The following was written, after someone asked me the pointed question: "So, who are you, really?"
Between Fractured Verse and Poetry
I co-exist with bits
And pieces of me,
I am the stuff of
Fractured verse
And poetry.
Open door and barbed-wired fence,
Comic relief,
And dramedy.
Half-Asian eyes and Negroid lips
Half-conscious Hip-Hop,
Part Jazz purist. I
Breathe in rhythms
And gasp through lungs
That pace and race thru
Conflicted emotions.
All heart
And bone
And bullshit parts
Chronic bum, and work of
Art… I am
Full of soft blues
And vivid reds, and
Could use a little more
Green…
I am full of visions and
Still-born dreams,
Pristine memories,
Joy and Pain…
Thick with quiet
Words and screaming
Silence
Muted expression
And hovering
Violence...
Full of stars losing
Their vital shine
Like black holes
Dead… or slowly
Dying.
But I co-exist with
Bits of me
And sure-footedness pimps
My uncertainty.
Half-broken man,
Part ravenous child,
Fed on cannibis,
Muse and an innate
Dose of wildness.
Part reticent kid,
And verbose man… I am
Contradiction’s poster child.
Behind this gaze
Behind the maze
Inside this flesh
A primal haze
Of fear and bravery
Freedom and slavery
I am all of these...
And you can't save me...
From these
No trespass signs and
Barbed-wired
Fences protecting me
And what’s mine. I am
This selfish work,
Of complex parts.
A Cosmic dancer
A work of
Black Art
So just
Scratch the
Surface…and you’ll find
A piece of me and
My partial heart…
Lodged somewhere
Between tears...snot
And fits of laughter
Between
Coltrane bleats...
And emotions fractured
Upon my tongue
In stuttered verse and
Still-born riffs of
Poetry.
One.
copyright © 2010 by L.M. Ross
