form following function

 form following function. everything, everyone in conjunction. they loosen their necktie (noose like) at the luncheon. eucalyptus, pine, oak, cedar. hot for you/running a fever. running on a treadmill and getting nowhere. i’m a believer. i sometimes act like i don’t but truly secretly care. black lace underwear thrown wherever during our affairs. musical chairs. they come here alone but leave in pairs. oranges, apples, plums, and pears. sweet juices dripping down my chin as i break the forbidden fruit’s skin and grin.

lock the windows

 lock the windows, bolt the doors 

nothing more sexy than high heels on a tile floor
but they’re coming for ya- didn’t you know
better
than to hold that sign and march down the road? that’s for white folk
now, with little hope, we are both 
dodging rubber bullets on our way home 
from 
the might-as-well-be demilitarized zone 
i watch you step into your apartment with mind blown 
forgot about my phone but nobody picked up so now i’m even more alone 
i can’t breathe but not because a cop is kneeling on me but because i smoke too much and ran at full speed 
i swear to the almighty if one more person tells me they’re voting for that awful excuse for a human being 
than i will be a vigilante and just like the police tell them to freeze 
before bullets strong made with dinosaur teeth go flying 
speaking of flying i had a dream that a pterodactyl was flying me to safety 
i felt at peace- warm and free
until i woke up suddenly and realized that i had peed the bed in my sleep- 34 going on 3?
it’s because something frightened me: re-watching ava duvernay’s 13th was haunting 
we are still in a partially self-imposed slavery and/or capitalist bondage 
i still can’t believe what they did to frederick douglas’ statue up in rochester 
tonight my mother is the moon and i have confessed to her as if under oath 
feeling better i am no longer accepting the little bit of rope they keep giving us to hang ourselves with 
i am learning how to positively cope
even though it seems like once i cast a vote it disappears into the ether 
or somewhere beneath her casket high up in the mausoleum 
it’s time we stop being sheep and paint the white house black with a bit of pink
pussy
hats
defunding police
30 states are still executing 
and i bet your jesus christ isn’t happy 
so i am home from the protest turned violent and am at peace knowing that this whole life is merely a dream 
pterodactyl please carry me in my dreams again; this time i’ll empty my bladder before sleeping

jezebel

show don’t tell. met jezebel in hell. gave her a big kiss on the lips. she tasted like flat cherry coke with a hint of cinnamon. wide awake but are you woke? we were fragile so we broke. she met jezebel in hell. they swapped spit and tasted smells. synesthesia. amnesia. the scent of her skin tastes like peppermint. you forget. hell bent. too bent to get broken. dropping in on a skateboard. backing in to a parking spot in a four door. jezebel rings the bell. a closed door. key is under the flower pot. please, somebody, unlock the chains wrapped around our bodies. our bodies. waiting in screaming hotel lobbies. riding shotgun on a trip to the surface of the sun. burnt to a crisp. wings melted. icarus. pegasus. a winged horse. forlorn yet staying the course. tiny violins playing every time they cry. playing a game that is already in double overtime. will it ever be over? will it ever end? who will win? baskets, balls, rims, fields, goals. walking across hot coals as hot knives slice spines riddled with scoliosis. jezebel give us a kiss. excuse me, miss? you forgot this. a little blue corset, a little red corvette, a black bonnet, a psalm, a song, a sonnet. a wish, a dream. baileys irish cream and coffee. halley’s comet is coming soon to a theatre near you. popcorn, chocolate covered raisins, ripped tickets, screens full of sex and violence. the tiny violins are sobbing. never met a bank not worth robbing. never met a woman more inviting. you are intoxicating. drunk driving a five gear bike on a long journey through an infinite night that sometimes gets bright. time doesn’t exist. jezebel smells of insect incest and nag champa incense. incensed, angry, livid. this episode of life is vivid. pass the chocolate covered raisins. pass the blunt. so honest that frankly it comes across blunt. fourth down punt. baseball player world series bunt for a home run. children run towards home after the school bell rings and class lets out. jezebel don’t pout. what is this about? nostalgia. memories are all made in china. whisper turned shout. lager, ale, stout. mountains, cactus fruit, lizards, bushes. gunshots from beirut. the opposite of the truth isn’t always lies. jezebel sighs. the rock faces of mount rushmore cry. show don’t tell. show and tell. a show on television. surround sound. technicolor. high definition. brother, sister, mother. had a vision. now on a mission. missionaries, rosaries, strawberries, chickpeas, mixed greens, salad dressing. dressing up to spend the night in. just because it came out doesn’t mean it was ever in. nearing the end of the sentence with periods of time like 25 to life. laws are irrelevant and crimes are construct. construction noises cause a cacophony. authentic. real. phony. phone rings; a voice speaks; bad news…are you sitting down? if not, take a seat. tragedy. the revolution will not be televised but it will be available for streaming or broadcast live on a podcast or online. faith. pacing the six by eight cell waiting for the guard to come back around. this existence is a prison. lethal injection or electric chair, which is your preference? which would you prefer? to be clear: everybody is unsure and underinsured. to be honest: the cure for cancer is death. for your information: stealing hearts is more than petty theft.

