The Talented Tonight
By Jazelle Handoush
The talented are out tonight
Do you see them?
They shine as stars across the well-worded community, so bright.
They're a wonder and a worry, sky-diving and streaking light against otherwise ignorant eyes.
Like moths to a nearly-familiar flame, she calls and they (without consideration) come to answer this mysterious muse, each adding to the mixed amalgamated spectrum of inspiration and dedication.
How could such soul spilled upon page go dismissed?
While their inscriptions of inspiration vary by tone and message meant, there is a constant in their attempt; they make to master poetry.
"This, is made of us," for in each pondering a piece of them erupts.
And even eons away, we hear their musings, through virtual screens and scratching mics alike.
One line at a time they illustrate our ignorance of a world we unknowingly share, of moments and memories alike.
Do you know what its like to miraculously be saved by words scribed from a knowing mind? A mind of this moment in time?
It's a disease with symptoms of world-renowned awareness, a sin upon seeing what is otherwise without:
The power only a soul can possess.
Soon this infection spreads upon skins, teasing fingertips into creating a cosmic masterpiece.
These poets, they call, unite us, and so they streak upon a celestial sphere.
Do you see them?
They shine as stars.
The talented tonight.
Copyright 2012 | Jazelle Handoush
Friday, August 24, 2012
POETRY: "Broken Desks" by ThePoeticEarth (Robert Drake)
(This is the link to the recorded version of this poem. Listen and read along. http://snd.sc/PfPHRc)
Allow me to introduce Sam,
Who cries feverently on his
Birthday in the back of Ms. Wilson's
Third grade classroom , enduring the
Insipid laughter that sound clashed
Against his earlobes , Ms. Wilson says little
Sam cries for reasons the others
Do not understand , as she removes him, effectively ridding her class of his "disturbance" but the depth of Sam's "disturbance" was far deeper than anyone could imagine , death was in Sam's tears,
Loneliness plagued his heart,
Judgement and ridicule occupied his
Thoughts , and cancer
Slowly consumed his lungs.
For his entire life, Sam has existed in a sea of tobacco, violently wheezing until his throat was sore, until his abdomen ached, until his only relief came in dreams where neither sight nor sound existed. And then there was Wendy, who's birthday was three months after Sam's who sat in the second to last desk in Sams row observing the cruelty of her classmates who were slowly and ruthlessly killing a little boy, she cried, for Sam, who had it better than she did,
at home bones break and glass shatter, bones shatter and glass breaks, for Wendy, Sam had it good, lung cancer would be her way out as her dad grabbed her by her waist and shoves his beer-tainted tongue down her throat while aggressively ripping off her hello kitty panties having his way with his little girl she cried, not for Sam, but this time for herself and for her dead mother who could not protect her from the events taking place in the bed she once slept in, she would wonder how could daddy betray her innocence as she kicked bite and screamed, daddy slaps her cheek, her screams muffled out by daddy's orgasm and bones go crack crack around the same time Sam goes cough cough his repiratory system is failing and Wendy's body and soul are ailing, he would bleed pain
Just as she'd bleed pain
He would cry death
Just as she'd cry death
He would look to the heavens and ask why?
Just as she would look into her daddies eyes and ask why?
And no answer would come.
As her daddy dressed himself
And prepared to cover his sins
In darkness
Sams lungs came to a stop,
Taken away in his sleep
Amist his dreams,
And Wendy, third eye open
Blood seeping down her cheeks
Taken away by her daddies
Devils, babies gasps are breathless...
It is Monday morning, in Ms. Wilson's
Third grade classroom. Two desks are tossed out accompanied with the words "out of sight out of mind" "and before we begin" says Ms. Wilson "Let's wish Wendy a happy birthday and for Sam to get well. now turn your books to chapter one."
CopyRight 2012 | Robert Drake
Saturday, August 18, 2012
POETRY: "Inside these Hazel Eyes" by George Abraham
Inside these Hazel Eyes
By George Abraham
“If you could change your name
to whatever you desire,
what would your new name be?”
She asks me.
And I replied, “Madame,
with all due respect,
that is such a silly question.
For this name is more than a
requiem to 2 presidents;
it’s more than just letters,
and words printed ever so
ephemerally on a small
square parchment;
this name runs deeper than
skin and bone,
and rhyme and reason,
and sense and sensibility
to me.”
