgotten to--OH RIGHT, cause I don't give a fuck! I have a job to do, you have a job to do, so I don't want to here it. Maybe if you spent less time answering dumbass questions nobody asked, and a little more time managing your "30 clubs", we wouldn't be wasting both our time with this conversation.
Sincerely,
Handle your shit
226/365 Letters 78 [24/30]
Dear Franklin,
About this ability you think you have with "making wonderful moments"
#I'vehadbetter
About this ability you think you have with "making wonderful moments"
#I'vehadbetter
225/365 Police brutality Free-write [23/30]
By your fifteenth donut today,
Did you feel your pig belly drip over your belt,
Did you feel ashamed,
Did you think you could beat the pounds out of an innocent civilian?
Or was this just your way of exercising?
Swine,
Do you feel like more of a man,
now that you've beat another man senseless.
Do you feel like now,
You have been able to thicken the line of inequality
Between the badge and them.
See, I’m a big fan of Trevor Hall,
I sing, “I just want to melt away in all it’s grace,
Drift away to that sacred place,
Where there’s no more you and me,
No more they and we,
Just unity”
Like it’s a religion.
As do my fellow hippies,
We pump our fist into the air like it will change the world,
You pump your fist into our stomach in hopes of destroying ours.
Listen when you beat protesters face into the pavement,
Do you think it will silence the hundreds that came before them?
The millions that will come after,
Is this your way of sweeping injustice under the rug,
Do you think it will solve the problem?
Or do you like to watch the line between classes thicken,
Is that why you so often go for the Hispanics,
The Blacks?
But I know this isn’t about race.
The only difference,
I see between you and is you’re still living of the revenue you forced my ancestors to build for you
On a stolen continent.
God, you’ve got the world fooled.
Ain’t transfer of energy somethin?
You steal, kill and destroy,
Then beat others for pilfering, punching and knocking at your unjust pillar of strength.
Try to act like you don’t miss slavery.
Don’t miss the power.
Don’t miss chopping off limbs,
Separating and crippling
Families in the name of the law.
But I’ve heard epithets ricochet off your lips the same way your bullets
Ricochet through Oscar Grant’s vital organs.
Leaving his four year old daughter fatherless.
Did you liken your self to a Nazi Solider
And feel as though you were purifying the world.
Does the word “nigger”
stain your teeth like the coffee you drink daily?
Is their caffeine in the word,
Do you say it at least five times before you can kiss your daughter on the forehead.
Does the residue of the word,
Cloud her third eye until she grows up seeing the world just like you.
Do you swine,
liken justice seekers to wolves?
liken justice seekers to wolves?
Then you must have forgotten,
Wolves run in packs.
If you outrage one you outrage all.
The more you beat and kill of us the more that will come to fight,
Until the problem is solved,
Until inequality no longer exist,
Until YOU put down your weapon!
Written by Dominique Sample
Thursday, April 7, 2011
224/365 Letters 77 [22/30]
Dear Dominique,
I can no longer allow you to lay in bed complaining about how much weight is on you, how much you have to face and how incapable you are without your "support system." Without your cushy life-style. Without your mother running behind you and fixing your mistakes. Please, don't bore me.
You are making me a fraud. If you had it your way, I would have to change my name to "Stay in one Place Dreamer", "Dream but Don't Act" or "Dreams of Things Only within Her Comfort Zone", none of which sound appealing. I am BOHEMIAN meaning, I have dreams far beyond state lines, continents and seas are but a blur to me. Get with the program or I WILL leave you behind. And you don't want to miss the life I am about to lead.
With Tough Love,
Bohemian Dreamer
I can no longer allow you to lay in bed complaining about how much weight is on you, how much you have to face and how incapable you are without your "support system." Without your cushy life-style. Without your mother running behind you and fixing your mistakes. Please, don't bore me.
You are making me a fraud. If you had it your way, I would have to change my name to "Stay in one Place Dreamer", "Dream but Don't Act" or "Dreams of Things Only within Her Comfort Zone", none of which sound appealing. I am BOHEMIAN meaning, I have dreams far beyond state lines, continents and seas are but a blur to me. Get with the program or I WILL leave you behind. And you don't want to miss the life I am about to lead.
