To the Missing Island Youths

Where have you gone?

police tape, news cameras

thousands of Facebook posts

not a word, not a trace

five lives, teens, youth

are there more of you?

more—that vanished like morning fog

look, search, question, follow-up

find nothing

what does it take to erase a person—five people

surely more than a week, a month

Where have you gone?

pouring over each clue, seek similarities

island born, under twenty-five, slight build

odd ones out, queer, creative—different

too different to connect, to alike to ignore

are you together, wherever together is

lost, but not found

you leave a space greater than you occupied

hundreds search, thousands weep

Where have you gone?

taken, stolen

escaped, free

questions without end

will you be seen again

five people,

do you rest without

those who best love you

Where have you gone?

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What Makes Me Dangerous

The response to an in-class prompt about people who are endangering the American Dream in the wake of #makeamericagreatagain . Thank you Sonnet L’Abbe for an amazing semester of poetry. Note: my mother is not a hoe–society gave her that label as a single mother, not me.

I’m so dangerous

You don’t even know

I’m in the fast lane

I’m a gay daughter of a liberated hoe

Thinking for myself

Raging against the machine

I’m a beggar of pardons

Where fuck the man is the Queen

 

 

Critical thinking has changed in my lifetime

To thinking critically

Social media feeds angry trolls

With little regard to the damage of words

Yet it is I who is dangerous

With my promotion of equality,

freedom and social justice

I’m dangerous with my dissenting voice

 

Calling bigotry and racism for what it is

Fear mongering and a refusal to accept the truth

We are one humanity but

don’t tell the right winged

Right winged. What a paradox.

Wrong winged is a more accurate term

Ideals that clip society’s wings

Making it unable to soar

Forcing antiprogress that leaves us grounded

In the very nests of hate our predecessors

Fought and died to free us from

How this generation can simultaneously revere

Someone like Lincoln or Nelson Mandela

And loathe everything they stand for

 

It’s the addiction to buzzwords and trending topics

Here I stand dangerously on the edge of unpopularity

Refusing to bend to the overwhelming hate

Throw it all on me and I’ll exchange it for truth

We are one humanity, one Earth, one universe

 

I’m dangerous because I think; thinking leads to change

Change scares people, figuratively and literally

In an age of digital currency

Money still talks, the wealthy still mock the poor

I’m dangerous, leave your tip at the door.

 

Take Me to Church

This is the best poem I have ever written to date. I was afraid to share it with the world because of how “love” is personified here. After sharing it with a very godly friend of mine, I’ve gained the courage I desire to share it. She made an insightful comment–the woman is you–this is the way you see love. 

How do you see love? Bittersweet? Passionate? Consuming? Steadfast? Tidal?



“Admit it: you have spared her nothing, not even this.
Like little planets hanging there suspended like soft stars like
cattle kneeling in earth. Crows flutter in her veins; church bells
come again in wet speech.”
The Usual Past Tense …Is Hung
Emily Carr
Bittersweet is a generous love
all at once devoted and consuming
infatuation at its best
she becomes your whole world
every detail cemented in your heart
catalogue the joyful enraptured bliss
dote on her with all your riches
negate your own self care
all other people you dismiss
while you worship her
Admit it: you have spared her nothing, not even this.
Specks of copper on porcelain
intentional chaos of a master sculptor
highlight flaws that make perfection
you trace the dots forming the picture
her skin holding constellations
the rhythm of her heart begins to spike
careful attention at the cost of all else
you and she in limbo here
in all your differences alike
contained within her universe
Like little planets hanging there suspended like soft stars like
Time is not of importance
you lose yourself in her
and she lazily devours you
tasting the soft caverns of your heart
minutes turn to hours and days
you cannot think freely of her spells
mischief is her master
freedom is her burdened yoke
grazing through dormant impassioned belles
at her pleasure you are reduced to
cattle kneeling in earth. Crows flutter in her veins; church bells
Two are one and one are two
a tangled sleepy mess
she is the bond you cannot break
love rests here within forbidden fields
discipled by her captured affections
silent and still your bodies preach
to one another’s quiet fears
to pebbled paths of discontent
to consumption of each ripened peach
her pale blue eyes whisper in your ear

come again in wet speech.

Palindrome Poem. First Attempt

What makes this a palindrome? It reads the same forwards and backwards line by line. The effect this has on the meaning and reading of each of the lines is quite remarkable. What starts out as negative and insecure becomes a positive and powerful embrace of the dissonance within myself. I love it.

They say that I’m a bit pretentious.
With my exaggerated words and lofty phrases,
I’ve been known to surprise those around me.
Precocious in etiquette
and wise beyond her years in execution.
She is my other self.
Deeply hidden, highly educated
and carefully guarded.
Behind the mask,
waiting to be discovered.
Here, I crave an intellectual romance.
I am alone.
Here, I crave an intellectual romance.
Waiting to be discovered,
behind the mask.
And carefully guarded,
deeply hidden, highly educated.
She is my other self.
And wise beyond her years in execution,
precocious in etiquette.
I’ve been known to surprise those around me.
With my exaggerated words and lofty phrases,

they say that I’m a bit pretentious.

Untitled Poem, written in church

In the shadow of the cross
are the broken and lost
the weeping and weary they come.

To the place where the Son
did what must be done
so they could forever know love.

You are the one laid on His heart
while hanging on that tree
He cried out to His Father in pain

Thinking of you the King of the Jews
looked up to the Heavens and sighed
He breathed His last breath and He died.

The enemy rejoiced
at the death of the Christ
he regaled his defeat with the grave

Jesus had promised He would return
from the tomb did He rise
to ransom they that were slaves

Listen you lost, you broken, you weary
that’s where your story starts
from before your very beginning
you were written on the Father’s heart.

Come out of the shadow
out of the darkness
come claim what’s been restored.

The debt has been paid
you’ve been set free
come here, take it, it’s yours.

Rejoice my brother, my sister, my friend
you’re now the child of the King
lift up your head, your heart and your voice

Let the praises ring!