Word 27: Radio

Radio…

remember them days
when we would sing and sway
and you would serenade
me every day
and you’d make mix tapes
so i could rewind it back
and play a thousand times
that one dedicated track

our language was lyrics
our bodies spoke music
our smiles hummed duets
our spirits symphonic

and when you were nowhere around
i’d fall asleep to the sound
of our favorite radio station
playing our favorite rotations
i’d dream of songs
stages and scenes
with our love strewn in between
with the radio
playing in a soft hum
our love in stereo
love set to drums

Word 23: Bed

Bed…

twirling in lieu of walking
singing instead of talking
i tip toe, skip and leap
past a bed of
jasmine sweet
i double back
i close my eyes
i fall backward
to view the sky
i wallow
in petaled perfume
still humming
my lovely tune
birds soar by
everything seems so alive
and as i rise
to leave the scene
i spot a sparkly stream…
bouncing
lifted
dancing…i inch toward the sound
of a watery concerto
playing loudly in surround
i give my toes a test
and find myself in up to my neck
coasting and floating quietly
rinsing away all regret
i rise
i wring
i dry
and i’m off to adventure more
when i spot a light-filled door
thinking not,
i draw near the portal
with curiosity i cannot name
and peek past the light
to hear people calling my name
i allow my eyes to lead
and to my horror i finally see
i’m no longer mortal
my family is mourning me

perhaps a bit morbid, but I’ve always wanted to die in my sleep…peacefully in my bed.

Word 2: Water

Onto day 2…this one should be easy…water

a walk along the edge
tipping on toes
sidling against
a slippery slab
wanting to float freely
afraid and unable,
still willing to try
“i’m not scared…”
hands too small to hold on…
from shallow to deep
in a blink, i dip
succumbing to weighted water
screaming silently
heart pounding
ears filling
feet reaching for footing
“where am i?”
“help…i can’t swim!”
thank Him
for putting ‘her’
where i struggled
she yanked me upward
like i was made of air
my cries freed
from the damp choking
shivering from fear and cold
i revel in the concrete underneath me
…i almost drowned

**as a child I almost drowned while at a park with family and friends. I decided to walk the edge of the pool and miscalculated the very moment the water went from 5 feet to 10. luckily, a woman was sitting on the edge, saw me struggling and pulled me clean out of the water. it took me years to want to get back into a pool…and crazy enough…I STILL can’t swim.**

The Twenty Sixth Day…

…the day someone left and never came back (not death related)

I make me sick…these questions, man…~sigh~ lol

Welp, I’ve already spoken about my ex, my BFF from 5th grade, and since it can’t be death related (I’m a fucking genius)…I can’t think of someone.

*sighs and stares at screen for a while*

OH! I got it!!!

This chick…she was my best friend. I grew up with her. Told her EVERYTHING and never once betrayed her…or at least I didn’t feel like I did. I loved her like a sister…she was part of my soul. She was me but in another form. All I thought about most days was what else she and I could get into. NO amount of drama in my life or distance from her could turn me against her.

I mean, did I hang out with others? Yes. Of course. I had other friends. I had my friend who I sang with all the time…staying up until the wee hours of the morning whispering in the dark and falling asleep on her. I even had one who became my go to for sexy advice. She helped me broaden my sensual self and learn to be in touch with the full-fledged woman dwelling deep within me. I have my fun friend who brings out the artistic side of me…

but, I miss my first best friend. She left and didn’t return. She seems gone forever. I look at reminders of how good we used to be together and I find myself hurting at how abrupt her exit was. I wonder if we can make up…if I can apologize and have her come back so we could make it right. I don’t know. Maybe she was jealous of my other connections and felt some kinda way. I never meant to make her feel that way…I just thought she always knew I’d defer to her…always remember her as my best.

Here’s a poem my friend reminded me of tonight…it speaks volumes to my heart space right now.

LOST ART

i’ve never felt this helpless
lost to the art
and afar from the center
so estranged from inspiration
…i don’t want
every poem to be a non-poem
of poetic pain
a plea to the god of bards
to lift the weight
off of my pen…
i can’t tell if it’s due
to lack of paramour
or presence of apathy
either way,
i’ve never been here so long
it just doesn’t feel like me

not only are poems stilled
and erotica chilled…
books won’t bind
stories won’t end
things begin…
and end again against my will
when i see works
of fellow quills
i burn with envy
for my own passions
to be fulfilled
…i can barely read
the scribes of others
while my own muse’s heat
is snuffed and smothered

i feel as if this helplessness
can’t be helped
…and just when,
think i’ve missed it
i shrug with indifference
and nestle comfortably in it
i wallow in silence
i slop in muddled thoughts
an eerie acceptance
of aimlessness and loss

i count the pieces of me
that have broken and been cast away
all of the events remembered
like white noise on repeated play
and i know
that somewhere adrift
are the words
that escaped to be free
traipsing hand in hand
refugees…
overjoyed and over me

maybe they’re in Tahiti
on my dream escapade
tanning, swimming and floating
basking in French Polynesian rays
i might be able to locate
a few in the family i never made
or took up with another poet,
spoken words on a stage
it’s possible,
they grew wings
and became angels
with “mi abuela”
love
peace
bliss
all fitted with little halos
some stuffed in a box
interlaced around a ring
or maybe they’ve become lyrics…
waiting for me to sing

i just wish i didn’t feel strange
a stranger to it all
i want to find my place again
i want to do it all
i want poetry
and novels
and erotica
and blogs
i want it easy
like it once was
before this overcast of fog
find me…
return to me,
i miss my inner bard
i want words, stanzas and depth again…
i want to find my heart

Words on Wings © 2010

Just know…I miss you my Muse…My Poetry. I hope you read this and don’t stay gone. Novels, Music and Erotica could never take your place. I love you. I miss you. I need you.

