Daily Poetry #2
Night Madness Poem
There’s a poem in my head
Like too many cups of coffee.
A pea under twenty eiderdowns.
A sadness in my heart like stone.
A telephone. And always my
night madness that outs like bats
across this Texas sky.
I’m the crazy lady they warned you about.
The she of rumor talked about -
and worse, who talks.
It’s no secret.
I’m here. Under a circle of light.
The light always on, resisting a glass,
an easy cigar. The kind
who reels the twilight sky.
I’m a witch woman high
on tobacco and holy water.
I’m a woman delighted with her disasters.
They give me something to do.
A profession of sorts.
Keeps me industrious
and of some serviceable use.
In dreams the origami of the brain
opens like a fist, a pomegranate,
an expensive geometry.
I haven’t a clue
why I’m rumpled tonight.
Choose your weapon.
Mine - the telephone, my tongue.
Both black as a gun.
I have the magic of words,
the power to charm and kill at will.
To kill myself or to aim haphazardly.
And kill you.
All by Langston Hughes
Fall like dry leaves
From the top-less tree
Does it matter
That another leaf has fallen?
I’ve been scared and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
Snow has friz me, sun has baked me.
Looks like between ‘em
They done tried to make me
Stop laughin’, stop lovin’, stop livin’ -
But I don’t care!
I’m still here!
We have tomorrow
Bright before us
Like a flame.
A night-gone thing,
A sun-down name.
Broad arch above the road we came.
Her teeth are as white as the meat of an apple,
Her lips are like dark, ripe plums.
I love her.
Her hair is a midnight mass, a dusky aurora.
I love her.
And because her skin is the brown of an oak leaf in autumn, but a softer color,
I want to kiss her.
one of the hardest parts about decolonizing for me has been forgiving myself for ever being ashamed of where i come from, what my parents look like, speak like and have worked in order to raise me. i am still forgiving myself.
fabian romero- indigenous immigrant queer boi writer
R.I.P. The 2976 American people that lost their lives on 9/11 and R.I.P. the 48,644 Afghan and 1,690,903 Iraqi and 35000 Pakistani people that paid the ultimate price for a crime they did not commit
this is the only september 11th post I’m reblogging
and let’s not forget all the Muslims/Sikhs/Brown-looking people who have been targeted for hate-crimes/discriminations since