lash fill

how do you feel?

lash fill.

jagged little pill; alanis morisette
please remind me to forget.
 
what is this new element?

earth, wind, fire, air
struggling to make it into
my black lungs

will you forgive?

(wishing i were still young)

is it fine where you live, where you reside?

i was losing my mind then i lost you at the same time.

i am going outside of outside to have a smoke-

coke is an unfunny joke.

yellows

Yo

Can I bum one of those?

Dressed up all alone
wearing
your
clothes

and my own cologne

I

wish you
had
a
clone

Flipped out
like skateboards
in
the road

52 cards in a deck

in los angeles today waiting on a plane

can’t handle this baggage and all the pain 

at baggage claim wishing i could say your name

to your face 

but i am confused and ashamed 

still

life

of a butterfly in wet paint 

never 

dried 

my eyes

on a cocktail napkin 

wondering when will this end 

and what exactly happened 

to begin with

all i know is: there are 50 states in the US

and 52 cards in a deck

also, i’ve got an ace up my sleeve for a queen 

feeling mean and green like a teen 

and i always keep a tampon on me

just in case i need to clog a bullet wound

or stop the bleed

not acting my age because things

haven’t been the same since you threw me away

in los angeles today 

deboarding a plane 

praying for rain, but all i know is this: there 

are 50 states in the USofA and 52 cards in a deck

i am missing the queen

and praying for reign 

sycophant

sycophant, tell me why you always take advantage of me and where i’m at

a

disconnect between reality and fantasy 

has 

got me breathing heavy 

as

a boxer or mma fighter just less blood and benefits to my health

is precarious, at best, and poor most of the time 

spent

too generously

most of the time

i feel the need to bleed internally and metaphorically 

for all of my sins

are 

just good deeds that took a wrong turn 

somewhere along the 

line

is not made to be crossed but travelled 

and forgiveness is truly a two way street

i forgave you for never giving me a phone call and you accepted my apology

but at the same time wanted nothing to do with me

my dear sycophant, godspeed 

love is a luxury

love is a luxury that i can’t afford

oh, yes, i was old enough to know better

when i shot the bottles and let that green and brown glass

shatter spread atop the rocks of my dead grandparents yard

where and what is the in between of easy and hard?

with eyes shut up tight i go floating down the boulevard

with my debit, metro, and identification card gripped tightly 

in my hand in a ziplock plastic bag

i get ahead of it all as you tend to lag

maybe we’re just not compatible yet a perfect match

watching my ten year old cousin lighting match after match

lightning candles around a dinner table set for eleven 

heading down to the 7-11 for some liquid courage 

and this time i won’t be discouraged 

by the cricket of a conscience in my head

is feverish

i make a wish as a blow out a candle my ten

year old cousin lit

feeling as if the fairy or genie or god that grants

wishes is bored of hearing the same request

over and over

again:

love is a luxury i can’t afford 

new york (from the fifty states collection)

