Don't sit down
until I'm done!
I've counted fifty,
if I've counted one
I sew the linings
of ripped hoodies
for my son,
and other shirts,
pillows, and blankets
some for students,
some were over-loved,
some because I wanted
to be young, beyond the cotton
they were tailored from
But in this dream,
I try to reclaim my bedroom
where the towels and comforters
are stored up high and forgotten
and someone filled the garbage
with empty mouthwash bottles
and unused toothbrushes
I was scared of a door that opened
by itself
in a house I lived in twenty years ago
My mom was always comforting
but I wanted to be brave
Wasteful and unnecessary,
as are the needles I never used
to mend the fabrics I never asked for,
the shirts, the books
I never read
'Somewhere Out There'
is a song written the year I was born
by Linda Ronstadt
and James Ingram
This American tale is short
and hobbling forward,
hopefully
"If love can see us through"
I will love you stronger than steel
if you make headway
Where have all the brave men gone?
They break into your house, steal your money,
Car keys, wallet and whatever they can.
Masked men, or covered faces with hoodies.
They assault the old, children, women and defenceless men.
What has become of facing your enemies?
Not that the innocent people are their enemies.
That’s right! All they are guilty of is trying to
Live in peace.
They attack mostly in the middle of the night,
Waving machetes, knives and guns.
And, if that’s not enough, it’s illegal to afflict
Any bodily harm to these aggressors.
Unless of course if it’s due diligence of self-
Defence. What do we do to defend ourselves?
Sit back and take it on the chin? Willingly let them in?
Judge, please refuse bail and throw these
Scumbags where they belong, even prison
Isn’t harsh enough for all these crimes committed.
convenience store sign
it says no hoodies allowed
I stay in the car
don’t think they mean you
be crazy if they didn’t
I stay in the car
Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's-
but Caesar has stolen everything:
the land,the tongue,the airwaves,
even the prayers we whispered under stars.
Render unto God what is God's -
but God is tired of excuses,
God wants justice,not jingles.
God wants bread for the barefoot.
God wants truth that does't trend.
So tell Caesar:
We are the new prophets bro,
we carry Scripture in spray cans,
we baptize pavements with protest songs,
and our psalms wear hoodies and sneakers.
Tell him the meek are armed
with metaphors and memories,
Tell him our tithes is uprising,
our sermon is survival
our altar is the street.
Render unto Caesar his coins -
we're doing trading our souls.
For the kingdom of the poor is rising,
And the drum is the only law we obey now
As I step out of the car, I can hear their song, the geese come in for a landing, their swift bodies gliding across the calm glassy pond, braking up the golden sunset as it’s setting across the prairie…
The air is crisp as fall has finally made its presence up north, pretty soon we will be braking out our hoodies and light weight jackets….
I walk around to the deer as they are busy filling their tummies with grass and flowers, life is so blissful right now, no worries I have, as only GOD bring this scene to me, I swallow hard as to not show my tears, nobody would understand…
Is this why I decided to write again, dear Jesus, help me be forever in this moment, as if capturing fire flies in a glass jar, to keep in my heart, Jesus, I know only you understand my deep felt emotions that am trying to convey.
As I turn to leave, a lone geese flys solo above my head, coming in for a landing, its wings spread out wide, much like our Savior welcoming its child into HIS arms, when they are hurting from not being heard..
During the COVID lockdown,
"Yours Truly" became "Spend Cast"
All those stimulus checks...Gone!
Now, just figments of the past.
I bought way too many Sox,
I bought way too many Shoes
I bought way too many T-shirts
I think I caught "Consumer Blues!"
Bought a lot of funny Hoodies,
And bought "Six" Damascus Knives!
Bought Boxers by the dozen,
Oh, how would my funds survive?
If I had back all the "Coin"
That I gladly threw away,
Like those G.D. "Lotto Tix"
I'd be a "Wealthy Man" today!
Ruffles of sand that flash before my eyes in every waking moment
Oceans of blue that briefly lift and meet mine
My plain, brown eyes, that would blend in the mud
And my clothes that never lose the scent of pine
Versus his hoodies and the gold chain that hangs around his neck
Or the glasses that come and go upon his nose,
His brain, or the fact he shares a name
With the boy who hurt me the most.
When I stand surrounded, I look for him
Watching the door, hoping to see his hesitant gait
And the way he shoves his hands in his pockets
Seemingly content to stop, watch, and wait.
When the day fades to night, and the crickets cease to chirp
It’s him who haunts me when I lie awake in bed
Replaying each little interaction
And regretting the things that i never said.
Every corner of my mind stays aware
Of how fragile our tether will be
If I allow myself to stare into those oceans of blue
A single wave would wash us out to sea.
So silent I sit whenever he comes around
The fear that I keep protects my fractured heart
Injured, but not quite broken
By a love that didn’t start.
Cornfield aluminum recycled communion wafers.
We drank Gatorade wine from a stolen lunchbox,
sat Indian style in the irrigation ditch,
reciting Tool lyrics as scripture.
My IPhone had a cracked screen,
Her Android played only static and KORN.
We smoked straw wrappers,
wore hoodies like vestments.