With Tough Love,
Bohemian Dreamer
223/365 [21/30]
it comes to me in waves and I think you should be aware of the impact your ripples create.
222/365 [20/30]
It seems we had two *different* motion pictures of the *same* story running through our minds and I'm stumped. Cause it appears I was stuck, steadfast on a fairytale and reality just struck so here's my bite back. Cause you keep driving me to this and then asking me to turn away, when will my resistance deter you? Why do you insist on testing my love, didn't I tell you it was unconditional? Trying to erode pure steel will not get you anywhere. You were bound to me. And not by my hands either I had no say in the matter so quit fighting me on this!!! The way I see it, and maybe I'm at an awkward angle but you seem somewhat of a coward so do what your kind does best and hide but while you do, keep in mind that I was never quite the fan of hide and seek. Didn't like the idea of someone shoving it in my face that I couldn't have something and then expecting me to chase after it anyway. Why should I, when my video games are so readily accessible? I know exactly where to find my toy bin each and every time so go about your business and mind your own cause I've got options. And I'm sorry, because you're a great guy but the way you treat me is inadequate and it almost makes me wonder why you were alloted the pleasure of knowing me in the first place. So screw it, if we were meant to be then we will be but keep my name off your tongue if we weren't.
221/365 [19/30]
I stumbled across you crying for the third time this week and you called it cathartic. As if depression was meant to be habitual. That's called chronic my love, and they have pills for that. But they wouldn't need them if you would just be honest about what's bugging you.
220/365 Letters 76 [18/30]
Dear Denver,
It would appear as though I am preparing to betray you and consequently, my heart. I love you so much. But I can’t keep running to your arms and leaving to find a shallow home in SF’s whoreish legs. I have to treat her with respect. Love her for the things she has to offer. I have to stop treating her like a four month lay over flight. I am heavily unhappy about this. No, I don’t want to leave it. Ok, I’ve made my decision I’m applying for the only job I can see myself happily working here. I’m going for it. And if I get it, I’m going to commit to my film career and a poetry career in San Francisco. No looking back.
It’s hard enough, I don’t need to hear your voice on my messages. Let’s just call it quits…it’s probably better. If I’m not returning your calls it’s because I’m not coming back, I’m closing the door…
However, if I don’t. Which a part of me is really hoping for. I’m running back to you full speed.
With ALL my love,
Dominique
It would appear as though I am preparing to betray you and consequently, my heart. I love you so much. But I can’t keep running to your arms and leaving to find a shallow home in SF’s whoreish legs. I have to treat her with respect. Love her for the things she has to offer. I have to stop treating her like a four month lay over flight. I am heavily unhappy about this. No, I don’t want to leave it. Ok, I’ve made my decision I’m applying for the only job I can see myself happily working here. I’m going for it. And if I get it, I’m going to commit to my film career and a poetry career in San Francisco. No looking back.
It’s hard enough, I don’t need to hear your voice on my messages. Let’s just call it quits…it’s probably better. If I’m not returning your calls it’s because I’m not coming back, I’m closing the door…
However, if I don’t. Which a part of me is really hoping for. I’m running back to you full speed.
With ALL my love,
Dominique
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
219/365 Letters 75 [17/30]
Dear Cherie Amor,
I have been absolutely terrible about keeping up with my pens and pencils over this break so I can’t write this directly to you. It’s just as well. I have sooo much to talk about. I wish you could have experienced this weekend directly because nothing I could ever say could adequately describe things as they were. Nevertheless, I will try.
It was much like the three days I spent balling my eyes out about “losing” Reggie (amazing how that never happened until I genuinely decided it should. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems…). The similarities did not stop at just because I spent three nights crying, but also because the support system that crawled out of the woodwork when I lost Reggie did the same.
It’s funny when you think about it. When I moved to San Francisco, I felt like I had lost it all. I felt so lost and begun to think that supportive systems were lost when I left high school. Well honestly, last night, I felt like I was right back in the green room that night I BALLED MY EYES OUT! It was that kind of community and connection and I was so grateful. Ugh, ok, ok, let me start from the beginning.