Correct me if I’m wrong but aren’t I always right

turn, right turn, right turn, and right turn

Around till you’re back at the same place;

Put my ashes in a vase or an urn

Give me a nickel for every dollar not earned

it but wasn’t ready and it was so f-ing

Cold it burned

it left a scar just like New York

And my scars will never truly be gone

Like, crack heads beggin’ for change 

On

The subway 

And I’m not talking

About where Jared lost weight

of NYC sitting heavy on my shoulder blades

Couldn’t cut through this pain 

feeling like the Greek God Atlas with the world

on his shoulders; I hope neither one of us 

Shrug

and try to smile 

when they ask if I’m okay

Okay, okay I am too sensitive to live

In the Empire State

And I found that out a bit too late

nights and I’m roaming the streets for a fix

I wake up and go to bed with this syringe

holds devil juice and like count to ten

Then I’m an addict-

Skeletons in my closet and ghosts in the attic

And a pink slip and a sign saying I’m evicted

Feeling helpless- the sky used to be the limit

But temptation is the only thing I can’t resist-

Mom look at your kid

What happened? 

They notice every time I smile so it 

Must not be often

It’s hard with no way to soften it

I try to remember the NY motto written in Latin:

‘Excelsior’ which means ‘ever upward’

We travel

back home, flying through time zones

And it hurts deep in my bones

the snow isn’t what makes me cold-

If it can be bought it can be sold

Out 

Show

Famous people dining fancy

While the poor go hungry-

Black on black crime; people in Rikers

Doing time

is of the essence- people murder for capital

And New York’s capital is Albany-

Look in the mirror and tell me what you see

the beauty 

staring back at me 

Through the layers of ugly

city

Rats so dirty haunt me while waiting for the G train

And nobody can complain-

These tears I can’t contain

Everybody’s got a hustle, just trying to maintain

It’s a whole lot of pain yet they say

It’s just a flesh wound but I see scars on their faces

And Band-Aids don’t cover the wounds

Get salted and dripped on with lemon juice 

What kind of life would you like, you choose

me to get to Heaven please

I’m on my knees

Are bruised from praying

For Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, the Bronx,

Long Island

Iced tea dripping sweat in the heat

And God bless the immigrants that came

Through Ellis Island

No man or woman is

free until they break the mental chains

On their necks worth thousands

But they sleep in the Projects;

Roommates with roaches and mice

Time to put the cigars on ice

is just frozen water

From the Atlantic and if you ignore

The tragic aspects

There is something romantic 

About the big apple

just has a worm in it sometimes

So take a bite of life

And chew before you swallow

The facts: over 183 languages are represented

In the city full of 16 million eyes

see

My birthday is the 27^th of January and

New York State is the 27^th most extensive, 

Third most populous and 7^th most densely

Populated of all the states in the US of A

B, C, D, E, and F poverty-

Jay Z, Nicki, Biggie, Alicia Keys

Are a few of the lucky 

number 13

And don’t let me bring you down

I mean, follow your dreams

Just remember to sleep

Tight

Don’t let the bed bugs bite

And I hope your dreams are as sweet

As your life 

20/20

she walks the sidewalk carefully so as not to crush any black ants

crawling under her feet 

she talks incessantly to nobody and drinks then wears ear plugs

just so she can sleep 

after seven days of being lonely she starts feeling weak and dreary

also a bit leery of everybody 

they are building a dam to keep out the damned it’s bedlam it’s

the new bethlehem 

way down in jerusalem they are flooding the streets in armies as

deep as the sea 

is it still perjury if you are only lying to yourself under oath, under

the mighty oak tree?

