Boxing

A broken connection,
Widening the space between our space
System moving at a snail's pace
Seem like it's a cat and mouse race
And I'm always giving chase
Phone calls coming way too late
and further in between
Changing my strategy in this boxing ring
Body shots starting to sting
Bruised on the inside each time that bell rings
Unlimited rounds of going round and round
That sharp, piercing dreaded sound
Who's the referee?
Is my opponent even in the match with me?
The seed is here,
But she needs food
Sun AND water,
Water AND sun,
Can I subsitute sun with His only begotten son?
Because this is no fun
And this fight's not won
When no one has won
And I'm guilty of throwing cheap shots
So my words can be known as 'forget-me-nots'
Could this fight be declared a draw?
My eyesight is impaired and I can't see clearly
My arms have grown weary
Cramp in my hamstring
Ready for the fat lady to sing
My fluid maneuverability has gotten the best of me
Bobbing and weaving trying to get the best shot...
It doesn't become me
Take the gloves off
My wingspan isn't far-reaching enough
To reach you,
And not bruise her.
So,
Today I'll stop fighting,
No more boxing.

Poetry in Music: Tamia

A Bit of Spoken Word: Shihan

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.