Poems Part Deux

As I said in my last post, I have been MIA in the past several months because I have been working on a book of poetry that is set for release on Juneteenth and I had decided to feature 12 of my favorite poems that didn’t make the book. The last post I had six deleted poems and this submission I will feature six more. If my editor finds more poems that can be deleted, we might do a Poems Part Three. FYI – I tend to number my poems due to my love of Emily Dickenson. Also, these poems were writting between 1990-1999. They may contain out-dated slang or technology references, LOL!

#49

I’ve let you go now

i don’t sense the torture

the rage

the jealousy

or the misery

I’ve set you free

you don’t have to feel guilty

of having regrets

of acknowledging concerns

no i haven’t had a nervous breakdown yet

I’ve let you go

don’t be sorry for your ignorance

for being blind

for not loving me

or for being unkind

Remember, I set you free

I’m not sorry for a damn thing

not even for the star-lit sky

where you and i would meet

in the dark corners of my mind

#51A

Hell is what you make of it

Or so some wise man said

I believed my heart was safe from you

Since God put his two cents in

I had experienced everything

All I wanted was to be desired

Rejection and ill-timing

Became my own prison cell

So, I have decided to be a player

Instead of standing by

Watching other people get theirs

Now I’m gonna get mine

Hell is what you make of it

No, it’s not some religious nightmare

I believed my soul was insured

Until God raised the interest

I had resolved myself to failure

I would never have my chance

Premonition and the stars

Should have clued me in

In a moment I must decide

To move forward or go back

Standing at a crossroads

Hell is in the mind

#71

I am sick of Paris

Of flowers and romance

Of wine and caviar

Of love

Yes, of love

I’ve waited for someone to fall for me

I’ve hoped to fall for someone

I’ve filled my time with other amusements

I’ve avoided thinking about romance too much

But still, I am alone

I’ve tried to be more sociable

I’ve flirted the best that I was able

I’ve even attempted to make the first move

Still, I am denied

I think it’s something wrong with me

The entire population of men can’t be totally clueless

Maybe it’s my hair

Or eyes

Perhaps it’s my breasts

Or thighs

Could it be my intelligence

Or talents

Possibly my sensitivity

Or zeal

I refuse to spend another thought

On Valentine’s and Sweetest Day

On hearts and candlelit dinners

On love

Unfortunately, love

You could have changed my mind

You could have ruled my world

But then I forgot the problem was me

Conceivably it’s my shyness

My honesty

My complex philosophy

Maybe it’s because

I’m sick of Paris   

#105

Reap the Whirlwind

Of my heart

          my soul

          my life

Descend into the mayhem

That is me

         that is you

         that is we

Open the gates

Of ecstasy

          of growth

          of truth

Dance to be one

With me

          with us

          with all

I present to you my essence

My passion

          my trust

          my dreams

Now come to me lover

And claim what’s yours

#135

Looking at pics in a scrapbook

I realize my story must amount to more than this

Always the paparazzi 

Never the star

The groupie

Not the wife

I lock myself in daydreams

Because reality is too cruel to deal with

Habitually the cactus

Seldom the rose

The friend

Not the lover

I try to act as it doesn’t faze me

But my eyes invariably reveal my loneliness

Unfailingly the dreamer

At no time the doer

The shy one

Not the flirt

Friends tell my soulmate is out there

But I will no longer put my life on hold

For some alleged perfect man.

#51B

Hell is what you make of it

Or so a wise man said

I’ll make my hell of fire

Devour everything

I’ll experience the fire fondle me

As a lover’s forbidden touch

The fire undressing me

And the smell of burnt cotton

Did I make you blush?

Raging with its lust

I’ll dip my hand within brimstone

Run it through my gnarled roots

Until I’m inflamed by the desire

Nothing to hide my shame

I’ll create my inferno a hunger

My appetite won’t have restraints

Licking the salt of your skin

Biting my neck

I’ll eagerly let you in

Allow me on your throne

Inhaling your cologne

Ripping my fingernails across your back

Running bloody fingers through your hair

Unabashed in our orgasm

Because the hell that we create

Will no longer be in our minds