Thank you for reading.🩷

POETRY. 🍂 was originally published in Our Poetry on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

She said it would rain — 
Tonight, beneath the night sky,
it rains on us both.

✦ ✦ ✦

We lie on wet grass,
fingers locked tight together — 
Night of raining stars.

✦ ✦ ✦

The way you watch me,
eyes the color of raindrops — 
It hurts to wake up.

Thanks for reading until the end.

If you enjoyed these, then you can find more in my upcoming haiku book.

Blue Eyes as Raindrops was originally published in Our Poetry on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Black means everything and nothing

He screams again, not in silence but bravery.

He scares and hollers as he walks,

Eating in the dust bin that humanity brings.

He sees the inhumane.

He feeds off of the treatment of long dead beliefs

That people who are black like him should never be equal

The white colored people that rake the garbage from the shores of American immigration.

The ones invited and ones uninvited

Treated like the food he eats off the ground

Stale but tasty, thrown away

Because it was yesterdays

Garage, hefty bags of diverse

Cultures and cuisine from others

African, Jamaican, Japanese Mexican, and Colombian food pallets

Welcomed the pale faces from Swedish, Dutch, and English,

And White South Africans are The only crows who can crow here now.

Once denied, now welcomed. The black crow watches them all.

The white farmers who come here and hate it

Whose white colors they contain

He sees them when he eats

The corn growing out of the tree standing stalks

As the dead scarecrow watches

They never eat crow

Am I living in 1890, 1955, or 2026?

Where ancestors saw the injustice of black justice

Dropping to the ground

Counting jellybeans in a jar

Just to vote, you dropped a red one

I picked it up-and ate it.

And watched the water waded

Half stepping in pools of blood

By those beaten by gardenhoses

Chased by mean German shepherds

The privileged men too greedy

To share a piece of the American pie with them

The black crows.

Now the one percent want their pie they have them back

They’d rather throw it away

Then let black crows eat it

Given it to a minority before

Is diversity is a joke to them?

They want the same ivory colors

Located in their ivory towers

While they placed people in ghettos

Cause’ humble pie is far from humble

The haves watch the real human condition

And the have nots wonder how to be rich

I wonder why hes a crow.

Jim Crow crow.

Doesn’t his color matter as he stares at my face

Picking up the bread I left

Behind from my McDonald’s hamburger wrapper?

Next to half drunken Coke covered in foam.

I literally littered.

Thank you for reading.

The Jim Crow Crow was originally published in Our Poetry on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I never grew up,
Been more estranged.
I knew myself—
Till I estranged more.

Now the known is unknown,

The vague self in me,
It fades as I cave in—
Darkness…..

Soon there shall be nothing,
For I turn—
Into mere a stranger; Oblivion....

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Infinite Library — A Publication

“I Became a Stranger to Myself” was originally published in Our Poetry on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

As each day passes by,

A thought lingers in my mind

WHO AM I?

In pursuit of my true self

I lost my pretence

It seems like,

I am nothing.

As I grab myself,

It’s just a mist all I see,

All I feel

Now I wander around,

Neither a human nor a ghost —

Someone or something

That lies in between-

A trance, between

Who I was and Who I will be……

Write for Infinite Library: Submission Guidelines

Infinite Library — A Publication

“Lost Myself” was originally published in Our Poetry on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I remember
watching the stars,
and losing myself in thought.

I remember
that old clock,
ticking above my head,
still holding on to that nail in the wall.

I remember
how empty the world felt,
how quiet.

Forgettable was originally published in Our Poetry on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I’ve seen those thorns,
the ones you hid from the world.
I held them;
left them to sink into my skin
and feed on my blood
and I know it hurts,
I do,
but let them tear off inside my palms.
Let my fingers twitch from their pain.
Let me bear their agony.
After all,
that is the only way I know how.
The only way to show,
that you are more than a mere thought.

Thorns was originally published in Our Poetry on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.