As we know, I have had intentions of making Slam Nuba this year since Ken told me I couldn’t be on it last year. I wanted it really bad. Just as bad as I wanted Reggie junior year of high school. I worked hard for it. Honestly, not as hard as I could’ve worked and I vow not to do that again. But I worked hard, I wanted it, I thought about it all the time. So when this past Friday came along and I didn’t make it…you can only imagine. A good year and a half of wanting it, a good 4 months of working toward it, at least two straight weeks of talking about it, all abolished in one night. How is that possible? Coping with that was a task. Then everyone encouraged me to go out for Mercury Café completely convinced that I would make it. No dice.
Not to mention I did a very honest piece called “Shapes”. It fully breaks down how I feel about being raped and my father leaving. It is worth it to explore further of course but it was about as honest as I could get it in that moment. There’s more, I fear there will always be more. But there will come a time when I just need to let it go. A time when I have dug up enough of my gut, torn my self open and then just need to let it heal. It won’t be perfect, it will always be a wound, always be a scar, but it doesn’t have to hurt anymore and it doesn’t have to affect me. It can be a reminder of the change I want to see in this world. With enough time, attentiveness and Neosporin, it can even be a beautiful thing. Just some more paint splattered on this canvas. Hmmm, I should definitely write that poem once I’ve gone through this wound. I am a masterpiece dark strokes simply enhance. Yin Yang. I think that poem will be my rite of passage. That poem Ayinde was talking about, speaking from the perspective of a healed woman who was abused, giving that strength to others. Goodness, I can’t wait for that day. I will get there.
In the meantime however, it did not do good things to my stomach. And Ayinde is right, I keep a fair distance from the truth of that poem on stage. I don’t know what would happen if I got any closer to it honestly. And it’s not worth it. Luc is right, that poem was for me to purge. I, being the born performer that I am, did not think there was a poem that was not for an audience. Learn something new everyday.
Sincerely,
Augustine
I have been absolutely terrible about keeping up with my pens and pencils over this break so I can’t write this directly to you. It’s just as well. I have sooo much to talk about. I wish you could have experienced this weekend directly because nothing I could ever say could adequately describe things as they were. Nevertheless, I will try.
It was much like the three days I spent balling my eyes out about “losing” Reggie (amazing how that never happened until I genuinely decided it should. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems…). The similarities did not stop at just because I spent three nights crying, but also because the support system that crawled out of the woodwork when I lost Reggie did the same.
It’s funny when you think about it. When I moved to San Francisco, I felt like I had lost it all. I felt so lost and begun to think that supportive systems were lost when I left high school. Well honestly, last night, I felt like I was right back in the green room that night I BALLED MY EYES OUT! It was that kind of community and connection and I was so grateful. Ugh, ok, ok, let me start from the beginning.
As we know, I have had intentions of making Slam Nuba this year since Ken told me I couldn’t be on it last year. I wanted it really bad. Just as bad as I wanted Reggie junior year of high school. I worked hard for it. Honestly, not as hard as I could’ve worked and I vow not to do that again. But I worked hard, I wanted it, I thought about it all the time. So when this past Friday came along and I didn’t make it…you can only imagine. A good year and a half of wanting it, a good 4 months of working toward it, at least two straight weeks of talking about it, all abolished in one night. How is that possible? Coping with that was a task. Then everyone encouraged me to go out for Mercury Café completely convinced that I would make it. No dice.
Not to mention I did a very honest piece called “Shapes”. It fully breaks down how I feel about being raped and my father leaving. It is worth it to explore further of course but it was about as honest as I could get it in that moment. There’s more, I fear there will always be more. But there will come a time when I just need to let it go. A time when I have dug up enough of my gut, torn my self open and then just need to let it heal. It won’t be perfect, it will always be a wound, always be a scar, but it doesn’t have to hurt anymore and it doesn’t have to affect me. It can be a reminder of the change I want to see in this world. With enough time, attentiveness and Neosporin, it can even be a beautiful thing. Just some more paint splattered on this canvas. Hmmm, I should definitely write that poem once I’ve gone through this wound. I am a masterpiece dark strokes simply enhance. Yin Yang. I think that poem will be my rite of passage. That poem Ayinde was talking about, speaking from the perspective of a healed woman who was abused, giving that strength to others. Goodness, I can’t wait for that day. I will get there.
