The Premium Wash, Rinse, and Drive

I hadn't gone to one of these since I was young.
I knew what to expect.
I suppose I didn't.

My car rolled slowly into the automated wash,
and I parked it, ready for my five minute-
Super Saiyan snooze.

The water was calming, and drizzled down the side,
and I watched it, suddenly fascinated by
the light it reflected.

It reminded me of...
something.
I closed my eyes.

A sudden roaring sound,
and I was alert, hands at the wheel
10'o clock and 2'o clock respectively, at the ready.

It was the spinning washers,
blue and snakeline, circling above my windshield
seemingly consuming the window on the driver's side.

It was a storm, it seemed,
that swallowed whole my view of the world,
that drowned it in grey soap and multi-colored car wax.

Was it adrenaline?
Or some unknown glamour that had gripped me?
I don't know, but it was exhilarating, and somehow even

Here, in this man-made cave,
I found my inner child, filled with wonder at the sudden
change in her world.  Suffocating claustrophobia, uncertain

where the world had gone.

Then the rain - the water came and washed away the worry.
Then the wind came and cleared my sight.
And somehow, we came out alright.

Sunflowers

Lined against the wooden fence,

a row of corn and sunflowers stood

defiantly, refusing to bow

to the heat of day.

I strolled along the perimeter of the garden

running my hand

along yellow squash

and zucchini blossoms,

and looked into 

the golden eye

of one of the awesome giants.

I peered up into it.

It peered down into me.

I lowered my eyes,

smiled,

and continued on.

Disenchanted Patriot

Okay, I'm sitting in class
and the room is dark
and the others are quiet,
listening to the man
                             with long hair
                             and bitter smile
speak.

Okay, I'm sitting in class
and we're watching the prospectors
skewer children like sick livestock
and steal away their homes
                                         with illegal contracts
                                         and toothy smile.

Okay, I'm sitting in class
watching the hidden genocide
unfold on the ground beneath my feet
centuries old -

Okay - so, I'm writing down -
 on torn, crumpled paper -
in blood
the history of this great nation
                                             with broken heart
                                             and bitten tongue.



*************************************
This poem was my attempt to reconcile with the fact that truly - this nation, the United States of America, was built upon the bloodied bodies and burdened shoulders of, not only my own African ancestors, but of the indigenous peoples of America as well. 

Especially after learning about the American Indian genocide in California - my home - which was a centuries-long attempt to eradicate the indigenous culture and to subjugate completely those whose land was stolen from them, I have been struggling with my allegiance to such a country as this one, one which I wish to raise up to what it could be... but one which I also want to expose to its populace, those who don't know the full extent of this history, or do not wish to contemplate the implications of this country's actions on our present-day lives.

It isn't much, but I hope the fact that its been on my mind, and that it won't leave my mind for decades to come I'm sure, is solace that the disgusting acts perpetrated against indigenous populations has not been forgotten.  I hope that remembering it publicly will at the very least be a first step in the right direction.

http://www.pbs.org/indiancountry/history/calif.html

Thirty-Seven Minutes to Close

Watching the legislature run wild,
each side scurrying to silence
 - with violent agility of tongue -
the other,
I wait and wonder

what will become of that unborn child
who sits unwanted
or dying
or threatening death to its host?

I wonder what will become of that woman
a victim of rape
a victim, who must carry the living memory
of her pain

And I - feeling monthly reminders
of my femininity

wonder what will become of my right
my freedom
to be the sovereign of my own body.

Here, where we question
the value of life not begun
we forget those historical chains
which patriarchy had thrown around
the uterus,
                had extracted from it
                dowries and heirs,
                had turned the living woman
                into a decorative safe
the uterus,
                a commodified asset.

we forget that
that which carries life,
lives -

what will become of my baby?
what will become of me?
what will become of me...

*****************************************

Here is the livestream for the filibuster going on in the Texas State Senate, to oppose a sweeping anti-abortion bill.  Watch here! ----> http://rhrealitycheck.org/video/2013/06/25/live-video-texas-state-sen-wendy-davis-filibusters-anti-abortion-bill/?upworthy

Where The Sun Rests

I wanted to go away
into the crevices of the
Bald Mountain,
and lay my skin bare against
the Sun's fingertips

and feel the light pierce through
my flesh
and explode my heart
into a thousand glittering stars
spread out across the wind.

I wanted to sit in little tufts of grass
and make myself small
between the pebbles on the cliff,
to look up - amazed -
at the ribbons of glowing white

that fell between the cracks
and wrapped themselves around my waist.

I wanted to open myself
and become the vessel of sunbeams;
earthen irises, stained glass
of this living cathedral.  Here,
this forbidden place,
where heathen gods and ancient wisdom
reside.

I wanted to go,
but some little devil told me no.


*****************
Below is a spoken word version of the poem (i.e. performed :3)!

Nowhere to Hide Dirty Laundry

I've nowhere to hide my dirty clothes
which sit in a pile to the right.

I swept them underneath my bed,
but somehow they fell back into view.

I pushed them behind my desk,
extinguished odor with scented candlelight.

Still, somehow, the unwashed pants and panties,
the self-disappointment and anguish
and slips

refuse to stay hidden.

I always find the pile, growing ever larger
in the center of my floor;
the sight becomes evermore difficult
to ignore.

"After Hours" Jazz Combo

Instead of posting my regular, weekly poem today, I want to showcase an awesome jazz ensemble named "After Hours", made up of four very talented Cal State San Bernardino students!

On Saturday, from about 6pm to 8pm, I had the pleasure of listening to them play wonderful jazz tunes like "Girl from Ipanema" and "Michelle" as I attended an Art Gallery showcase and silent auction at the City of Pomona's dA Center for the Arts.

With their trumpet player, bassist, guitarist, and drummer, this jazz quartet helped to perfect the already extraordinary atmosphere, setting the mood with a cool, Latin vibe that had the various art patrons snapping

their fingers as they sipped wine and bid on the showcased collection, a variety of sculptures and paintings made by amateur and professional alike.

It was a wonderful experience to be able to watch the "After Hours" jazz ensemble and to see the works of local artists; often, we are so bombarded by huge celebrities like Alicia Keys, Bruno Mars and -- *shudders* One Direction (I don't like them very much, myself :3), that we forget to take the time to celebrate our local talent.

If you live in the Inland Empire (Southern California), and are having an event in the future where you'd like some jazzy, artsy music to really set the mood for your evening, definitely consider the "After Hours" Combo!

I have some videos of their performance, but sadly, my phone has decided not to work for me today lol.  Check out my Facebook page, The Lackadaisical Firefly.  When the universe decides that it's time for my videos to upload lol, they will upload here!