POETRY: 'The Final Procrastination' by George Abraham

The Final Procrastination
By George Abraham

I remember the white linen
Coating the altar’s edge
At my 8th grade confirmation-
            He remembers black linen
            Covering the faces of Israelites
            Forcing him, a child, out of his home.
I remember the catechist’s cold stare
As she told us that confirmation made it official-
We were choosing to be Catholics.
            He remembers the intruder’s cold stare
            Infused with the hatred of Arabs,
            Especially Catholic Arabs.
I remember ashes bestowed on my forehead
In the symbol of the cross-
Those Ash Wednesday masses I was dragged to.
            He remembers ashes-
            The remnants of his once-called home
            Destroyed for the cross his family bore.

I became an academic, through and through,
After confirmation-
A devout student; an intellectual.
            He became the opposite-
            He laughed at literature
            And its attempt to portray disaster.
I grew to be a critic-
To see the flaws in our country,
And proclaim my thoughts through words-
            He grew to love America-
            The land of opportunity; for home, to him,
            Became dusk to a once sunny day.
I grew to desire escape-
To loathe repetition, and yearn for
My way out of home.
            He clung to home’s once tangible existence-
            The rubble that once was wall,
            The ash that once was a bible page.

My 12-year old vision sees him
As a loving grandfather;
A witty man who didn’t quite know English,
But made the most out of what he knew-
I could still go to ball games with him.
            My 18-year old vision sees him
            As a fallen hero;
            His limping stride, his stuttered speech,
            His head bruised from a fall-
            His wit still remained.

I’ve been plagued by the thought that I may lose him
Soon-
But he lives his daily life fearlessly;
For, he knows he will be with the angels
Soon;
Him, among the choir of heavenly souls
Cloaked in white linen.
            I will remain a sly, angry poet
            Contemplating the nature of forever-
            Not truly understanding God,
            But remaining intrigued all the while.
                        Still believing, but not living-and-breathing.

He always seeked to know God
            Where I always sat back and contemplated;
            Eventually, I may come across the day
            Where I will have my heavenly insight;
            Maybe it will be on my death bed,
            With me all cloaked in black;
            Perhaps it may be even too late
            And I’ll die never fully understanding God,
    But then again, no one TRULY understands God...

But that’s the difference between him and me-

I’ll procrastinate.
He never did.

Copyright 2013| George Abraham

BULLETIN: Congrats to Desirae Lee

Congratulations to Expressionist Desirae Lee for reaching the Top 25 of the Poetry Out Loud State Recitation Competition in Tallahassee! 

Amazing job!

POETIC PROSE: 'The Star-Studded Muse' by Jazelle Handoush

The Star-Studded Muse
By Jazelle Handoush

Stars used to always stick to her tongue and pop against her gums, but now when she licks the sugarcoated stardust from her lips, the world wants nothing more than to take a taste with a kiss. Every night she downs a cocktail of constellations, and they never taste the same. Tonight she swallows Bellatrix, savoring stars bit by bit, and hoping not to choke on the bottom dregs of the Milky Way, so thick. She’s been prescribed planets to fight the ailment of her misalignment, because sometimes being in retrograde spins her mind into an unwanted mess. And it knocks those around her out of step (a cause and effect).

She’s been diagnosed with a starry-eyed disease, caused by an overdose on the black holes that have eaten at her insides. Her constellation cocktails fill all these empty holes with stars that get sucked in, and they show against her soul. On an entire different level of gravity, she can make you feel like you’re floating and chocking. Between the sunspots in her eyes and the crescent moon in her smile, she’s a planetary mess of mental-made voids; there’s empty space among the galaxy clusters of her cognizance that make her a mystery. Undefined by astronomers, no telescope could keep her close, until one night she comes by as a comet and shows herself.

In mythology, gods shown in the stars step down to Earth to share a kiss with mere mortals. She, made of dust and fueled by constellations, shows herself in form of shadow. Wearing Saturn’s rings and a dress of space silk, upon the earth she steps, bits of ideas are left.

When she shares kisses with mere mortals, they’re in form of secrets. Inspirations sparked from the swallowed stars steal into her veins and sit at her fingertips and lips.

That peck upon the cheek you sense but never see? Her hello, solidified to start a story in your mind. The chill against your spine is meant to bring your brush upon a canvas to make it blush, or pull notes from empty air and compose a masterpiece for all to hear.

She’s been diagnosed with a starry-eyed disease, caused by an overdose of black holes that have eaten at her insides. She downs constellation cocktails to keep her sane, hiding in earth’s shadows or the space between the stars.

Aiding your inspiration is her detox, and it makes her divine.

Copyright 2013 | Jazelle Handoush

POETRY: 'The Void' by George Abraham

The Void
By George Abraham

There’s a void in me-
            Like a salty wave
               Reaching out to my feet
            But stopping inches away
               As I stand, intangible,
            And the shoreline whispers a
               Somber tale-
A void-
            Like glass cracked in subtlety
            Forming two fractures that will never
            Converge- their entire existence
            On a plane of their own, expanding
                        Forever
            Unpredictably in endless dimensions-
A void-
            A distance oceanic,
            A brilliance less than stellar;
            An unfulfilling ending to a masterpiece;
            A wanderer travelling in circles;
            A _____ of poetry missing a word;
For despite fortune’s fair and
______ steady, I live my life
with too many ______s to fill in
but not enough ______s to fill them in with;
            Will you do it?
            Will you fill them in?
Because I can’t quite put my finger on it-
Is it you, missing from my life?
Are you my void?
            Or is it more complex?
            The simplicity of impossibility?
            The dullness of vivacity?
            The tears of fire?
Or is it far simpler-
The hollow of a sphere?
The resonance of a voice?
The dissonance of an adolescent?