In the meantime however, it did not do good things to my stomach. And Ayinde is right, I keep a fair distance from the truth of that poem on stage. I don’t know what would happen if I got any closer to it honestly. And it’s not worth it. Luc is right, that poem was for me to purge. I, being the born performer that I am, did not think there was a poem that was not for an audience. Learn something new everyday.
Sincerely,
Augustine
218/365 [16/30]
Fishies swimming upstream
with a determination that some
adults would describe as foolish.
This is beyond butterflies,
this utter flight bands
memory of being swept
off feet in a tornado
of passion.
Dance.
Prance,
like smoke bouncing off bedroom walls.
Cell phone shriek
need to hear this.
Electric shock,
without lifesaver
designated driver without the crash.
Desire.
Flash excitement.
No passion.
Thought,
phone calls,
likes you.
And now sleep.
Skip sleep.
Won't work anyway.
Brush teeth,
clean house
anything to spend energy.
with a determination that some
adults would describe as foolish.
This is beyond butterflies,
this utter flight bands
memory of being swept
off feet in a tornado
of passion.
Dance.
Prance,
like smoke bouncing off bedroom walls.
Cell phone shriek
need to hear this.
Electric shock,
without lifesaver
designated driver without the crash.
Desire.
Flash excitement.
No passion.
Thought,
phone calls,
likes you.
And now sleep.
Skip sleep.
Won't work anyway.
Brush teeth,
clean house
anything to spend energy.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
217/365 Shapes [15/30]
Ever notice that when you're looking for something,
everything becomes the exactly same color as what your looking for,
shapes morph into that item
until your looking in the same place fifteen different times
because you know you checked there,
but you don't trust yourself.
Well
unknowingly,
I was looking for my father
when I stumbled across you.
I thought you were an angel,
light bounced off your mahogany skin like a halo.
I thought you had the healing powers I’d been looking for,
Cause I’d been looking for the magical potions that could make to feel whole.
I thought if you held me,
you could erase the hands of my abuser
and replace the cradle of my transient father.
I didn’t realize, you would just end up leaving more finger-prints.
I am a walking crime scene.
Surviving rape
is like being stabbed 260 times and still living,
being drenched in gasoline and watching a pyro consider you not worth the flame.
I still have his face burned in my memories,
his beady black eyes and a blood-coated bed,
still have his handprints searing my skin.
I’ve been branded….
And I thought if I belonged to you,
I wouldn’t have to wear his stains,
and this crime scene
spotted across my skin like black light,
like a neon sign.
and people who look at me with eyes that burn like interrogation lights.
And I wish I didn’t fit the stereotype so well.
Wish they couldn’t know exactly how I walk, talk and act
just by knowing two facts about my past.
Wish they couldn’t guess which men
I were attracted to by getting a brief description of my father.
Every love poem I’ve ever written has remnants of him in it’s crevices.
Curved along the sides of pages,
whispered in the spaces between words.
I see his face so often in absence,
like an echo,
like a haunting,
like unhealed stab wounds,
like the smell of gasoline,
like remembering the face of someone who didn’t think you worthy of murder,
Who would torture you for the rest of your life without looking over their shoulder as they left you.
Who would be so clever as to abuse you between your legs where no one can see the scars,
stab you 260 times where it won’t kill you,
just render you worthless.
I had no idea this whole time I had been looking for my self worth in other people.
In you.
From a distance,
I could have sworn you had wings,
the way the light bounced off your mahogany skin like a halo
I didn’t realize I was looking at my own reflection,
I am the savior I’d been looking for.
Have you ever been looking for a pair of sunglasses that were on your head,
or told the person on your phone that you’d misplaced your phone.
What I’d been looking for,
I had all along.
I was just looking in the wrong direction.
everything becomes the exactly same color as what your looking for,
shapes morph into that item
until your looking in the same place fifteen different times
because you know you checked there,
but you don't trust yourself.
Well
unknowingly,
I was looking for my father
when I stumbled across you.
I thought you were an angel,
light bounced off your mahogany skin like a halo.
I thought you had the healing powers I’d been looking for,
Cause I’d been looking for the magical potions that could make to feel whole.
I thought if you held me,
you could erase the hands of my abuser
and replace the cradle of my transient father.
I didn’t realize, you would just end up leaving more finger-prints.
