How could one write about spring
without flirting with beehives
and sunburnt boys who makeout
with beer cans and raven eyed girls

Spring poems don’t exist
if you can’t rhyme sun
with sultry swim suits
that we bought on sale

When December’s pessimism was present
in our christmas letters and batter mixed with
too much egg and not enough eye contact

Y’know, the polka dotted suits sliced into two?
Yes! Those ones! The ones we slid into after school

A stranger’s eyes
dance with mine
as I’m handing him his cash.
But he and his ripped-back pocket
leave before we can exchange numbers.
Before ever getting to say “Hello”.
And like the arrival of time,
he comes as quickly as he goes.
My weary eyes follow him
as he exits through automatic doors
disappearing forever
leaving me behind with a curious heart.
And that’s how life is now.
My eyes dance with a worthy component
but never touching.
People making sure to stay
six feet apart from love,

In the lens of memories.
In Diaspora Palestine,
A photograph reveals-
An uncle with figs
and grapes in his gentle hands.
Amidst an orchard 53 years old.
Blooming with love-

Watered by tears,
of family labor,
in orchard cultivation-
under the sun's warm glow.
It was a haven, a cherished land.

But beyond the lens,
In life’s twisted fate.

By the force of a bomb.
In a land oppressed by those
who believe it’s their right,

Run from America
Hide from the Shooters
Fight the Government
Losing count
Thinking of all the rounds
They fire
Into the classrooms
Kids not knowing
Their typical Monday will be filled with doom
So many lives lost by senseless shooters
I can name a few
Nikolas Cruz
Seung-Hui Cho
Adam Lanza
Schools telling you to
Run from Cruz
Hide from Cho
Fight Lanza
How?
When the sounds of bullets are flying
Hearts are racing
Schools used to be a safe haven

As the Waves roar
You can’t drown out my voice
Working your 9-5
But I’m what’s on your mind
Fall deeper
I’m singing your song
Greek mythology
Turned into real life
Sitting by the waters
Luring you in
Come closer
Pushed by love and sin
This will be an experience
The depths of my mental
Or the waves
Which one will drown you?
My shyness but my confidence
Will be sure to confuse you
So slip beneath the waves
Where you’ll be swept up
By my sweet curse

My body, a slave to a pipe that births nothing but sweet lies.
I inhale her perfume till my dreams and reality are one and the same.
Injecting myself into false promises.
Breathing in lies till my lungs recognize what's real.
Maybe get full off television till I’m drunk with fiction.
But my eyes want more.
They crave an instant fix.
My body desires anything that takes the pain away.
Slays reality.
So I consume more lies.
With each ounce, my stomach grows and my lungs beg for more.
I am what I eat.

Hands. Extending. Anticipating.
Like the sun ready to kiss the moon.
Like the stars beckoning to dance with the sky.
Though night is destined to come,
my hands rise to the sun, knowing they'll be touched.
My heart growls.
Wanting to devour the sweet taste of life.
Savor the crisp of its bite and the warmth of its broth.
But nothing comes.
No stars dance across the bare sky.
No sun warms the cheeks of the moon.
And my hands continue to reach for its savior,
but the sky seems farther away.

Sitting alone with lingering thoughts keeping me company
and a restless feeling that plagues my core.
Springing alive only to torture me.
Drowning my heart in its fluid,
ringing in my ears
till I’m deaf with its sound
and leaves me numb with nothing but
my thoughts and this cursed feeling.
I try to drown it out, plugging tunes in my eardrums.
Getting lost in the melodies but somehow
it finds its way back into my soul.
I try blinding my eyes to its presence
and yet when I wake, it's all that I can see,

Hands.
Brown hands.
Gigantic hands.
Hands that made words fly.
Hands that made the earth quiver in fear
yet, so soft they eased my pain.
And gently carried me like the moon in the sky.
Hands that rocked me to the rhythm of his heart.
Hands that soothed dancing nerves
and comforted a restless mind.
Hands that watched stubby little legs
dance in green fields.
Hands that were stained with joy
and wiped lonely crumbs from a crooked smile,
but continued to eat anyways.
Hands that tanned in the sun

It calls for me, like the moon calling out to the night.
Like the wind howling for the leaves to dance to its every command. Obedient.
I feel its crooked breath as it clings to my neck.
Plaguing my mind as my eyes begin to fade.
Falling slowly into its poisonous hymns.
I can feel the noose tighten as it wraps around my neck, and I begin
to remember the little girl, bearing her trophy.
I try hard to resist. Remembering what it feels like to smile.
The sun kissed my brown skin.
The gentle wind pecks my cheeks till I chuckled.