~*thank you Renee…you showed me…well ME*~ ❤

Langston & Nikki

I’ve been reading poetry lately…

It’s been a while, since I sat down and read something of someone else’s. I hate to be influenced by other styles when I’m trying to solidify my own…

I’m quite aware that, “good” poets are inspired by others’ works…but, GREAT poets set the bar. I’ve been told I’m great, but recently I feel sub par. Now, now…if you’ve read my stuff and you say, “Kali…cut it out. Your stuff is GREAT“…pump your breaks. YOU are officially biased…and quite possibly…you love me, so again…you work for me. LMAO

I mean sub par against some deeper more established poets. People whose works stand out and BRING it. I’m talking creativity, uniqueness, style and depth. I’m talking opening “it”…widening “it”…and quite possibly…putting a hole in “it” because the bottom ain’t deep enough.

I’ve been reading Langston Hughes and Nikki Giovanni online. How I came across my first poetry book was quite spiritual. My ex pastor of long ago (RIP Rev. Wilson) had a sister who I rarely ever saw…but, one day while at their family home she invited me up to her room. She’d heard from her brother and my mother that I wrote…and wanted to talk to me. Not long after sharing thoughts…she gave me Nikki’s “Cotton Candy on a Rainy Day“. Unfortunately, I lost that book when a relationship ended. ~sigh~ …I have every intention on replacing my book AND acquiring some others. I don’t think I saw his sister much after that…but, she told me I’d love it and I did.

You wanna know something? Other than the ones mentioned above and knowing “of” Sonia Sanchez and other historic bards like Yeats…I’ve never really been a reader of poetry books. I began writing…and that was it.  I had so much in my head that I just wrote. So much so that it got me in trouble (see, journals/diaries/secret notes).

As a child, I indulged in reading fables, researching encyclopedias for vast types of knowledge and as I got older, reading novels/urban tales and the occasional autobiography. I honestly don’t remember being enthralled by the works of others BESIDES Nikki Giovanni. I DO remember having an affinity for Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven“…but that was it. One night, my friend, Tei was reading poetry to me…sharing her love of books she’s come to own and I felt like I was “posing” as a writer while listening. I mean, how didn’t I have at least ONE book in my hand from a renowned poet/writer? How did I manage to call myself a writer without reading some classic books? I could never sit among a field of writers and exchange quips, lines and quotes from memory. I could never sit at a round table of poets and throw out titles of books or poems ad nauseum.

I don’t know…I’m not TOTALLY kicking myself for shits and giggles. I guess I am asking myself to consider taking what I like to call “poetic inventory”. I am going to start looking into finding some collections from the above and some I don’t know and IMMERSE myself in someone else’s craft. I’ve been tussling back and forth with my muse…and it’s tiring. Writing isn’t coming as easy as it once did and that worries me. Perhaps it’s time to focus on something other than what I can create. Maybe I ain’t so great. Doesn’t mean I can’t BECOME great…but, maybe I need to be inspired.

We’ll see…

For now…I wanted to share a poem from Nikki and Langston.

I Wrote A Good Omelet by Nikki Giovanni

I wrote a good omelet…
and ate a hot poem… after loving you


Buttoned my car…and drove my 
coat home…in the rain… 

after loving you


I goed on red…and stopped on 
green…floating somewhere in between… 
being here and being there… 

after loving you


I rolled my bed…turned down 
my hair…slightly 

confused but…I don’t care…


Laid out my teeth…and gargled my 
gown…then I stood 

…and laid me down…

To sleep… 

after loving you 


~smiling at this~



Gods by Langston Hughes
The ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond and jade,
Sit silently on their temple shelves
While the people 
Are afraid.
Yet the ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond-jade,
Are only silly puppet gods
That the people themselves
Have made
~ain’t that the truth~

…thank you for reading 🙂

Snapshot #1 ~ Me

Photo of: ME

I may not be sized down
to a dainty frame
for dainty minds
with limited thinking…
but, I’m still frail
demure and soft
tender to the touch
unmeasured depths of heart
with much to give…
with much to learn…
with much wisdom to impart…
I may be strong,
inside AND out…
but, I feel the slights against me
I set them free
like chicks from nest
…and carry on like all is sweet
because eventually…it will be…
I suffer no emotional drought
because…
like frayed wires
wielding danger
that manically jump about…
I hold energy no one can harness
I hold great things no one can tout
my kinda love,
most can’t do without…
and don’t know it
until they’re already out…
sometimes afraid,
of my own power to be
I forget who I am
but never whose I be
yes,
it’s possible to know
to whom I belong,
and forget my way
letting the delusion
of loneliness
cause my mind to stray,
but…
still,
I come back to ME…
this woman-child of God
remembering…to be ME…every day
in the VERY way
that makes me
limitless…to the eyes of those
who dare to see
the woman with many names,
but whose mother named her…Kali

