Life ain't so funny when you ain't got
   that honey feeling deep inside
You had it once when you were very
    young (when you were little)
When you were close to the Source
Close to your god and your Mom
That lovely sweet ambrosia feeling
It used waft through your being
Its various colours lighting you up
   inside
Like a veritable Christmas tree
Made you feel real special, made you
   feel so alive
Made you feel that Life was
   something amazing
An incredible ride.

But that was then, and this... this is
   now
Seems almost like a lifetime ago
Like some myth or legend
Lost way in the mists of Time,
Been so long since I had that feeling,
You begin to wonder was there ever
   such a place
Did it ever really exist at all.

The World it offers you sweets and
   chocolate
Their nice but they don't last, their
   over too fast
And they only remind you of what
   you've lost
(And yea, you can eat that sugar but
   it'll only **** you brother
It ain't the same and it ain't what
   you're looking for).

Inside there's just this great big hole
That you try and fill with anything
Eating too much, drinking too much
(You don't know when to stop, and
   even then, it's never enough)
Working as well... too much! staring,
Staring at the TV (the almighty TV),
And pretending...yea, pretending your
   whole
If only they knew these smiles of
   mine, their not true
And these words, their all hollow too,
There's nothing here in me, I... I'm
   empty.

Each day is just another desert to
   cross,
Another desert to roam
Lying sprawled out on the sofa in
   front of the TV, stupified and
       zombified
You think to yourself, "there was a sweetness once, wherever did it go".

Like a drop of dew I condense—
Onto a leaf where I sojourn.
And as swiftly as that I fall
Beneath the clouds
Hand in hand with gravity
Offering zero resistance.

When the moth no longer meditates on the cloth
When the fish fails to flit when it’s caught
When the calling crickets lose the will to whip up noise
When the eagle’s eagerness is evaporated along with poise
When all of nature neglects itself, adrift on its track
You’ll know for sure those feelings aren’t coming back

I climbed to the top of a mountain
And rolled back down in a barrel of oil

I threw a plastic bottle in the ocean
Just to see what would happen

I visited the tropics, both of them
And littered in each one

I am the creator of worlds
And I am the destroyer

Don't change
the pe(r)son
I s(e)e
in good (m)(a)tters
and bad
s(i)tuatio(n)s

I sit with my afro, tall and round like the trees
I sit with my afro between my mother's knees
And I cry.
She thinks it's because she pulled my hair
I let her feel guilty but really that's not fair
Because it's you.
So as my mother glides the comb through my onyx curls
Your web of lies begins to unfurl
And all at once you were my world
But now you're nothing.
My mother's hands twist my hair into braids
Partings in more ways than one have been made
Memories like my brother's fade
But not for you.
Yours are stronger than my mother's hands
Yet as soft as my Indian strands
And how I wish I could get the clippers and shave
my head and watch my memories of you fall away
But I can't.

So as my mother braids my hair down my back
I remember you and try to forget the fact
That you ran your hands through this Raven hair
Shielded my now tear streaked face from the frozen air
Forget that you loved the coarse strands
As much as the Indian; soft in your hands
So I lock away these memories with each braid
And try to prove to myself that I'm more afraid
Of losing my afro than losing you.


I tell myself that it's my mother pulling that makes me cry
But you and I,
Know that's not true.

I pop a pomegranate seed.
It bleeds,
Delicate fuchsia delight,
Mineral scented, warm, bright,
Full of nectar and promise
(now wasted)

I pop another one,
In a soft cove on my arm-
A slight dip between two veins -
And watch the blushing drop
Edge closer to my elbow. Stop.

A third time,
With the fury of fear
Tiptoeing listlessly in my mind,
Like raindrops on a rooftop.  
It is sweet, and ******,
A waste of time but an act of god
Nonetheless.

I crave the sound and texture of it,
So a fourth time comes around.
By now, the citrus is overpowering
But I keep going,
For the sake of purity,
For the sake of the shock of vibrance
On deathly pale skin.
  
When my arm is covered in juice,
I give up.
There's no sense in envying the wasted.

Scarlet sticks.

And just like coffee.
Let your aroma tingle and stimulate the smiles of those around.
The best source of touch
Without cream or sugar.
Stir the organic presentation that brings the next minute that much closer.
Whether the preference is a mug or a styrofoam cup.
Remember,
At the end of the day.
Coffee fits into any size container
And brings to life any size smile.
With one quick sip
The senses awake to a new day.
Swirled in unspoken travel sized rule.
It follows,
The beautiful ovation that rushes once poured.
Beautifully represented by your smile.
The tone of your skin.
Your hair naturally at ease.
Stirred by a finger.
Specialism by the majority nodding away,
Yet awaken by your essence.
Soon extracted and brought to life.
Swirling beyond content.
And just like coffee,
I look forward to a cup of you