God, in the form of a substitute teacher,
glassy eyed and smoked menthols.
She named a dead bird “Ezekiel.”
Buried it with her wedding ring
underneath the bleachers behind the gym
where someone graffitied “THIS IS NOT A revolution”
the snow didn’t remember our names.
Just a pager in her pocket,
still blinking after the apocalypse
Since high school I’ve been trying to be pretty.
New clothes.
New friends.
New personality .
Being less nerdy.
Less of who I used to be way back when.
But see the problem is,
I’m still who I used to be in middle school.
No matter how much makeup I wear.
No matter how many hoodies I throw away.
I’m still Ameirah Rivers.
The girl with the strange walk.
And the funny fashion taste.
With the weird taste in men.
She wasn’t messed up.
Nothing was wrong with her.
They were white and skinny,
And she was just Ameirah.
And that’s ok.
Be Ameirah.
Bring joy to peoples faces
Make them look twice
Stand your ground.
Argue back.
Keep living.
Keep nerding out.
You’re authentic.
Not covergirl.
Just Ameirah.
The dresses of many a distant phase,
the casual attire of black and white,
the lumberjack shirts that were once, my craze.
The hoodies that hide me, both day and night,
the caps that shadow me from day’s sunlight.
The leather jacket for boldness of face,
the styles I’ve hid, for fear of losing face.
07.02.2024
I had a cat, a large one
I thought I loved the cat
The cat thought he loved me too!
Then, one day,
They took the cat away
The cat, with the bassinet, the little furry presence
And Sameeha’s science club chapstick
And I thought I was kissing scientific a book cover
Where he is artistic in a beauty in the other way, rare.
It was a cat. After all, it was just a cat
It had the nicest jacket ,
with hoodies on,
the cat used to sit on time,
the cat
And it had the fish, tummy time, happy face, and everything first time
For I never yearn to come back! For there, to chime!
It is just a known type of pain that I knew for far too long!
On a question paper, pm time, departmental too
Dealey Plaza, are you keeping right on the still unresolved Elm street?
Heavenly God , do you play around heavenly to utter Godsay, is your slip
Where you do not know usually after or before the strait the gate
You never knew Jack Ruby and you never knew Oswald
So you never knew other than too much other than, Please, other tall!
A percentage of me has to hell been consigned
by the ever raging zionists' war machine.
To each livid soldier, a mandate is assigned
to uproot terror where multitudes are confined.
Torrents of explosives have swept my landscapes clean.
Churches, mosques, schools have all to mighty vengeance bowed.
Stricken mothers wail uncontrollably aloud.
Itinerancy pervades my horror stricken crowd,
whilst my kids toy with explosives, carnage and ruin.
Survivors will take shelter from snipers shooting
death balls and lead from peevish and portable guns.
Horror unprecedented the people outruns.
I have metamorphosed to nothing but a morgue.
Lice and bugs have infested hoodies lined with borg.
Disease and maimed limbs have no remedies in sight.
Let not the world be unmoved by my sorry plight.
Why must I this price pay for a thousand or more killed?
My morgues are beyond their capacity filled.
The deaths of innocents are nothing but unjust.
My once-populated streets have been turned into dust.
Dangling hair, girls twirl, drum majors,
Baseball turned cap boys, screenagers,
Gum chew boys, girls curls, tweenagers,
Just teenagers, just teenagers.
Pixie sticks tootsie rolls swallows,
Gummy bears m & m's follows,
Reeses cups hershey bars hollows,
Tidbits mellows, tidbits mellows.
Marshmallow pillow stuffing jams,
Strawberries dribble squishing rams,
Peach clings and lemon rings swim crams,
Dollops mouth slams dollops mouth slams.
Dressed up, lollipop, a cutesome,
Suit, tie, flowers guy, a twosome,
Hoodies, both moody, don't getsome,
Great into some, great into some.
I hung my heart upon the Christmas tree
Placed my hope in a love that came so free
Baby Jesus curled his little finger around mine
Said, I have given you my own bread and wine
Santa came rolling down with his secret gifts
Said, I think your face needs a little lift
Reached deep down into his big red bag
Pulled out some face cream that hides the sag
Snow bells and jingle bells began to ring
Rudolf in high notes began to sing
You don’t need to be sad this Christmas eve
Your tears you can wipe on my good old sleeve
My stockings he stuffed with mouth -watering goodies
The elves beneath the tree peeped from their hoodies
A sugar coated cookie slipped and fell below
Right into the hands of a cheeky little fellow
The snowflakes began to fall so lightly
Upon the decorations that were colored so brightly
Gold feathered angels sang with assiduous rapture
That Christmas eve my wounded heart was captured
who's counting bridges in shiny town
the air-cutting sirens sound closer today
and newsmen run to compile their shows
around the sidewalk sleepers
trucks reversing shout their intent
to ear-phoned hoodies and baggy jeans
swinging necklaces of vape machines
these eyeless rats they scurry
shop doors suck and spew their prey
where round white gum stains every step
and windows stack like giants high
sit suits above the gutter
seeming bots are running late
while others dawdle killing time
these faceless fillers with coffee cups
and phones to other worlds
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