The Lonely Poem





have you ever been so lonely,
that you remember
the embrace
from cold arms
of a past charmer?
have you ever been so lonely,
that you consider
going back
to a neglectful cat?
with a short reach…
and an attention span to match?
have you ever been so lonely,
that you consider dealing
with profanities,
infidelities,
insecurities,
obscenities,
idiosyncrasies…
possibly even a ode to thee…
on your knees…
just to get an “i love you”?
sometimes,
the void
is unending
the longing,
vacuous…
leaving room for
distorted images
of perfect times
of enveloping hugs
that felt like love…
even when it wasn’t
that can make you want to
abandon abandonment…
for deluded contentment
have you ever been this lonely?
…i may have felt that lonely…
but i’m not.
not so lonely that i’d
suck up miles of shit
regurgitated and remixed
into a safety net
with a hole
the size of lonely’s pain
and hate’s despair…
not so lonely that i’d
toss my dignity
to the wind
attached to a feather…
even when the lonelies
sneak in 
and lay me down tearfully,
tucks me in with doubts…
wakes me up on the wrong side of the bed
gives me attitude
headaches from
love hangovers…
i’m
just
not
that lonely.

i love you~v day ode

i love you
sight unseen
breath not breathed
vibes not felt
i still melt
because,
i love…YOU…
no thing spoken
no thing taken
given
or hoped
without bounds
or reason
without a way to cope
i do,
love you…
without a day dedicated
a season set aside
a moment savored
captured
and tied
i love you
i do!
i love you…
when it hurts
though it shouldn’t
when you were there
and when you couldn’t
in my subconscious
and in my daydreams
before we met
and in future scenes
i love you
whether you deserve it
whether you’re worth it
in the times
when dust collected
on trust expected
and…
yea,
when you’re loving someone else…
i love you
no bouquet of my faves
jewelry from kay’s
no god diva’s morsels
dates, dinners or sexcapades
no surprises with the best
or a heart pounding through chests…
can speak the magnitude
of my love for you
and,
as i walk alone
on this day of love shown
and tan in other’s loveshine
waiting patiently for mine…
no pause before answering
i can say
i love you
i do…



i art love

i conceived it
formed from hopes
fused with promise
mated in bliss
it grew…quickly
strongly
tumbling inside of me
kicking to be acknowledged
tugging on me to feed
absorbing my inhale
making me feel purposed
i rubbed on it
cosseting my seed
watering it with tears
lending my breast to it’s needs
whispering affirmation of life
conditioning it to spring forth
healthily
wholly…a perfected version
of me
my heart
and love’s sweetness
it burst through a small space
a ray of shine
through a dark place
barren from heart’s burn
yet,
the miracle of artistic life
was divinely born to me
refusing to be denied
casting it’s soul through me
manifesting to be held
i art love…
i birthed it
captured it with a stroke of love
brushing it’s lovely reds and mediocre blues
golden yellows and muted hues
against walls structured
to be home where i nurse it…
cursing at times my ability to rear it
but refusing not to be near it
forever tied
thee that i love
art…

Yawning…like 4 In the Mawnin’









Here I am, up all late…well early. “Naps” replace actual sleep and I know that this is the norm. This is what happens when I’m stressed, feeling hurt or lost. So, because I’m up…I figured I’d post something. I wouldn’t wanna just be resting on my “laurels” so to speak after coming off of a 30 day blog challenge…would I?


I am gonna try to go to bed now…I’m sure I’ll be up in a few hours.


I thought I’d write a poem or freestyle but, I have the nerve to be feeling some kind of sleep setting in. *WTH*  So here’s a poem I wrote a little over a year ago…enjoy.

more than


i love you more than 
the stretch of my arms 
or the capacity of a human heart
or even…
the span of an angel’s wings
i love you more than
my mind’s scope
or my soul’s hope
more than the furthest reach
of the longest rope
i love…
more than love can be defined
more than the infinite
space of time
more than a sky’s height
or an Alaskan night
more than
and fiercer than
and greater than
a lioness’ fight
and even then
its rougher than
but easier than
a kayo on fight night
that is 
how… 
i love you
the stretch of imagination
and a dream’s escalation
the force and pull
of a planetary rotation
with showers of fire
and atmospheric changes
resulting in novas
and supernovas
of super loving explosions
*catching breath*
is a mere display of
how
much
i love you…
you…have…NO…clue
that i love you
more than the shells that hold us
and the experiences
and life
thats taken hold of us
more than the eons 
that separate our past lives
more than 
all the love stories ever scribed
more than
the heaving cries
of broken hearts
or
stuttering mouths
in awe of art
more than the echoing pains
of a child’s birth
more than
the heat contained
at the core of the earth
when i say,
i love you…
know that
its more than
even “I” know…