By Arcassin Burnham


Silly girl,
Silly girl,
Silly girl,

Oh silly girl,
Could you,
Spare me the details,
I,
Been wanting to see you,
And,
See to that we prevail,

Oh silly girl,
There was,
Something about you,
And,
I can admit that and,
We could see all this through to the end of the road of
Existing and living through these situations like we've
Never wanted paradise to fall right out of the sky and
Carry us up  there seeing us as human beings that make
Mistakes and was intended to die like it was written,

Silly girl,
Silly girl,
Silly girl,

Oh silly girl,
I'm use to,
Loving in many ways and,
Giving my heart away for,
People that try again so,

Oh silly girl,
I see you,
All that you are, I support,
You and all the decisions you've made,
Covered in sin for in a blood sport babe.

all effortlessly
flowing out
of me,
when I
let go

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied.  It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

From The Complete Poems 1927-1979 by Elizabeth Bishop, published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Inc. Copyright © 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel.

It's all real
It's no spoof
Hence why I call it the truth

I spit heart
I spit mic sound
I'm real deep
I'm profound

Just learn how to get down

I feel the people's life
From the fiber down
I'm going for the crown
Never backing down

If you saw me in the street today,
You wouldn't recognize me.
You'd see a woman whole,
A woman independent, harder.

If you walked down my street today,
I don't think that I'd know you.
I wouldn't see the boy I knew
From back when we would study.

When we studied happy endings,
I'd forgotten it was practice.
I forgot that we'd be young for years
And how we both were growing.

We learned a lot those days,
When we both grappled with rejection;
How to handle hurt and hate
And falling out of puppy love.

The girl I was thought that was it,
As silly as I was in school.
Remember what we said?
How we would move out in the snow?

It's funny, really, nowadays,
And look at us, both happy!
I never thought in high school
That we hadn't met our matches.

We were practicing for them,
And I just didn't realize at the time.
I think we practiced well back then,
I think we make them happy.

I dreamed of us again.
The table you set down, the candles you lit, that silly little frown, when you said not to spit.

I dreamed of us again.
The  music in the air, the scent of bulalo, how I played with your hair, "welcome home mahal ko."

I dreamed of us again.
The scent of you lingers,
Your skin soft and fair,
With a brush of my fingers,
I swear that you're there.

I dreamed of us again.
With your eyes shining bright,
As we look upon stars,
I remember our fights,
As love turned into wars.