Here's a piece that I wrote in collaboration with another writer name JasLee; another fellow Black Rose. The pieces is called "Lost Glasses".
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I like to talk to my self-
image reflects a taller shadow and I call him, "Dad" -
renamed from Adam - loud silhouette and see-through throat
reverberates apple until seeds fall to stomach roots
and I ask
"Why have I fallen from this family tree?"
cursing paradise between baseball tosses
since I've learned to speak your
low pitch - lost
unable to run home without
your memory
In contemplation,
my mind wanders from the
ill-witted jive.
Blindly, I continue with
baby-steps and blurred
seeing.
Not believing the blows
that remain scarred on my back side,
Never allowing insanity to
overwhelm me.
Hanging over head, there's a village of your past time -
ruins settled on mother's tongue when she speaks your
name. Flashback
rains forward - my head sprouts landscape 1990 apartments
and green hallways strectching for miles and flickering lights -
no bulb above my head, so I keep the sun out-
executing high rises
since we cannot exist in reality - re
define blueprints with solid lines - I'm tired
of trying to connect dashes
tried to put my future self
in a closet next to the wrinkled beige shirt -
where no light could expose
our crossed lines - crossed lives -
but it always gets too hot in there
hiding from an ironed rage
but I just can't
crease my past
it's rigid.
As tears travel over
pleated eyes and
arms exhaust from
being elongated to aid me in
finding my way.
Fingers widen, increasing
the space in between.
It seems that the travels will
never cease to end.
Bending the ends to meet
with no need for U turns like magnets
I'm attracted to past
before the ball was passed to me -
wanting to know what position
he
played
when I was still
too young to move - attention un-
centered - couldn't jump ball
to keep our game going...
I lost my focus
trying to look for
you.