what we see isn’t always what it appears to be- it appears, apparently

that 20/20 means nothing

when our vision is clouded by judgement and our third eyes are blind

as a bat during daytime

we sleep and come alive during the night after night and plight after plight

we sure put up a helluva fight 

i am tossing and turning in these twisted sheets sweating and shivering

not even praying 

simply smiling and awaiting the great white light of the ending of my life

is imminent and inevitable

so i might as well drink this poison and get comfortable in preparation for

the end 

she is walking down the sidewalk alongside the tree lined street stopping

every time she sees a dry leaf

the crunching beneath her feet is soothing and the sound makes her remember

that one november with a feeling of relief

that cuts, if only momentarily, through the grief that rattles her teeth and chills

her bones down to the core

life is a movie filmed in color, life is a great show with no encore no matter how

loud the crowd applauds 

or roars for more than before the government is doing us in and it is quite 

a sad time to be alive and poor

but i suppose it beats being rich and six feet under 

the weather for what seems like forever 

isn’t as far away as it used to be 

charades

how could we forget your silhouette or the smell of your wasted breath

that song you would sing will be with us till death

comes

to

those

who wait

standing in a long line like a figure eight that we will never escape

to a new place, dye your hair and paint your face

then call it all a masquerade as you play charades

only to lose

my number

forget my name

maybe that’s what will keep us from going insane with this never ending pain

that we both face everyday when we wake and every night before we wash our heads for bed

hey, if the dead all hold secrets well kept

where does that leave the living

is hard but somebody once told me that there are hundreds of ways to get through the day

say, let me know when you find one that works for you

and i will do the same too

hearse

i liked you better when you pissed sitting down

you liked me more when i was shy and boring

in the next room i can hear her snoring

while they tear down the building and erect

another in it’s place that looks like your face except

it lacks that look of shame and disgrace 

when the only advice they gave was to pray

i knew it had gone from bad to worse 

i remember when you were my soccer mom

carrying cigarettes for me in your purse

i hope in the end that i will be driving my own hearse

and that my casket is made of biodegradable plastic

moon

concrete spoon

the sun at full bloom

an ambulance siren booming through the room

where she sleeps next to me snoring

as he lays awake trying to cry but not remembering 

how

so he makes little mouse sounds and squints his eyes

are not quite blue, not quite green but definitely not brown

i liked him better when he pissed sitting down 

teenage heart attack

i dreamt a basketball hoop on a roof

there’s a ringing in my right ear that is causing all kinds of fear

like that i’ll pull a van gogh and mail it to you 

searching for the truth in the fairy tale of a lost tooth

under a pillow

is soaking wet from tears

for my many wasted years

up at dawn, with decaffeinated coffee and herbal tea

masada, qumran, enchiladas during break fast at ramadan

ein gedi and a serving of mom’s spaghetti that we are never gonna eat

your heart out

go on, get it all out, laugh at me

i’ll be laughing back from the dark black of a teenage heart attack 

i dreamt a basketball hoop on a roof

running to the edge with all bets hedged 

i often dream of her or you, it’s a rush of lust and a gush of love’s guts 

are all twisted in knots

like the kind used to tie a noose

around your neck is one way to gain some respect

is not a four letter word

on the street is that you’re flying so high you touch the sky

is a weird shade of gray and the sun is just a crack of white

powders, pyrex, and a pipe of glass turned black

paid the piper more than twice just to get it all back 

seat of the car is a teenager falling into the dark trap of an heart attack 

seizures

seizures and fits of melancholy drive me on diesel all the way through this valley

searching for something, anything, to calm my nerves and give me a feeling

that i think i deserve

to be healthy, at least

we long to be happy

but instead we have a feast on thanksgiving day and say grace

ungracefully as we stuff our faces full of tryptophan from turkey

and carbohydrates and such

sometimes living is too much

and it seems just like a promise i have to keep

threatened suicide in a xanax vodka blackout

at a shout or a fever pitch but the question is

did i really mean it? 

i had gotten some bad news via text message 

and lost my shit

is getting normal these days

when the 45th president took the reigns 

it all felt insane

but now the tweets and speeches are mundane 

and this causes me more pain than any thing else

than your absence 

wish i were a cop so i could write you up for truancy

on a relationship you just discarded so cruelly 

the days pass, i wonder if i’ll gain weight in old age

or shrink into nothingness 

but i’ve got my listerine, i’ve got a pack of matches, 

i’ve got a grin to disarm even my worst enemy

is myself 

fagged and fashed

bitters and soda water, she was someone’s sister, mother or daughter

go on and build your wall, i’ll just help to build the ladder 

is it the former or the latter? she’s eating a falafel platter 

as i’m trying not to retch at this table set for three

years ago there is a sad and terrible story to be told

33 years old as of two days ago 

ain’t it a wonder how time can move both fast and slow? 