I am a walking crime scene.
Surviving rape
is like being stabbed 260 times and still living,
being drenched in gasoline and watching a pyro consider you not worth the flame.
I still have his face burned in my memories,
his beady black eyes and a blood-coated bed,
still have his handprints searing my skin.
I’ve been branded….
And I thought if I belonged to you,
I wouldn’t have to wear his stains,
and this crime scene
spotted across my skin like black light,
like a neon sign.
and people who look at me with eyes that burn like interrogation lights.
And I wish I didn’t fit the stereotype so well.
Wish they couldn’t know exactly how I walk, talk and act
just by knowing two facts about my past.
Wish they couldn’t guess which men
I were attracted to by getting a brief description of my father.
Every love poem I’ve ever written has remnants of him in it’s crevices.
Curved along the sides of pages,
whispered in the spaces between words.
I see his face so often in absence,
like an echo,
like a haunting,
like unhealed stab wounds,
like the smell of gasoline,
like remembering the face of someone who didn’t think you worthy of murder,
Who would torture you for the rest of your life without looking over their shoulder as they left you.
Who would be so clever as to abuse you between your legs where no one can see the scars,
stab you 260 times where it won’t kill you,
just render you worthless.
I had no idea this whole time I had been looking for my self worth in other people.
In you.
From a distance,
I could have sworn you had wings,
the way the light bounced off your mahogany skin like a halo
I didn’t realize I was looking at my own reflection,
I am the savior I’d been looking for.
Have you ever been looking for a pair of sunglasses that were on your head,
or told the person on your phone that you’d misplaced your phone.
What I’d been looking for,
I had all along.
I was just looking in the wrong direction.
216/365 [14/30]
Every poem I've ever written has remnants of you in it's crevices,
Curved along the sides of pages,
whispered in the spaces between words,
I see your face so much in absence,
So write in large fonts to fill up pages but that just make the nothingness in letters larger,
makes it echo,
like a haunting,
like unhealed stab wounds,
like the smell of gasoline,
like remember the face of someone who didn't think you worthy of murdering.
Who would torture you for the rest of your life without looking over their shoulder as they left you.
Curved along the sides of pages,
whispered in the spaces between words,
I see your face so much in absence,
So write in large fonts to fill up pages but that just make the nothingness in letters larger,
makes it echo,
like a haunting,
like unhealed stab wounds,
like the smell of gasoline,
like remember the face of someone who didn't think you worthy of murdering.
Who would torture you for the rest of your life without looking over their shoulder as they left you.
215/365 [13/30]
The great thing about physically abusing a woman in-between her legs
is no one can see the scar.
is no one can see the scar.
214/365 [12/30]
We don't talk about it.
We write,
recite,
then dodge.
I need to talk about it.
But I'm not blaming you.
Cause I can't muster up the courage either.
I boast about vulnerability
then step off the stage.
Dodge eyes
And hug my way out of venues so I can point to faces on YouTube videos
and claim to know people I haven't shared more than two conversations with
but shared a room with over fifteen times.
We write,
recite,
then dodge.
I need to talk about it.
But I'm not blaming you.
Cause I can't muster up the courage either.
I boast about vulnerability
then step off the stage.
Dodge eyes
And hug my way out of venues so I can point to faces on YouTube videos
and claim to know people I haven't shared more than two conversations with
but shared a room with over fifteen times.
213/365 [10/30]
Why do we characterize our relationships in the bad things that they are not,
instead of the bad things they are.
He's never beaten me
or bruised my skin.
But I can't find my self-esteem
In the bottom of the silence in his voice,
after I've whispered that I love him like a desperate plea.
I can only feel the cracks his sideway glances have started..
But he hasn't cheated on me.
He hasn't left me.
But he doesn't hold my hand anymore.
Only whispers "I love you" to my naked breasts,
only calls me beautiful when my body is pressed against his.
He runs to me,
but only when I'm laying down.
Compliments my outfit when it warrants easy access.
instead of the bad things they are.
He's never beaten me
or bruised my skin.
But I can't find my self-esteem
In the bottom of the silence in his voice,
after I've whispered that I love him like a desperate plea.
I can only feel the cracks his sideway glances have started..
But he hasn't cheated on me.