The unwritten last line of a poem?

Copyright 2013| George Abraham

NOT POETRY 'A Brief Word' by Robert Drake

YO Wessup Experssionists? Just stopping by to post some love, I miss you all dearly, and I want to encourage you all to keep writing and staying positive. Keep Your heads up and what not. My adventures in College has taken me across Florida with poetry as the driver. You can do great things with this art if you truly love it. Nothing is impossible. Currently I am in AmenRa bookstore, at open mic poetry. I just did Pop up poetry which is basically how we perform for Fall Fest when random poets "Pop Up" to perform from random locations. Its absolutely fantastic. I've been coming to Amen-Ra for about half a year now. And Desirae I'm so proud of you for winning the recitation competition and Im proud of everyone who competed and placed. I can't wait to see you In March. And Mr. Knight, I want some new music man!!!!!! Music Monday's still exist in this piece! Til next time Expressionists!

POETRY: 'Guacamole' by George Abraham

Guacamole
By George Abraham

I had this silly vision
Of you and I making guacamole together
One Saturday afternoon-
We’d go to the store,
Walking hand-in-hand
And people around us would think,
“Oh, what a cute couple.”
I’d run into a friend or two
And introduce you to them
As if you were my trophy-
A prized gem deemed priceless-
A higher being; the essence of everything-
My everything…

Then we’d go to my house
To make guacamole together-
You’d dice tomatoes while
I peel the avocados
And before we knew it, we’d have this
Delicate masterpiece before us…
Eventually, we’d stop and watch a movie-
Maybe something light and comedic
To balance the pouring rain outside;
We’d cuddle together on the couch
And eat our homemade guacamole,
And the whole time, I’d be so concentrated on
You that I wouldn’t even pay attention
To what was going on on-screen;
You were my light in this
World lit only by lightning;
The eye of the storm that is my life;
The lone thunderous applauds to my achievements.
You’re the epitome of everything-
My everything…

End scene.

So what now?
I never really thought about the rest-
Just the essence of us
Together.
I never dreamed of the logistics of it all-
The behind-the-scenes to our hit film…

Eventually, you and I would grow sour
Just like the guacamole,
Because that’s the sad truth about guacamole-
You have to eat it all before it rots,
But try to make the most out of it while you can…
You see, you’re my guilty pleasure-
You’re that soft, delicious Avocado
But I never realized your pit was so dark
Until I saw it myself;
You conceal it so well
Under your layers of perfection
But you’re really not a terrible person;
You’re skin and bone,
just like the rest of us;
you’re still
my everything…

I’ve always been bad at saying goodbye;
Whether it was to my grandma visiting from California,
Or a friend visiting for lunch,
But I’d have never pictured it to be like this-
I’d have never pictured myself saying goodbye to a star-
A heavenly star that will dissipate, in the long run,
Just as this vision will,
Leaving me questioning
If you were only a phase…

Copyright 2013| George Abraham

POETRY: 'A Non-Linear High School Love Story' by George Abraham

A Non- Linear High School Love Story

By George Abraham

Chapter 24:
            One word:
            “Goodbye”
Chapter 3:
            That moment when the protagonist
            Begins to realizes he’s caught in that
            Vicious cycle once more.
Chapter 2:
            It began with a hug
            On a quiet afternoon;
            One intoxicating gesture.
Chapter 10:
            This isn’t going to end well.
Chapter 4:
            The protagonist’s previous crush,
            Who is already in a committed relationship,
            Begins to re-surface like an undulating wave-
            Schlepping the surface of his intangible thoughts.
Chapter 6:
            “There’s a fire starting in my heart…”
            Oh Lord Jesus, it’s a fire…
Chapter 5:
            The protagonist resorts to
            Listening to cheesy love songs
            To ease his tension between 2 unattainable lovers.
Chapter 7:
            That awkward moment when
            The protagonist realizes that
            He’s friendzoned..
Chapter 8:
            WE ARE NEVER EVER EVER
            GONNA GET TOGETHER!
Chapter 11:
            Stagnation.
Chapter 9:
            The protagonist decides to
            Live his daily life in the friendzone,
            Too afraid of action.
Chapter 20:
            It’s graduation time.
Chapter 15:
            A psycho from the protagonist’s past
            Re-surfaces to torment the protagonist
            Because what love story doesn’t have a crazy ex?
Chapter 12:
            The protagonist sees too far into
            The actions of the beloved,
            Thus dragging him deeper
            Into this pool of despair.
Chapter 19:
            Protagonist reads a cheesy
            Spenserian sonnet that tells him
            “It is better to have loved and lost
            Than to have never loved at all.”
Chapter 21:
            There is no feeling quite like
            Walking down the graduation aisle
            With the regret of 1000 prisoners….
Chapter 13 and 14 have been purposefully omitted for the sake of the protagonist not looking like a total imbacile.
Chapter 16:
            The encounter with the protagonist’s ex
            Makes him reflect on his former life-
            What he’s become ever since.
Chapter 17:
            The protagonist decides to confide his
            Secret with a best friend, who comforts him
            For the time being.
Chapter 18:
            The protagonist realizes that everything is ephemeral
            Especially peace…
Chapter 22:
            We’ve reached the climax to the story-
            The protagonist must now decide:
            Risk telling his beloved about his love
            And risk the possibility of all future contact?
            Or remain silent and probably fall out of touch in college…
Chapter 23:
            The author realizes that
            Some endings are better left unwritten,
Chapter 1:
            One word:
            “Hello”
Chapter 25:
            The love story eventually becomes myth.
Chapter 26:
            Myth becomes motif- repetition.
Chapter 27:
            An image of the spinning earth resounds as the symbol of continuity.

Copyright 2013| George Abraham