My First Love Poem In A Long Time

I don't know how to tell you this, but I hate you
I want to crush you between my fingers
Suffocate you and bury your soul
Take your spirit and tie it up

I want to possess you
I want to obsess over you
I want to feel something when I see you
I want to mark your body when we make love

Your movements are obscene
Unwelcomed actions violate my space
Catastrophe follows your every step
Destruction plagues the very thought of you

I hate your eyes
I hate your smile
I hate your hands
I hate your face

You make me want to become tangled up with you
Grit my teeth everything I give into you
Brevity is beautiful with you
Simply stated, I love you

In response to Alix Olson's "That the protagonist is always a man" poem

That mothers are being sold
That Asian mothers are being sold
That Asian sisters are wanting to be sold
That everyone loves an Asian Girl

That exotic is the new black
That my computer spell-checks "exoticization"
That it's okay for outsourcing "her"

That Michelle Malkin may consider herself one of "us"
That she "feels ashamed of her parent's native homeland"
That she "fells ashamed of her people"
that she looks like "us"

That we justify our war in Iraq to save the women
That patriarchy is justified

That Maganda and Malakas still justify beauty and strength in genderized roles
That Maganda isn't lalake
That Malakas isn't babae

That white is gold, that pale is god, that dark is dirty

That the yahoo results for "asian bridge" still comes up with mail-order bride sites
That Asian sistas still believe that it's okay to sell yourselves
That sistas still sell themselves

That our government still allows our ovaries to be controlled by laws.
That our governor said, "girly man"
That our vagina's are being sown shut

That.

That is why I am a feminist.

Alix Olsen: Subtle Sister

So we’ve learned karate,
carry knives on our runs
wield words like weapons
prepare glares-like hidden guns,
we’ve deconstructed, demystified
tried retribution, remythologized,
we’ve been diagnosed with your diseases,
and still tried pleases, tried tears, tried Jesus.

You wanna see what it’s like down here
in this pool of someone else’s rules, well
jump in, take a swim or just sit in this pit
squishing bare toes in someone else’s bullshit,
we do it all the time.

Still we’ve tried being patient,
collected, calm, nice
trying praying, tried laying you
paying the price,
we’ve learned to scream
until our throats throbbed
what else do you do
while your cunt’s being robbed.

And they say “you’ve made progress, girls,
take a rest in-between”
but see while you’re resting,
someone else is progressing,
it’s what i’ve seen.
So i take back the whispers,
the cute mute act,
and the high pitched giggles, yeah
i take them back,
i won’t avoid your stare, evade your step,
nothing of that kind,
won’t help you help me victimize
the only space that’s mine.

See now I’d put my life on the line just to see them trip,
frown and say “funny love, i never saw you slip.”
i say, “my life on the line-”
you say “man, she’s jaded.”
i say, “maybe control’s overrated.”
like when we cackled, they called us witches,
now we don’t giggle they call us bitches
well I’m cacklin loud, taking it back, full of hiss,
cacklin loud, cackling proud now.

And they’re getting nervous with this kissing each other,
scratching their heads,
whats going on brother
and they yell feed your husband, stop feeding the fire!
and we just cackle,
we’re a fuckin witches choir.
and we sing “sharpen your knives, sharpen your daughters
steam up the mirrors, bake us some dreams,
cook up some riots, fry up some screams,
and when you’re sick of your skirts
slice open the seams
cause they want domestics,
theyll give us needle and thread
for patching their egos.
we’ll sow revolution instead.”

And i hear you saying
“subtle, sister,
less bite, more bark
you can make your point without leaving such a mark.
subtle, sister,
stop your seething,
i think we got it, i think we’re even:”

subtle like a penis pounding its target?
subtle like your hissing from across the street?

subtle like the binding on my sisters’ feet?
subtle like her belly raped with his semen,
draped in his fuck, funny,
doesn’t seem even.

See, sometimes anger’s subtle, stocked in metaphor
full of finesse and dressed in allure
yes, sometimes anger’s subtle, less rage than sad
leaking slow through spigots you didn’t know you had.
and sometimes it’s just

fuck you.
fuck you.
you see, and to me,

That’s poetry too.