He hasn't left me.
But he doesn't hold my hand anymore.
Only whispers "I love you" to my naked breasts,
only calls me beautiful when my body is pressed against his.
He runs to me,
but only when I'm laying down.
Compliments my outfit when it warrants easy access.
212/365 [9/30]
You were probably right,
You're not my angel,
you're not my savior.
But from a distance,
I could've sworn you had wings.
Light bounced off your mahogany skin like a halo.
I thought you had healing powers.
I wanted to pat you down to find the potions I needed to feel whole.
I thought I caught a glimpse of my future in your eyes.
Thought one hug could remove the hand-prints of my abuser
and replace the hands of my transient father.
I thought they could be erased if I spent more time around you
It could erase them.
I didn't realize you would just leave more finger prints on my body,
I am a walking crime scene.
Surviving rape is like being stabbed in the chest 37 times and still living,
being drenched in gasoline
and watching a pyro consider you not worth the flame.
I still have his face searing in my memory,
his beady black eyes and a blood coated bed,
still have his hand-print incinerating my body.
I've been branded.
I thought if I belonged to you,
I wouldn't have to wear his stains.
and this crime scene around my neck like a neon sign.
And I wish I didn't fit the stereotype so well
I wish you couldn't know how I walk,
talk,
and act
just by knowing two facts about my past.
I wish you couldn't guess which men I were attracted to
by just getting a brief description of my father.
You're not my angel,
you're not my savior.
But from a distance,
I could've sworn you had wings.
Light bounced off your mahogany skin like a halo.
I thought you had healing powers.
I wanted to pat you down to find the potions I needed to feel whole.
I thought I caught a glimpse of my future in your eyes.
Thought one hug could remove the hand-prints of my abuser
and replace the hands of my transient father.
I thought they could be erased if I spent more time around you
It could erase them.
I didn't realize you would just leave more finger prints on my body,
I am a walking crime scene.
Surviving rape is like being stabbed in the chest 37 times and still living,
being drenched in gasoline
and watching a pyro consider you not worth the flame.
I still have his face searing in my memory,
his beady black eyes and a blood coated bed,
still have his hand-print incinerating my body.
I've been branded.
I thought if I belonged to you,
I wouldn't have to wear his stains.
and this crime scene around my neck like a neon sign.
And I wish I didn't fit the stereotype so well
I wish you couldn't know how I walk,
talk,
and act
just by knowing two facts about my past.
I wish you couldn't guess which men I were attracted to
by just getting a brief description of my father.
Friday, April 1, 2011
211/365 [8/30]
To the best of my knowledge,
I will always be honest with you.
{I don't always know the truth}
I will always be honest with you.
{I don't always know the truth}
209/365 [6/30]
I miss your simple sentences.
The way you can undo 10 months worth of sin
in a line.
When I miss even the negative parts of you,
it is really hard to want to stay away from you.
So in the back of my mind
where no one can see me.
I twiddle my thumbs waiting for the moment I will run back to you.
I hate this feeling of inevitability.
The way you can undo 10 months worth of sin
in a line.
When I miss even the negative parts of you,
it is really hard to want to stay away from you.
So in the back of my mind
where no one can see me.
I twiddle my thumbs waiting for the moment I will run back to you.
I hate this feeling of inevitability.
208/365 [5/30]
You
are ego
where ego should not exist.
Spit up
squish it around
call it poetry.
Snap at your own lines
then moan as if we weren't already aware of your masturbatory tendencies.(inclinations)
are ego
where ego should not exist.
Spit up
squish it around
call it poetry.
Snap at your own lines
then moan as if we weren't already aware of your masturbatory tendencies.(inclinations)
207/365 Letters 74 [3/30]
Dear Dominique,
He doesn’t want you.
That is not your fault.
Stop thinking that it is or else you are going to continue you believing it is something you can change.
Consider chasing so that this time you can get it right,
this time you can get him to stick around.
If you can get one stick around,
it’s like you’re father never left.
So you do things to make it better,
say things,
close your mouth more,
try to be softer,
prettier,
less volatile,
less awake.
But even when sleeping,
you can feel him moving away from you in his dreams.
So what did you want to do love?
Crack his head open?
You can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that.
And if he wants to leave,
let him leave….