She looks at me with puzzled eyes
and says, “Go on.”
I turn to her and say,
“Look inside these hazel eyes.
These are the eyes of my grandfather,
who was also named George.
These are the eyes that saw
rags turn to riches;
that saw farmland in Ramallah, Palestine
turn into suburban paradise in America.
These eyes saw my grandmother bear
3 blessed children,
only to dissipate soon after,
for these eyes belonged to a martyr;
a martyr for the cause of opportunity.
For that great voyage to America,
it killed him,
and I would be ashamed to
allow his name to
dissipate just like his eyes did.”
I pause.
“Go on,” she says.
“Look inside these hazel eyes once more.
These are the eyes of Anthony,
to whom my middle name
resides in honor.
These are the eyes that
saw his father die at a young age,
yet he was the eldest child in his family.
He was a father and brother
both in tandem
to his siblings;
the very essence of responsibility;
the proof that this world hasn’t gone mad yet;
the image that guides my success,
for he was my father.”
I pause.
“Go on,” she says
for she knows my story is not complete.
“Look into these hazel eyes
one last time.
These are the eyes
that carried a bloodline,
once proud and strong,
yet it is turning to dust.
What was once a family
of the most noble people
is becoming a generation of
greed, lust, insubordination.
People ask me why I shoot so high
in my goals, my future ambitions,
and they don’t realize that I was
raised by a bloodline of strength
that’s fading quickly.
You see, I was always told to
shoot for the stars,
not clouds.
Clouds are for dreamers,
but stars?
They’re for creators
and I am the creator of my own destiny.
I am
and will always be
George Anthony Abraham.
I hope this answered your silly question.”
Copyright 2012| George Abraham
By George Abraham
“If you could change your name
to whatever you desire,
what would your new name be?”
She asks me.
And I replied, “Madame,
with all due respect,
that is such a silly question.
For this name is more than a
requiem to 2 presidents;
it’s more than just letters,
and words printed ever so
ephemerally on a small
square parchment;
this name runs deeper than
skin and bone,
and rhyme and reason,
and sense and sensibility
to me.”
She looks at me with puzzled eyes
and says, “Go on.”
I turn to her and say,
“Look inside these hazel eyes.
These are the eyes of my grandfather,
who was also named George.
These are the eyes that saw
rags turn to riches;
that saw farmland in Ramallah, Palestine
turn into suburban paradise in America.
These eyes saw my grandmother bear
3 blessed children,
only to dissipate soon after,
for these eyes belonged to a martyr;
a martyr for the cause of opportunity.
For that great voyage to America,
it killed him,
and I would be ashamed to
allow his name to
dissipate just like his eyes did.”
I pause.
“Go on,” she says.
“Look inside these hazel eyes once more.
These are the eyes of Anthony,
to whom my middle name
resides in honor.
These are the eyes that
saw his father die at a young age,
yet he was the eldest child in his family.
He was a father and brother
both in tandem
to his siblings;
the very essence of responsibility;
the proof that this world hasn’t gone mad yet;
the image that guides my success,
for he was my father.”
I pause.
“Go on,” she says
for she knows my story is not complete.
“Look into these hazel eyes
one last time.
These are the eyes
that carried a bloodline,
once proud and strong,
yet it is turning to dust.
What was once a family
of the most noble people
is becoming a generation of
greed, lust, insubordination.
People ask me why I shoot so high
in my goals, my future ambitions,
and they don’t realize that I was
raised by a bloodline of strength
that’s fading quickly.
You see, I was always told to
shoot for the stars,
not clouds.
Clouds are for dreamers,
but stars?
They’re for creators
and I am the creator of my own destiny.
I am
and will always be
George Anthony Abraham.
I hope this answered your silly question.”
Copyright 2012| George Abraham
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Sunshine by Reggie Drake
"Aint no sunshine when she's gone,
Its not warm when she's away.
Aint no sunshine when she's gone,
She always gone too long,
Anytime, she goes away.
This is what I sung when she left me,
Like summer leaves spring in its wake,
Beginiing anew after procreating something beautiful.
It's impossible, to even quantify the immeasurable amounts of love
I showered upon her,
Like rain cascading from an endless stream.
