Closed Casket

I smelled

the Roses

before

collected

bouquets

as I

go

if I

died

today

Touche…,

No

money

can convey

I am a

limited

edition

classy female beast,

grew up

on the

east side

of my b-town streets,

No

honey

sweeter

to sting

your heart

with joy

or

buzzfeed

ya

right

outta

own

front door

than

thee,

five-foot-three

shorty

holding

University degrees

living

day by day

being

the best mom

I can possibly

be

praying

one

day my

son

can live

a

better life

than

me,

avoiding

momma’s struggles,

working

quadruple doubles

or reloading

a glock from

troubles…,

One bullet,

No

name

it aims

and claims

away precious

life

in loving memories

her

name

don’t weep

or

air-mouth-sing

to my

casket…,

I was here

before

smelling

the Roses

collecting

my

bouquets

from around

the ways

Touche…,

if you

never ever

gotta

know

me

on any

of my

Living

days.

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Final Performance

Heavy hearts

flooded in

memories of

your life

dancing

back

in rewinds

playing

tunes

to

flutes

lively

were

you

feel up

on

happiness

popping

in

joy jives

things that

you love

being loved

by Us all

Now,

confined by

a white sheeted

bed

hooked up

to monitors

struggling to

breathe

as pain

shock waves

inside your veins

making it

harder

for you

to maintain

or entertain

energy

to live

yet,

we sing

wishes

for a

peaceful

transition

inside

and out

hitting the

perfect pitches

to make

you

always laugh

keeping

what we

know

of your

love and beautiful

songs

always

close

to our hearts

as we always

had

before

of you

everyday

we live…

we will

miss you…

crying

ugly blues

because

we wish

it wasn’t

YOU.

Breaking

Breaking

free

reaching outside

of my

internal

elements

to be

a better me.

Scars of tragedy

hidden deep

in

heart’s cavity.

Buried

a smile

pouring the

tears

in

years

to wrinkles

in

a rare

expression

planted

to

submerged

fighting

not to

emerge

in the

hidden

closed

me.

Urging

me

why

this

suppose

to be

a pain

whenever

to whomever

more and more

for whatever

fertilized

into

nothing

green

to burnt

brown

smothered

ill

crippling

my life

harder

to kick

a stonewall

to

break

thru

maybe

it will…

willingly

or the

crumbles

fall to

a tombstone

named

written

clearly

Its me

never was free

crippled

in my

own

insanity.

Life’mares

Cold sweats, he shooked

in and out of death,

silently whispering confession

of dark nightmares

hated

for years later

till death,

pointed a gun

in tears

to his left

lobe

erasing all fears

he let go

to leave

out of

misery…,

To

hunting me

again

he hasn’t left…

breathing the same whispers

at night,

tugging my pillow from

left to right,

hugging sheets

of repeated

whispers

hunted

sleepless

to praying

“My God Please…, take

this

PTSD away from

Me!”

Heavyweights

Storms in

my eyes

heaviness in

my heart

and silence in

my voice

to

collateral damage in

someone else’s

war

against

themselves

as knives

slices

straight

to the

point,

the same

boiling

water

softens the

potato

hardens

the egg

to break

into

shattered

pieces

of tiny

shells

bare and vulnerable

to its

yolk core,

exposed

to

even sugar

looking

like salt

until

no more.

Just a Different Day

Wiping the

eyes

from sleep,

laid down

too long

in lullabies

of nightmares,

tossing

ping-pong

wrongs

that didn’t belong

in the cranium,

displaying

dismantling

messages

in megapixels

resolution,

stepping on

arched feet

tip toeing

around the

hardships

warped by

Solutions

sweeping Tomorrow’s

away…,

Sound the Alarm

in noise!

Wake up, to

moving

with poise

facing Today,

as anyday

staying

WOKE.

Anyday except…Monday’s

Waking up to the alarm clock on Monday’s are tough,

the creator of the weekend break knew the work week was rough.

Only two-days for a weekend is really not long enough.

Working five days a week,

at boring job that is interesting or unique,

trying to survive to save money before you are too old or weak.

It does not matter if you are chasing after career goals,

or working to punch in and out the time clock to meet the payroll.

A three-day weekend should be up for vote,

or at least have an option for discussion that we all can promote.

If getting up on Monday’s is not what you seek,

than you agree

the work week needs a tremendous tweak.

To have a three-day weekend will be more than generous,

to sleep late or become more athletic or adventurous.

Just as long as Monday is not the day to start.

Tuesday will be the best day to set the work week apart.

Plus, working four days a week rather than five is very smart,

more time for anything other than Work to capture your heart.

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