Heart Attack

Slow motion, fast heart,
Palpitations of a broken heart.
I've got broken fragments of my heart scattered across my pillow,
I call to them every night.
As night falls is where my peace comes
For with peace I find God when there's no one.
Slow motion, fast heart,
My heart bleeds for my dreams that have yet to find escape,
Putting pen to pad
Fingers to type,
Visions to inscribe
Hearts to ignite.
Whose says I can't be that one?
Breaking past the opinions of that "someone"
People putting hopes on pause because of that "someone"
Black and white lives lost because "someone" said they'd be no one...
So dumb.
My song is tied in the heart of my mother, grandmother, great-grandmothers
Who prayed as slaves, bodies in unmarked graves,
That song that stifles in my chest,
Burns like the heated fire that I lose sleep over,
No contest.
That same song is the same one that aids my heart to beat over and over,
Still I,
put in on the desk,
Put it aside; punch in my 9 to 5
No late nights, my body needs rest.
Distractions, dramas,
Slow motion, fast heart
Looking up, wondering when's my life gonna start?
But I'll start now
Because they're no time like the present time,
Older but not dead,
Sleep, now I'm awake
My example is at stake.
Trinity's sleeping in her bed
Mommy's up, knocking at that dream bed
Late nights, early mornings
Because forever God speaks to me
Slow motion, fast heart,
Rewind, press Start.

The musings of my heart are beating at a highly irregular beat.
A heart murmur out of the ordinary, can hardly stay in my seat.
That 80 beats per minute guideline
Is undefined in my time,
My heart is racing when it's at rest
Muscles tight, heavy chest.
And then sometimes it's slower than usual
Never want to be too quick to go
Away from the source
That has replaced my fear of failing
For the hunger of sailing
To the top of my potential
Pen to paper is essential.
But my pen is no longer a necessity
I trade it for the typing of my keypad,
stroking so rapidly
Carpel-tunnel in the making.
My hands do the talking for me,
It's seems this is the gift that so burns in me,
Churning in me,
Awaiting the harvest after planting season me,
My hands do the beating for me
Explains why my heartbeat is beating rapidly.
Hand to heart, heart to hand.
God to man,
Here I am.

Maybe

So, what if I'm wrong this time?
Like,
I needed to apologize about the way I acted,
How I overreacted,
My statements,
I'd retract it.
Rewind time so that I'd get back that
time we lost fighting, arguing,
silent treatments, tension.
Stubborn me,
Let my insecurities get the best of me,
Lost the best of me,
You saw the worst of me,
All 360 degrees of me,
Now I'm wondering if you'll leave.
So maybe I'll apologize tomorrow...

Or maybe I'll let my pride ride,
And fight to have someone fight for me for a change
And make change
3 dollars, 6 dimes
I had 4 dollars in my pocket,
where's that 40 cents?
This doesn't make sense
I thought when I changed,
Things would change
Thought I'd get my heaven-sent.
I know heaven makes sense
But these bills don't add up
Gave my dollar, got pennies back.
Pockets get heavy when you carry change
There's that word again:
Change.
Maybe I'll re-title this poem
And call it pain.

Esoteric

I think of my sister sometimes,
When my mother mentions her name,
during birthdays or holidays,
When i see sisters
Doing sister-like things
Like young sisters dressing alike
Or older sisters debating who's wrong or right
I wonder what my sister would look like
Me, I suppose
I guess,
She'd be my opposite,
My contradiction to the ninth degree
Brown-skinned, a rebel, loves math,
So far from the me I see
She'd be my balancing act
Keep me sane when I'm insane
Give me sound advice
When my mind's gone awry
Yeah, she'd be younger than me
but so much older than me.
Get married first,
she'd always be right.
She'd be my
Ride-Or-Die 2Pacalypse chick,
Tell him (or me) off real quick
She'd be my I-know-so-much-about-this-topic
overly smart sister
Live in three states, two continents in two years
"cause I don't have anything else to do" type of girl
But she'd still write
Because she's my right-
hand, man.
She'd analyze my words
Even those I don't say
Psychoanalysis for free
See things in me I can't see
Tell me to shake it off
When I feel I can't get free...
Hang up the phone and feel like Queen Nefertitti
A queen, she'd be.
My sister is with me
Everyday I'm reminded of her,
She's a constant memory.

My Minutes

I've got 1500 minutes on a share plan,
But only have 19 minutes used so far this month.
Almost at the end of my month,
My
bill cycle ends soon
Still haven't heard from you.
Just last month, my minutes were overused with precious words from you
But now, can't even get a minute or two.
Where are you?
Are YOUR minutes being used...?

Peace Be Still

Peace
Of mind,
I need some time
To get peace of mind,
To get a piece of mine.
Can't figure out if peace is mine.
Wondering what I did wrong,
Why I'm alone this time.
Grateful that God holds all time,
And that peace is mine.
Sometimes my mind drifts back in time:
Two years ago,
Two weeks ago,
And I'm locked back in that mind-
set in thinking back to just that one inkling in time,
Then I have no peace
My mind's not mine.
Must get back this peace.
Sigh,
Have you ever really thought about that phrase:
Peace of mind?
Two important words: peace and mind.
OR,
Piece and mine.
I'd like both on my plate,
I'd make it taste like strawberry shortcake,
Yup I'd have my piece,
And I'd eat it too.
Cause peace, when you find it,
Sure tastes good, it's true.
Thought I had my piece,
Finally thought it was my divine time,
Set apart, to have as mine.
God had other plans,
So really that piece wasn't mine...
Guess you think I don't have peace of mind.
But I'll chase my peace FIRST before my piece
Because peace of mind IS a piece of mine.

Scars (For Mei)

I thought I mended that scar yesterday,
But its still open, still bleeding, and in need of healing.
I covered it with a band-aid
but my aid couldn't band the sickness on hand.
I covered my scar with the cutest jeans my money couldn’t buy
and pacified the soreness with liquid absorption
I sipped the sweetest juices for an internal solution
but that wouldn’t help my internal contusion.
The makeup didn’t help, it only made it worse.
It was so obvious what I was trying to cover up.
That long-staying LipGlass
couldn’t outlast,
my mascara ran and so did I.
Even Queen’s Collection didn’t keep me collected
and that SPF inserted?
Didn’t keep me protected.
My lack of healing became debilitating to me
I tried to hide it even from close friends and family
It became such a part of me
it became apart of me
the pain became an everyday thing to me
its longevity became a certainty,
its side-effects seemed a finality
These lines speak in past tense
but my scar is still every present
Still searching for that cure
that’ll make my healing permanent.