She was that,
Young girl that always giggled and blushed,
You know,
The type that made all the dudes have a boyhood crush,
Even I,
Fell in love with the melodic symphony that ushered forth from her delicate lips,
The sheer beauty evident in her angelic countenance made me flounder and gasp,
Desperately seeking for a single syllable to articulate from my mouth.
But there was none, not even one that
I could use to accurately depict the divinity she portrayed in her gait.
To me,
She was like a god,
The false idol i worshipped with undying and unwavering devotion,
I would swim miles just to satisfy the enormous ocean of her desires.
There really was no sunshine when she was gone,
I was mesmerized, and captivated by her sensous being,
Wooed by baseless carnality,
Like a wayfarer who succumbs to the enticement of a siren,
Not knowing that while she had the grace of a mermaid,
Harboring deep within her was the soul of a witch.
She was ALWAYS gone too long,
And i never wondered why,
Refusing to look past the pleasant guise exacerbated by my indulgence,
And I thought,
"Hey, I oughta leave this young thing alone...
But aint no sunshine when shes gone,
Just darkness everyday,
Anytime she goes away."
Its amazing, how love will play tricks with your psyche, tame your soul into obedience,
And make your heart backflip,
Turning the entire human body into a circus attraction,
It starts with attraction,
But ours never grew beyond that,
We hit all the bases, even home runs,
So how did we miss the basics,
We basically discarded the emotional attachment involved in our union,
We were looking for something physical, when we should have been searching for the spiritual,
Its time to let go, may your silhouette dissapear, and dissipate into the shadows of my past.
Not only is there sunshine when your gone,
Theres only darkness when your here...
So I hope that you hear,
The words,
That I speak.
And know that you'll never make a fool outta me.
Goodbye to the yesterday we shared..
And hello, to the future I journey alone.
Away from the Angel,
That took me to Hell.
Its not warm when she's away.
Aint no sunshine when she's gone,
She always gone too long,
Anytime, she goes away.
This is what I sung when she left me,
Like summer leaves spring in its wake,
Beginiing anew after procreating something beautiful.
It's impossible, to even quantify the immeasurable amounts of love
I showered upon her,
Like rain cascading from an endless stream.
She was that,
Young girl that always giggled and blushed,
You know,
The type that made all the dudes have a boyhood crush,
Even I,
Fell in love with the melodic symphony that ushered forth from her delicate lips,
The sheer beauty evident in her angelic countenance made me flounder and gasp,
Desperately seeking for a single syllable to articulate from my mouth.
But there was none, not even one that
I could use to accurately depict the divinity she portrayed in her gait.
To me,
She was like a god,
The false idol i worshipped with undying and unwavering devotion,
I would swim miles just to satisfy the enormous ocean of her desires.
There really was no sunshine when she was gone,
I was mesmerized, and captivated by her sensous being,
Wooed by baseless carnality,
Like a wayfarer who succumbs to the enticement of a siren,
Not knowing that while she had the grace of a mermaid,
Harboring deep within her was the soul of a witch.
She was ALWAYS gone too long,
And i never wondered why,
Refusing to look past the pleasant guise exacerbated by my indulgence,
And I thought,
"Hey, I oughta leave this young thing alone...
But aint no sunshine when shes gone,
Just darkness everyday,
Anytime she goes away."
Its amazing, how love will play tricks with your psyche, tame your soul into obedience,
And make your heart backflip,
Turning the entire human body into a circus attraction,
It starts with attraction,
But ours never grew beyond that,
We hit all the bases, even home runs,
So how did we miss the basics,
We basically discarded the emotional attachment involved in our union,
We were looking for something physical, when we should have been searching for the spiritual,
Its time to let go, may your silhouette dissapear, and dissipate into the shadows of my past.
Not only is there sunshine when your gone,
Theres only darkness when your here...
So I hope that you hear,
The words,
That I speak.
And know that you'll never make a fool outta me.
Goodbye to the yesterday we shared..
And hello, to the future I journey alone.
Away from the Angel,
That took me to Hell.
Midnight Summer Dream by Reggie Drake
It's perplexing,
How we flee from the things we sometimes seek,
With naked foot as is to circumvent the phantoms of the past.
