MUSINGS OF AN MVP

  Photo source: Canva When I die, I want them to read my poems at the service. Since I was a child, The question drove me wild. No one had an answer, I was afraid to ask again: What is the purpose of a birthday? Is it to celebrate surviving? A mad life in a mad world, One more year— Is that the real victory? Or is it reflecting on where I have been a nd  where I need to go? Not to wander off my path, Even though I might stagger, Forward thinking, past leaving, Past staying where I do not belong, Passing by the fear that once inflamed my insecurities. They tried to kill me a few times, I prayed day and night, Until each battle was won. A pensive poet permeated from my personality. I chose to love her. To love the words that pour out of her. Listen close, I am also learning t o listen close. I hope to see another year, On my way to rest in peace. Until then, I will count my blessings.

She is a Black queen Her brown skin came from the earth Every scarlet dawn she returns to the earth And with the orange dusk she returns home Toiling and tilling in the hot, lazy yellow sun To grow yellow mealies for her little kiddies They return home every day with some new shade of dirt They are also returning to earth Perhaps the young ones know when life is grey too Her big heart is full of gold Which she gives away freely They all take a little piece The hulk black man she calls a husband expects a colorful meal every day Expects her to be ready for him every night Unconcerned with cousin Red, he will not wait for her to leave All he wants is the warm pink that welcomes him The color purple seems to be hers now Beautiful chocolate skin shaded with baggy violet glasses She says sleep is for the virgin girls and deflowered girls Roaming the streets in their rainbow outfits partying endlessly Returning home at midnight blue Clear and brown liquor steadily...

Emotions finally ascribed on paper That I said I would reveal later Perhaps in person or in a letter Or when I decided I feel better After learning that love was no trick It can crumble walls brick by brick Your muscular frame has an affectionate hold And each day in it I grew a little less cold At first I failed to see What was right in front of me This love was only physical This was just your ritual You chased many and many of us had not run Instead we were hypnotized like you are Venus’ son Angry and unimpressed my friends witness More and more of my identity crumble to weakness Falling once more into your strong arms All my hopes cleverly disguised in your charms Patiently I wait for you to become different Convinced your true feelings would soon be evident I sacrificed all my prayers for you And did everything you asked me to What have you done for me lately? x

Just as last week was coming to a close, I got a surprising and exciting phone call that made me do a three minute happy dance in my room. Several months ago I entered a poem entitled "Open Secret," which is about sexuality and the taboo that surrounds discussing it in our Malawian/African context to a Poetry and Short Story Competition hosted by Makewana's Daughters and they called to inform me that I had won 2nd place in the Poetry category!  Their website has some great content from women  and it was inspiring to read such intimate and vivid work as I reviewed my own trying to figure out what I was going to submit. I spent days going over my poems, editing and shortlisting options. I usually enjoy that part of the process though it comes with stress. The stress of having to pick the "right" or "perfect" poem. The stress of seeing unfinished poems, one liners and cheesy poems that should never see the light of day. The stress of realizing that I don...

My heart is a great blank acrylic canvas Cold and cream Rough around the seams Yet tender to touch Then I saw you approach   With your mahogany brush Oh you visual delight come and paint me Just don’t hate me when you know me Paint me your blues I am sad like you boo Paint out for me the abscess in your heart made by an absent father Paint me your red when you rage set ablaze your emotions Show me your blood as it boils looking at my body Our passion is wine and I am drunk in love Oh you visual delight come and paint me Just don’t hate me when you know me Paint me your golden eye I want to absorb your wise ways My loyalty to your royalty has never been replaced You stimulate my strength Paint me your greens that you love spending Yet hate to pay the price Eat or inhale our veg delight We must have our daily intake This is no mistake Oh you visual delight come and paint me Just don’t hate me when you know me Paint me pink...