He likes getting high more than he could ever love you.
And that’s a rap.
He doesn’t want you.
That is not your fault.
Stop thinking that it is or else you are going to continue you believing it is something you can change.
Consider chasing so that this time you can get it right,
this time you can get him to stick around.
If you can get one stick around,
it’s like you’re father never left.
So you do things to make it better,
say things,
close your mouth more,
try to be softer,
prettier,
less volatile,
less awake.
But even when sleeping,
you can feel him moving away from you in his dreams.
So what did you want to do love?
Crack his head open?
You can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that.
And if he wants to leave,
let him leave….
He likes getting high more than he could ever love you.
And that’s a rap.
206/365 Letters 73 [2/30]
Dear moment,
I see you April Fool.
The moment when I realized that he has once again
and will always
chosen weed over me.
Funny.
[How quickly we forget]
I see you April Fool.
The moment when I realized that he has once again
and will always
chosen weed over me.
Funny.
[How quickly we forget]
205/365 Letters 72 [1/30]
Dear Kyle,
Been awhile since I wrote you a letter and I didn’t even realize that until I got here. I was enjoying that time without this yearning for you. Honestly, I shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of tonight. I should have been honest with myself. Feelings like the ones I had for you DO NOT go away. They may be pushed aside, forgotten about, maybe even fade, but disappear; not a chance.
I should have had my guard up instead of thinking I was invincible. But the past couple of days of me bouncing around you like you don’t matter had me thinking I could do it no matter the circumstances. In that regard, tonight was a bit of a wake up call. Avatar started. Doing that poem with you, calling on whatever emotions I use to perform that piece the way I do, put me back where I was almost a year ago. It was hard to shake. Than being next to you, saying that line, “You touched my life like a hallelujah on the breeze. The hallelujah fades, but the breeze is all the more holy.” Which is a line I actually wrote about you a long time ago. Being with you again in Fort Collins and THEN…THEN listening Trevor Hall did it for me. I was nostalgic, and I missed you, and I wanted to be held by you, and loved by you and I just all together remembered what it was like to be apart of your life.
I’m sorry. It’s not fair of me to bring this up. I know, this isn’t the way to earn your trust, which is still one of my goals mind you, but tonight caught me off guard. I don’t know if you fully planned dropping me off first because you were afraid of what would happen but I’m really glad you did. But while we’re being honest, don’t pretend you didn’t feel it too. Don’t pretend you didn’t want to be near me as much as I wanted to be near you. Either way, I take responsibility for my part and it won’t happen again. You don’t have to believe that now. But just wait and see. For both of our sakes, it won’t happen again.
Love,
Augustine
Been awhile since I wrote you a letter and I didn’t even realize that until I got here. I was enjoying that time without this yearning for you. Honestly, I shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of tonight. I should have been honest with myself. Feelings like the ones I had for you DO NOT go away. They may be pushed aside, forgotten about, maybe even fade, but disappear; not a chance.
I should have had my guard up instead of thinking I was invincible. But the past couple of days of me bouncing around you like you don’t matter had me thinking I could do it no matter the circumstances. In that regard, tonight was a bit of a wake up call. Avatar started. Doing that poem with you, calling on whatever emotions I use to perform that piece the way I do, put me back where I was almost a year ago. It was hard to shake. Than being next to you, saying that line, “You touched my life like a hallelujah on the breeze. The hallelujah fades, but the breeze is all the more holy.” Which is a line I actually wrote about you a long time ago. Being with you again in Fort Collins and THEN…THEN listening Trevor Hall did it for me. I was nostalgic, and I missed you, and I wanted to be held by you, and loved by you and I just all together remembered what it was like to be apart of your life.
I’m sorry. It’s not fair of me to bring this up. I know, this isn’t the way to earn your trust, which is still one of my goals mind you, but tonight caught me off guard. I don’t know if you fully planned dropping me off first because you were afraid of what would happen but I’m really glad you did. But while we’re being honest, don’t pretend you didn’t feel it too. Don’t pretend you didn’t want to be near me as much as I wanted to be near you. Either way, I take responsibility for my part and it won’t happen again. You don’t have to believe that now. But just wait and see. For both of our sakes, it won’t happen again.
Love,
Augustine
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)