Dear Crybaby

There’s a lot about you

Particularly this look you do

With the way you scrunch your face

That makes me want to slap you

Of course there are the times you open your mouth

With these provocative offenses so blatantly said

Just stupid little comments here and there

Not at all careful of the ground you tread

No matter how small or harsh the remark

You feel obligated to mention

As I feel obligated to hold my tongue

Every time you sigh for attention

I’ve done well as far as I can tell

I don’t punch you every time you whine

I just sit there quietly, taking it all

While kicking the shit out of you in my mind

Sometimes I’m smothering you with a pillow

Other times I’m bashing your head into the wall

Then I snap back to reality in disappoint and relief

To realize I’ve imagined it all

No matter the hints people lay out for you

You’re still the dumbass that you are

And so I don’t know what else more I can say

Instead I imagine running you over with my car

I would like to say it’s nothing personal

But we both know that would be a lie

Because there are certain people I cannot stand

And, buddy boy, you’re just that kind of guy.

I Don't Just Dance

I don’t just dance

And prance around this pretty stage

Like a little brown ballerina;

The palm trees taught my hips to sway.

I wear their leaves in my skirt

And flirt with sunlight like they do

With its oil on my skin

So that I not only move,

I shine

Finely in the eyes of those

Who find my brown skin beautiful.

I have the ocean in my veins

And sunshine in my hair,

Playing in my curls,

And though I don’t have that cocoa blend

My ancestors did,

I am Polynesian

And nobody can say that I’m not.

I don’t just dance

To take my stance on a dashboard;

I move to the rhythm you hear

And I feel.

With my body I translate my culture

So that you better understand

Where I come from

And what my side of the world is like,

With our little islands and big hearts

Where we sway and shake and stomp,

Passing our traditions to our children

And showing those who’ll watch

That we don’t just dance.

Stoopid Boy

I have a certain affection

In a little section of my heart

Much like an infection

For a tart

Sweet as a peach

But dumb as a brick

Sick enough to inflict

Every sadness

To get his eyes wet

And play a part

In the game of pain

And heartache.

Though you feel the need

To spread your seed

Filling the holes of the soulless

I can’t tell you what to do

So I sit back and watch

You live by your crotch

Adding another notch to your belt

And welt to your name

Losing your pride

You grow emptier inside

Until you’re all dried up

Wondering why

It feels like you’re dying

Because you are

Spartan

Thickened leathers tighten within a calloused grip

Masking traces of brocaded scars long healed

Mars against the swell of bronzed muscle

Contoured by the shadow of a bulky shield

Piercing eyes penetrate through a battered helm

A clenched jaw barely visible underneath

Crimson is smeared across once smoothed alloy

As an eager sword plunges through a foreign sheath

The ground quakes at the sudden weight of death

Drenched with the rancor of fresh blood

Discolored flesh welcome the last adversary

A slain army lies stagnant in the mud

Your Objection

The condescending tones of your voice

Welded into the heat of your overt glare

At what I thought was my own choice

Are why I am both deaf and blind

At you being there

Fumbling for problems you can’t find.

The dialogue of your discord never falters

Still I sullenly turn my back to it all.

We’re both accused as our relationship alters

Because as constructive as your criticism

You have become the reason I fall

Unto the opposing end of this schism.

I brood over the doubts you’ve planted

And the objections you’ve so righteously spat

Unimpressed by the expectations you’ve ranted

A pleasure provoking so much unnecessary guilt

Should I thank you for that?

While you subconsciously wait for my will to wilt.