I’ve got strings in my hands and a mask on my face like Covid 19
All this shit going on, gotta self-quarantine till I get it together
I’m spiraling out of control
I'm tethered to us,
tethered to love,
emotions like drugs
The hardest pill to swallow is I'm addicted
I need it, without you, I'm livid
reliving my worst decisions

I’m 21 years young, but I know more than I should about hard times.
My clock was built with the same sticks and stones that broke my spine.
I long peace of mind. This is a moment in time I desperately need it.
How do I find peace of mind when my mind is in pieces?

They paved a whole section
of road outside my apartment
in less than a day.
I am grateful,
but I am not fooled.

Black is my afro
Black is my grandma’s sweet tea
Black is my Nina
Black is the past
My ancestors were called Negros
Black is reminding whites that they cant say Nigga
In 2023
And them acting triggered
Black is pain
But black is beauty and gain
Breaking the chains
Black is my change
Black is my Usains
Speaking of running
They wonder why we run
When we are
Judged by 5-0 because our skin
Being treated differently because of our
Oppressors sins
Staring at the ocean

Poems about Love and the Lack Thereof
Babe
I’m falling for you
Like a narcoleptic
Down a flight of stairs
Like a dog seizing
From too many stab wounds
I froth at the mouth and quake
Only for your lovin’s sake

Shoot me up one last time
Tap the twisted vein
That starts at my heart
And drowns my bleedin’ brain

Enough of those stupid romance words
You stole from a dime store shelf
Love me in sum
And save up your ten cent plagiarisms
For my downpour

My
brown eyes
glow in wonder
at this porcelain beauty.
I run
stubby fingers across
her tiny frame.
Admiring the
porcelain beauty
before my
big eyes.
And I smile
ear to ear.
Her swirling curls
dancing like stars on a quiet night.
Landing softly.
Each strand
wondrously
made her more beautiful.
Frazzled
dark coils never seem to take light.
Foolishly,
they’re no stranger to me.
No freckle on her powdered face.
No frivolous lines

He kneels on the pale marble floor,
she sits under the harsh white light
and the moment is pregnant with silence.
This house is clouded by a darkening night
and when my father starts to cry
my mother starts to scream.

The tears of hard years
carved mountains and valleys
like wrinkles across his face and hers.

In mending what is eternally broken
they have both shattered
and the rest of us are damaged, collateral

i marvel at pain, how it endures
how this brittle flesh of mine takes and takes
the only sign of its tired state a rough scar

i marvel that these ears have not yet begun to bleed
despite the ugly words they have heard
and this heart, it beats still, though my mind screams for it to

STOP.

how these breaths
come
and
go
and
i only have the strength rallied in a

p a u s e,

Hear the words
chime like bells
around the city.

where
is
god?

bones sprout where flowers
belong; insects crawl over dead
bodies; the fields are flooded
with corpses instead of water.

where
is
god?

the mother has abandoned
her first child; the first child
cradles a baby; a baby’s cries
pierce the air instead of a lullaby.

where
is
god?

Talking with him is an open road with many different journeys
Talking with you is like a conversation with a shadowy figure that is scared to come out into the light

He looks at me as this sweet girl
You look at me as you would a project
But what you both fail to realize is that I am neither
I am not as kind and sweet as you think,
Matter of fact, I am just like you

Beneath this exterior, I am demon too
I am no project
I will never be poked and prodded
To be honest, I can hide just like you
become a mystery too

Not for the first time
nor for the last
He sat alone
filling with remorse
He said to himself,
"Did I blow it?
Did i waste my life
in a frenzy of cocaine,
methamphetamines and Vicodin?"
He waited for an answer
but it never came

A towering shadow of a man is all that is left of him,
one of 18,000 people without a home in Detroit, Michigan.
He blends into buildings and cowers under the feet of passersby,
he is not invisible but camouflages himself among the city streets.
His hair is painted pavement gray,
his skin scarred and pallid.
He lives his life making treasures of others trash,
making homes on donated bench landmarks,
and the sooty, littered asphalt in the city.
He walks as if one leg is shorter than the other

In spring we welcome budding leaves;
With us longing to rest beneath them in summer’s heat.
Then Autumn paints the sky with auburn gems as it takes a noble ‘s seat, And Winter to steal it away with its unseen thieves.

You’re leaving tomorrow  19 years with you right down the street
Tomorrow is far away
so we talk and laugh  like we always do
We try to make the most of the time we have
But today is just like the others
I leave your house late and come back early
Without even noticing  today became tomorrow
with no sleep to divide them
The sun shining bright
but a dark cloud is in our hearts
pouring rain
a sinking feeling inside us
Tomorrow is today
but it doesn’t feel real

My resilience is hard
Like her cold, dead heart.
My skin transforms into diamond.
Like Emma Frost
I’m a Marvel of survival.

I’m so hungry
I’m starving
like children in third world countries
like children in America
but I’m not hungry for her shitty spaghetti
I’m hungry for revenge