The first to break my heart
Although you should have been
The one to help hold it together
You were one half, the Y
That helped to create me
You were imperative to love
We are not all alike
Lost in space
Searching for our heads
Sure some rock from side to side
Terrorizing what they imagine not to be real
Giving “us” a bad name
At the lil’ green house on Pearl St.
Back in the eighties
I remember you knocking at the back door
My father’s daddy
Bringing me accessories for my ears
Clip-on’s
Standing there in front of four
Wanting that skirt
Not prepared for what I was doing
Shouting loud and moving
To a tune they did not know
Shame and disappointment
Fists Flying against my face
Because my mouth was fast
Is what you would say
Now you blame it on stress
Although you took it out on my face
Three months short of a year
You slept next to my heart
I felt every movement
You tap dancing around
I sang to you
While driving in the car
You’re more than I imagined
When I traveled to Heaven
You met me there
You said this was our new home
Just as I began to feel safe
Satan evicted us
The thoughts move at a rapid speed
If try to hush them, they scream louder
The momentum becomes too much
Especially when my chemicals aren’t balanced
The Devil summons God
And they fight over me
After I entered the world
The lady in the scrubs handed me to you
You washed my hair
And you told my mother I felt like warm clay
Just repeating the story
As you did
To keep it circulating
Just like one day
I’ll be meeting my grand-baby
I am more than one face
As I walk around in society
No one can say what I am
I’ve searched deep within
Mixed like sugar
Into ice tea
Although I am not
It’s just how others
Picture me
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
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2 comments:
i felt the emotions.
you grandfather hit you in your face?
oh yeah, foia, you can email me @ donchristop@hotmail.com and let me know what you want on your page.
Nooo...my paw-paw as I called him would never hit me..that was about my mom. I should have elaborated more right there I guess. Guess I may have needed a workshop. My grandfather brought me clip on earrings because I didn't get my ears peirced until I was like 6 or something..
This is suppose to be a Pollock exercise. Don't know if I spelled his name right..Images splashed on a page..
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