The desires that we once gave chase to suddenly dissipate from withdrawn hands,
The ephemeral limitations of human flesh thwart the advances of audacious visionaries,
Pursuing the illusive midnight summer dream,
Appeased by the pleasant guise exacerbated by supernatural comfort,
The ease of a mundane life drives us mad.
On the stroke of midnight pass,
Like vibrations of a bell,
Fashionable madmen raise their boring cry,
Forseeing what the tarot cards fortell,
For they are not paid in currency but in misery,
They are shackled behind the barriers of inhibition
They exist as does Jupiter,
The enormity of superficial pleasures is paramount
While the substance within remains nonexistsent.
But why does impediment linger,
When soul and body have no bounds.
Only he who enjoys the fruits of lifeless luxury find this mortal world enough,
To house the dormant potential we carry.
The ability to circumnavigate the winds of change,
And propel a once meaningless existence towards the manifest destiny we were ascribed,
Is what i dreamt beneath the twilight of divinity.
Its amazing,
How we are but pions to the God of the universe,
Yet we can change the world with the spirit that was instilled in us,
And with a heart that is willed enough,
Dreams deferred can blossom into fruition and cannot die, for if dreams die
Life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly
Our inner desires stmye the swelling of the soul,
A soul that is finally free from its hellish crypt.
I once thought, that if I reached for the stars they were mines to hold.
Now I know that if I reach even further,
The universe is mines to own.
To think, that I uncovered this divine wisdom while laying,
Not in a bed, hammock or tree,
But underneath the heavens,
In a Midnight Summer Dream.
How we flee from the things we sometimes seek,
With naked foot as is to circumvent the phantoms of the past.
The desires that we once gave chase to suddenly dissipate from withdrawn hands,
The ephemeral limitations of human flesh thwart the advances of audacious visionaries,
Pursuing the illusive midnight summer dream,
Appeased by the pleasant guise exacerbated by supernatural comfort,
The ease of a mundane life drives us mad.
On the stroke of midnight pass,
Like vibrations of a bell,
Fashionable madmen raise their boring cry,
Forseeing what the tarot cards fortell,
For they are not paid in currency but in misery,
They are shackled behind the barriers of inhibition
They exist as does Jupiter,
The enormity of superficial pleasures is paramount
While the substance within remains nonexistsent.
But why does impediment linger,
When soul and body have no bounds.
Only he who enjoys the fruits of lifeless luxury find this mortal world enough,
To house the dormant potential we carry.
The ability to circumnavigate the winds of change,
And propel a once meaningless existence towards the manifest destiny we were ascribed,
Is what i dreamt beneath the twilight of divinity.
Its amazing,
How we are but pions to the God of the universe,
Yet we can change the world with the spirit that was instilled in us,
And with a heart that is willed enough,
Dreams deferred can blossom into fruition and cannot die, for if dreams die
Life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly
Our inner desires stmye the swelling of the soul,
A soul that is finally free from its hellish crypt.
I once thought, that if I reached for the stars they were mines to hold.
Now I know that if I reach even further,
The universe is mines to own.
To think, that I uncovered this divine wisdom while laying,
Not in a bed, hammock or tree,
But underneath the heavens,
In a Midnight Summer Dream.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
POETRY: 'The Dreamer (Love Letter #2)' by Kabriel Moorehead
The Dreamer
By Kabriel Moorehead
The girl of his dreams haunts him nightly
Drifting in and out of his amygdala's made up memories
Always playing a major role
But never present in the final act
The curtains close every morning
Leaving a star searching for answers among his peers
Only to be reminded that the constellations share no secrets
Oh but if they did, the anecdotes they would tell
A story for the ages
Of memories drifting down the stream of consciousness
Lost
Although never forgotten
To the man who chases them in vain
A cheeky smile leaves a imprint on his mind
Like fresh tracks in the wild
It is a path to be followed
As he attempts make up ground
The dreamer takes flight
Copyright 2012| Kabriel Moorehead
By Kabriel Moorehead
The girl of his dreams haunts him nightly
Drifting in and out of his amygdala's made up memories
Always playing a major role
But never present in the final act
The curtains close every morning
Leaving a star searching for answers among his peers
Only to be reminded that the constellations share no secrets
Oh but if they did, the anecdotes they would tell
A story for the ages
Of memories drifting down the stream of consciousness
Lost
Although never forgotten
To the man who chases them in vain
A cheeky smile leaves a imprint on his mind
Like fresh tracks in the wild
It is a path to be followed
As he attempts make up ground
The dreamer takes flight
Copyright 2012| Kabriel Moorehead
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
IMAGE: "How I Got Over" by Robert Drake
 |
| (How I got Over) |
As an African American, I am
Underestimated.
