Emptiness, a clean start
Space in your head,
If you let life go on
Then there's place for Magic.
Then the world will open itself,
And everything is possible.
"It's been a bit,
since I've written real words,
real verbs, letters lined up
to litter the page
with alliteration,
metaphors, hyperboles,
other devices that help gain
your undivided attention.
It's been a bit,
I almost quit,
because the last time I was on stage,
I felt like a tripped.
I felt like I didn't perform,
I knew I was pulling punches,
because there was much to consider,
but now it's got me a little bitter.
I held back.
I held back,
lowering my tone,
juxtaposed to my actual voice;
loud.
I held back,
because of the
familiar face
In the crowd.
I held back,
instead of letting it rip,
taking people on a little trip
to recount how one's lid
was flipped.
I held back
because I was scared
that I wasn't hip
and I wasn't hop,
when I was raised on Wu-Tang
and Nas
in a place where
where rain constantly drops,
and I know how
the beat drops,
the mic rocks,
and how rhymes can make time stop.
I held back
because the tone of my skin
has people guessing
wrong my ethnicity,
if you think I'm white,
you're not right,
and to be honest
that's not point.
Because I come from a place
where I was too nerd to be brown
and too chale be white
and too polite to be hanging out
with the gangsters
stealing cars
and shooting at other's backs,
and if you think
I'm talking about blacks
that's the problem,
assumption causes caution,
because not only were those
want-to-be thugs
of fairer skin,
my only friends
were much darker kin.
In the Marines,
we call ourselves green,
and you're either
dark green,
light green,
and there's no disillusion,
you disagree?
Shoot,
perhaps in the Army.
And yes,
the Navy too,
there's no turning back,
I'm no longer holding back,
what I'm saying is true.
The point of this piece
is to bring peace
to me,
that I was wrong
to hold back,
to withhold from the reader,
because how can I call myself
a poet
if I'm not painting a picture?
With your mind as the canvas,
and my words as the paint?
I watched poets come on stage,
deliver works of art,
things beautiful,
and I saw a beautiful, torn heart
put her hand up in the air
to an artist work,
like it was gospel in the church,
with thoughts on me! I saw,
but I held back,
and what I provided last time
was a finger painting
of child's skill.
I need to be real,
paint a real picture,
my motions and emotion
the finest paintbrush,
now fluttering about
all over your mind,
hopefully breathing to life
that I,
a man,
am more than some accusation,
of being mean heart.
Of being a relatable object,
supposedly,
to a poem so eloquently put
'he broke my heart,
and called it poetry'?
Get out with that
hand raised in the air
while another poet
spills out her pain,
and perhaps next time
I won't hold back,
paint a picture
of how her heartbreak
did become my poetry.
Yes, I'm being specific,
and context would make
for a much hotter piece,
but I'm over this,
over being scared,
I've conquered mountains
and crossed bridges.
Reader,
I respectfully submit,
give me another chance.
I won't hold back."
A white kid, that's what he is.
Plays baseball, also a math wiz.
Polytechnic University is his dream school.
Because his dad went there and he wants to be cool.
Hair as brown as poop.
Skin as soft as rocks.
Personality as rich as plain soup.
He also handles stocks.
September.23.2001
Trisha M. Barrek-Hopkins
Red,White, and Blue
Who would of thought
Who would of knew
That these colors are a symbol of freedom
People decide to let it in their hearts
It wasn't bought
To bring this nation together
To bring peace to our home
This symbol is here to stay forever
No hate can tare our faith apart
We will never fight alone
Together we stand strong from the start
Each morning we sing
That brings joy to each of our souls
To many... these colors
They are more then a material thing
To many of us ...For the beginning of the day
It is a great goal
A song of peace to our minds it will bring
That our flag will always sway
Red is for the warriors who bled
To keep the family and friends free
White is for those who got lost in the clouds
Blue is for the proof we have clean air to breathe
The stripes are for the ships that blow their horns so loud
We are strong
Our world is built as one
We try to understand
Those who did wrong
From all these deaths our minds are still in amazement
We must for our heros remain strong
And pray with one knee to the pavement
With the Red,White,and Blue by our side
We stand tough and tall
The power to fight good we will not hide
From any evil that can try to make us fall
Because our heros will put up a hell of a fight before they died
Copyright*
Faith is all you know.
You bestow it on me, so.
Inside, your knows-
Ten feet tall.
Slip towards the ledge.
You and I.
Push me below.
Wind took my breath.
Left me-
Laying on the floor.
Everything.
Is white and black-
And pain,
Keep my hands shaking.
When you talk to me.
Your faith changed and,
You're never close to me.
An object warm and white,
Cup-like with a handle at its side.
Halfway filled with a liquid,
A liquid with a name,
Its name being coffee.
Eager am I to hold this cup,
Equally eager am I to drink
From its rim which my lips shall touch.
Slowly yet quickly I do tilt the cup
And the liquid pours into my mouth.
The liquid's bitter taste,
Yet sweet and warm it is.
Satisfying is the taste,
So gleefully I do drink more
And indulge myself in this sweet galore.
Freely does the liquid
Move around in my mouth
As it plays with my tongue
Tickling its taste-buds.
Around and between my teeth it goes
'til I move it back with my tongue
To the back of my mouth
Where the coffee meets its doom.
Down my throat it goes,
The aftertaste the same as before.
My thirst craves evermore,
Thus I drink some more.
..................
Early in the Morning,
a white van,
parked across the street,
the house being built,
new neighbors soon,
a nice family,
I met them briefly,
the man waved,
I said, "hello",
and he said, "nice dog",
I said,
"he's been great"
and walked in the house,
my Morpheus and me.
...............................
07/12/13 6:50 pm ©
.......................
The first dream with the most strange colors,
Which are no colors: black and white.
Why they erased the colors in my dream?
On this I had no answer.
Surrounded in the most bright white,
Was I, cloaked in positivity.
Pure and perfected,
As the most innocent child.
Cloaked in shadow, blackened,
Was the halo of Nyarlathotep.
The unknown, the mysterious;
Being stuck in His web...
Being together the Yin & Yang,
One in darkness, the other bright in light.
O, Nug and Yeb together,
The inseparable twins alive!
You made my day as black as night
My life feels loss of meaning.
You’ve turned dark what once was bright
How can you know what I’m feeling?
Did you know that once you filled my life
Your loss would be unreal?
I could’ve avoided the pain and strife
If you had told me how you feel.
Here comes the rain
I’m crying in pain
Sighing with the wind
Swaying in the trees
Here comes the rain
I’m carrying the pain
I’m falling to my knees-
Here comes the rain.
Why did you say that I am not enough?
Why pierce me to the soul?
Because now, like the winter wind outside
My heart’s become so cold.
Here comes the rain
I’m crying in pain
Sighing with the wind
Swaying in the trees
Here comes the rain
I’m carrying the pain
I’m falling to my knees-
Here comes the rain.
Here comes the rain
I’m crying in pain
Sighing with the wind
Swaying in the trees
Here comes the rain
I’m carrying the pain
I’m falling to my knees-
Here comes the rain.