these are my thoughts
from the future
shared today
in the flesh
as fresh fodder from
my writer’s mind
unblemished
by blurred lines
of reflection

uncensured
by time and fate

filter the tidal wave
my friend
with a patient hand

for it leaves
a trail of treasures
as it recedes
into the great beyond

ayo

~ P

between my truth and your discomfort
lies the veiled compromise
i make
every time we meet
even from a distance
in open spaces
on shared streets

sometimes i wonder
if you see
this mask i wear
over tension or fear
every time we meet

if you sense
centuries of rage
seething in my smile
and laughter
every time we meet

if you know
we live in two worlds
you in yours
me in yours and mine
divided by this mask i wear
every time we meet

if you care
if you ever did
if you ever will

ayo.

~ P

i had a prayin mother
of four
daily sometimes more
she kneeled
and knocked
on heaven’s door

on heaven’s door
she knocked
kneeling on the floor
before dawn
before her chiren
woke up

i had a prayin mother
who loved the lord
she read his book
she kept his word

kneeling on the floor
she called his name
over and over and over again
my prayin mother
called his name

from my room
i heard her call
before every meal
i heard her call
when bills were due
i heard her call
when bills were paid
i heard her call

i heard her call
to say thank you
kneeling on the floor
knocking on his door
daily sometime more

i had a prayin mother
of four
who loved the lord

she read his book

she kept his word

ayo

~ p

rituals of mind
excise tactile memory
of physical pain

ayo
~ P

friendships are like seeds planted
at the chestnut farm.
they need a little tenderness
to sprout roots and bear fruit.

when the soil is rich in honesty,
and the seeds showered daily
with unconditional love,
majestic trees of friendship evolve
with opulent branches
and succulent leaves.

the raging storms will come and go.
the fickle skies will rain and snow.
but through it all, it’s good to know
that seed you planted long ago
bloomed into a trusted friend.

ayo

~ P

and she wrote the gospel
broke it down
from the book of mothers
to a son

lost in translation

drowning in a hollow
universe of words

his tongue tied
to vowels hanging
from dissonant trees

over the main stream

don’t be a verb
my son

you were born
to be a noun

ayo

~ P

did you see
the ladies in white
dancing

their magic feet
black and bare
daring your pious eyes
to stare

their bronze heads
and tails
blissfully wrapped
in grace and rapture
like minstrels of badu

did you hear
them spin a mythic ballad
or two
of kipling
and angelou

did you feel
the muse
timeless and pure
daring you to sin

and curse those blessed hymns
that blinded you
from the secular

and kept you holier than thou

until now

ayo

~ P