if you were here i’d dress up in high heels and put on a show

dumb and silly but funny enough to make you laugh that 

wild and wondrous laugh full of beauty and a bit of insecurity 

going through security at jfk i realize i forgot to take out my pocket knife

and razor blade

i’m pulled aside and frisked down as they ask me my name

which doesn’t help

sariya in arabic means a cloudy evening or a realist, iman means faith

and okoye is just a nigerian surname who’s meaning i’ve never known

what it’s like to be an outcast but i used to listen to ‘hey ya’ and dance

with sagging pants that were skinny nonetheless 

i guess i’ve always been into skinny jeans since my teens 

i recall playing bass and singing in a punk band ‘the horrorshow droogs’ 

based on anthony burgess’ language from ‘a clockwork orange’

it meant ‘good friends’ 

with my eyeliner on i’d sing songs 

that now in my old age i mostly forget 

except something with a chorus that went ‘dynamite, dynamite, i’ll blow your mind’ 

and the intro to ‘fagged and fashed’ (also based on burgess’s made up language) 

that went ‘shoot it up and take it off, hurry up i’m taking off, sniff it up, then pop it down, 

before we begin please turn around’ 

and around my head goes 

but not in circles

in figure eights

so my thoughts create a deranged loop that goes on until infinity 

…i suppose you are living proof that i have an affinity for neurotic women

who are about a perfect ten

but just can’t see it

isn’t 

fate

i know

you said you needed space and i violated your wishes

now as i take out the trash and wash the dishes 

i realize, like a mini epiphany, that space frightens me

and lack of closure is terrifying 

either way, i hope you are living your best life sans me 

worth the wait/russell street

made you a mix tape in 2008 or so, didn’t give it to you though

i was too shy so i wrapped it in foil then hid it in a book

when you moved out i hoped you’d find it but maybe that book belonged to alex

i cry for that night with a pout because i did look back

and didn’t see you chasing after me

but you followed me down russell street only you took a different route

than me

happy halloween, happy chanuka, happy new year’s eve and hopefully

2019 will bring you all that you were missing

you 

like crazy

i am crazy i guess

just paying bills, cashing checks- how’s your college debt? 

the novel you sent for my birthday i kept

but i have only read half of it

i’ve been a junkie before but now i’m clean and sometimes it seems a bore

me 

with a story and i’d be so grateful and happy

or tell me about your past, about growing up in philly

about your sisters and your brother, your father spencer and your mother

harriet 

when we were speaking i’d always forget to ask questions important

instead i’d get caught up in your voice, your laugh and the sound of it

all

being great

march 26th is now a holiday, a special date 

where we all thank the woman upstairs for creating such a beauty

of a person

with a name like two different worlds but so beautiful

and your middle name that i never knew

for some strange reason

just the letter 

n

e

ways

bless you and all of your days

and by the way, that mix tape was great

if i do say

so

myself 

all by myself

i toast to your life and health 

while looking at 'testo junkie' on the shelf

and feeling sorry for myself

but more sorry for what i put you through

the

grapevine

i heard you are doing fine

which made me sigh

with relief 

cutting through the bruise and grief

flying from new york city to tucson international 

i counted my blessings backwards until we landed

and i never reached zero

despite your absence

i need a hero

in black tights and thigh high boots

not a cape

to save my heart and take me into the future 

where i pray for a better view and a lovely picture or 

a painting 

on these ceilings like in the sistine chapel

a masterpiece that will be your face in person 

but i’ll settle for a text message 

just type ‘hey’ and i’ll try to wait a day 

before i reply

with a platitude or some crude way

of saying ‘thanks, it was worth the wait’