Learning = Conflict;; Conflict = Learning

Young supple breed of familiarity
Branding hold against her skin
Poisoned by receptivity, enamored by normality
She beckons the call

Diamonds become rubies
She beckons the call
Driving onward into the horizon
Confusion was always a great shadow

Shadows become companions
Companions become lovers
Lovers lose autonomy
Shadows become her

In the shadows, she gave into her id
Actions that forebode an undesired archetype
Harsh words that foreboded division
She manifested into traffic

Driving insanity to a new destination
Destined into reality, she succumbed to her poison
The touch of insanity never tasted so good until now
She beckons the call

Driving her crazy she drives on
Pass streets she’s never heard of before
Coming into her mind’s labyrinth
You’re not expecting her
And she doesn’t even know why she came

Sit alone awhile
Come to possible conclusions of
A series of hypothetical events
As it unfolds, she meditates

She realizes tonight’s reactions
Are tomorrow’s passive aggressions
The idea distances itself from reality
So does her car

Maybe this is her time
Rubies become diamonds
She returns back home
Yet, she hardly recognizes it as home

She smiles, closes her eyes and succumbs
Methodically ready, she moves to the line
Picket sign in hand, familiarity by her side
She beckons the call.

Any Questions?

Why is the blue sky?
Why does grey skies depress people?
Why is yelling perceived as bad?
Why don't people talk in elevators?
Why do we listen to beats more than lyrics?
Why would you superman that hoe?
Why are you pussy patrolling my vajayjay?
Where are the bouncers in the club when males are harassing females?
Where are the women who pay for men's drinks in the club?
Where are the Asian sistas on top model?
Where are the Asian sistas who marry white guys?
Where are the Asian folks on TV?
Where are the folks who scream for a change?
Where are the folks screaming to be heard?
Where are all folks screaming for our young people?
Where were you when your Asian sistas get raped?
Where were you when your Asian sistas get sold?
Where are all the protesters of the war?
Where are all the protesters of bush?
When can I call you my brotha?
When can I call you my sista?
When can I rely on you to scream?
When can I rely on you to rely on me?
When Can I say that I am proud to be an American?
When can I say that I fought for your safety?
When can I not be afraid to walk around at night?
when can I not be afraid to get drunk in a club?
When can I call you my brotha?
When can I call you my sista?
How do we not get 'caught up'?
How do we plan on saving lives?
How do we plan on being a better person?
How do we plan on marching together?
How do we know it's a better place?
How do we live without war?
How do we live without peace?
How do we learn without war?
How do we learn without struggle?
How do we learn without teaching?
How do we learn without peace?
How do we learn without hurting?
How do we learn without being uncomfortable?

Why don't we ask more questions?

I do what I do because of what we do...

keeps me sigh'in

My Sunday Morning

Switch on the TV in hopes it's in color
They say, Asians don't need color TV's
They say we don't need it
because everyone, everything, every channel is still in black & white.

Reach for my energy drink
It doesn't give me any more energy then sex on a cool day
It doesn't do anything for me
because i'm looking for substance in sustenance form

Today proves to be a difficult one from the getgo
Today, gravity just seems to work against me
So, i'm bouncing from idea to idea
Like a chicken with it's head chopped off

Rearrange my body, turning over in hopes of another hour
Rearrange my thoughts, maybe I can lie myself outta this one
Rearrange my hands, maybe I can sex myself back into sleep
Rearrange my thoughts, maybe i should wake up


it's Wednesday

Cat got my tounge

In light of recent events
I need to apologize
My tounge was caught in a state of shock
A momentary lapse of concentration

My tounge was temporarily out of service
It took a leave of absence
sick leave
Sick of work

Hoping to project itself into the cranium
Hoping/waiting/rejuvenating
Hoping that ESP would be enough to stop a war
Hoping that for once an army would come

nothing.
nothing happened
nothing would ever happen
not like this

for this reason, i picked up my guitar
not knowing how to play
I stummed the strings to chords in my lungs
I sang, even though I couldn't fathom how to and why

Can I sing for you?

Desperately searching for an honest answer
baby takes her momma's hand and walks along the street
momma's trying to buy you a mocking bird
mocking all the sadness in our lives, because...
because sometimes, times like these need laughs

If that mocking bird don't sing
momma's gonna buy you some time
time to create your own stage
your own voice/rhythm/rhyme/time

If that voice/rhyme don't work
momma's gonna take the time to love you still
The song's incomplete but baby holds on tight to her momma's hand
The strings of the guitar vibrate and pass the guitar on

Are you strong enough to sing with me?