As an African American Male,
I am a target.
As Rob, I am Victorious and the
Universe is mine to own...
POETRY: 'Yesterday' by Robert Drake
Today, she over a
thousand miles away
and yet I still find myself stumbling
stupidly over my
two left feet, wondering
if she'll ever come back
to me.
For you see,
this girl made my heart
take off into the high heavens
sending down love in
the form of crystal tears.
She made my feet move
to the sound of her
heartbeat even though I was
blessed with the ability to
dance.
She made wanna write little second
grade love notes that said :
"Do you like me, circle Yes or No"
Maybe so,
If she knew that I would
bring a titan to its knees
just so it would not harm her then
maybe "no" wouldn't have
been an option
I would auction off my love
if I knew she would be the inly
one bidding.
I would even marry her,
if she was here to stay,
But today, she over a
thousand miles away.
She would always be self conscious
of her own self without realizing
her beauty was in a league of its own,
and I would tell her :
"Baby do not worry about those
stretch marks, they are just God's way
of showing you that you are growing,
I love your brown skin and the way
it compliments your lovely
features, even the way
you wear your hair, in many different
forms yet each one makes
you look more gorgeous than
the last
and if the Bible could be rewritten
it would say that God kicked Lucifer
out of heaven because he did not look like
you.
Girl you are beautiful,
and by beautiful, I mean that you
are a complete blessing
wrapped in the fabric of my
deepest desires, tied with
a bow of dreams,
shipped off at lightspeed
and delivered to me by angels.
Like a thief in the night,
girl i want you to take my heart
like here...have it.
Because n distance can ever
separate two hearts that really
care.
And if velocity equals distance over time
all that really means to me is
velocity equals It doesn't matter over
it doesn't matter.
And maybe sometimes,
it Does matter.
But right now, it doesn't
Today she's over
a thousand miles away.
And even though she's not here with me,
I feel her presence wherever I go,
and tomorrow, we'll be closer
than yesterday."
CopyRight 2012 | Robert Drake
thousand miles away
and yet I still find myself stumbling
stupidly over my
two left feet, wondering
if she'll ever come back
to me.
For you see,
this girl made my heart
take off into the high heavens
sending down love in
the form of crystal tears.
She made my feet move
to the sound of her
heartbeat even though I was
blessed with the ability to
dance.
She made wanna write little second
grade love notes that said :
"Do you like me, circle Yes or No"
Maybe so,
If she knew that I would
bring a titan to its knees
just so it would not harm her then
maybe "no" wouldn't have
been an option
I would auction off my love
if I knew she would be the inly
one bidding.
I would even marry her,
if she was here to stay,
But today, she over a
thousand miles away.
She would always be self conscious
of her own self without realizing
her beauty was in a league of its own,
and I would tell her :
"Baby do not worry about those
stretch marks, they are just God's way
of showing you that you are growing,
I love your brown skin and the way
it compliments your lovely
features, even the way
you wear your hair, in many different
forms yet each one makes
you look more gorgeous than
the last
and if the Bible could be rewritten
it would say that God kicked Lucifer
out of heaven because he did not look like
you.
Girl you are beautiful,
and by beautiful, I mean that you
are a complete blessing
wrapped in the fabric of my
deepest desires, tied with
a bow of dreams,
shipped off at lightspeed
and delivered to me by angels.
Like a thief in the night,
girl i want you to take my heart
like here...have it.
Because n distance can ever
separate two hearts that really
care.
And if velocity equals distance over time
all that really means to me is
velocity equals It doesn't matter over
it doesn't matter.
And maybe sometimes,
it Does matter.
But right now, it doesn't
Today she's over
a thousand miles away.
And even though she's not here with me,
I feel her presence wherever I go,
and tomorrow, we'll be closer
than yesterday."
CopyRight 2012 | Robert Drake
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