Poem 2 revision the system

System we endure
Unknowingly put in place long before
Systematic oppression
Praised by impoverished as a blessin
Single mother you're qualified
Except one thing
Child's Fathers name you have to hide
So you obey and abide
By the rules
This income serves as substitution
As easy way out
Not a permanent solution
Called benefits yet you suffer
Ruled by desperation
Stagnant nation
Ran by the administration
So you fill out hundreds of applications
 all lined up early morning
Lines wrapped around the blocks
Like ants in an ant farm
Clawing at a piece of this decaying pie
Content with subpar conditions
This entitled mentality
Contradicted by  begging and pleading
For continuation and no sanctions
It's not up to you
Your own fate
Realizations for many come too late
Hour glass once filled with sand now empty
Contributing to your own demise
You lay stagnant
Reluctant to advance
For some they never had a chance

Poem VI Part II

The trains glide so cleverly

The conductors must be magicians

Two trains meet at the track

All while not crashing into one another

Tracks laid down like puzzle pieces

Carefully placed, calculating every single space

Graffiti lines the walls, brands and tags

Of this Underground museum

Art on display

Artists of the jungle

Underground world hidden beneath the surface

Hobos seek refuge from the brutality outside

Riding carts become cubbies

Wooden benches their mattresses

Stations their rooms

Subway maps their wallpaper

Train announcements their alarm clocks

“Stand clear of the closing doors please”

“The next stop is…”

This house constantly moves

The inhabitants nomads

Awakened by the sudden jerking motion

Gliding over land, and sea

Connected by bridges to each borough

Transport requires such coordination

Yet elevators still reek of urination

The Result Small Revisions Poem 6

My eyeballs fixate on the wall across from me

Tick, tock, tick, tock

 As the Little hand chases behind the big one

Minute hand,

hour hand

Isn’t it time yet?

I think to myself.

On the wall once white now stained with hints of brown

The foam from the seat I’m seated in

Spills out of the cushion

Exposed like my naked body was the nights before

My Heartbeat fast like the Congo drum

My hands clammy, slips and slides

Softens the calluses that line my palms

They slide like butter now against each other

Sweat droplets gather in my dark moist crevice

My vaginal cave filled with his stalagmite

Back in the room

Our Feet and thighs shake

We all sit here lined up,

brave souls await their fates

“Next!”

The nurse’s voice blares like police sirens

Painful, startling like nails dragging across a chalkboard

The pungent smell of alcohol swabs and hand sanitizer burns through the hairs in our nostrils

with each swing open of the door

My stomach churns and bubbles

Finally,

she walks over to me

I wonder who will be next

Curiosity

 like duck, duck goose

Duck she walks past

Duck she walks past another

Goose! I am chosen

She hands me a white paper

It’s folded over

My fate on the other side

My mind revisits the question

“What will you do if it comes back positive?”

Suddenly my mind ponders to all the “one night stands”

Passion turned horror film

When I allowed strangers deep inside my most vulnerable places

Exchange of saliva as our lips part

Our tongues dance

As we Desperately race to “come”

Exchange of bodily fluids as he

 prods and pokes at my interior

he unloads in me, fills my emptiness

Pubic hairs tough like brillo pads rubbing against grease lined dishes

My cavity his sink

I bathe in him

I envision the seminal fluid swimming in my womb

Vibrant and full of life

Their goal conception

Their destination the egg

Navigating through my cervix

Circling my ovaries

Our act like Russian roulette

But was the gun loaded or empty that night?

Only this paper will tell

The Result Poem 6

My eyeballs fixated on

The hands of the clock ticking almost deafens me

Tick, tock, tick, tock

Little hand chases behind the big one

Minute hand, hour hand

How much time has passed?!

Isn’t it time yet?

I think to myself.

On the wall once white now stained with hints of brown

The foam from the seat I’m seated in

Spilling out of the cushion

Exposed like my naked body was the nights before

Heart beating fast like the Congo drum

My hands clammy, slipping and sliding

Softening the calluses that line my palms

They slide like butter now against each other

Sweat droplets gather in dark moist crevices

Like stalagmites dripping from caves

Feet and thighs shaking

We all sit here lined up,

brave souls awaiting their fates

“Next!”

The nurse’s voice echoes in our ears like sirens

Painful, startling like nails dragging across a chalkboard

The pungent smell of alcohol swabs and hand sanitizer burns through the hairs in my nostrils

My stomach churns and bubbles with each swing open of the door

Finally, she walks over to me

Wondering who will be next

Curiosity like duck, duck goose

Duck she walks past

Duck she walks past another

Goose! I am chosen

She hands me a white paper

It’s folded over

My fate underneath on the other side

My mind revisits the question

“What will you do if it comes back positive?”

My mind ponders to all the “one night stands”

I allowed strangers deep inside my most vulnerable places

Exchange of saliva as our lips part

Our tongues dance

Desperately racing to “come”

Exchange of bodily fluids as he

 prods and pokes at my interior

Unloading in me, filling my emptiness

Pubic hairs tough like brillo pads rubbing against each other’s sweat soaked groins

I envisioned the seminal fluid still full of life swimming in my womb

Their goal conception

Their destination the egg

Navigating through my cervix

Our act like Russian roulette

Was the gun loaded or empty that night?

Only this paper will tell

Moments revised poem4

Poem4 Moments

Every time I see children

Their little conversations make me laugh too

So I want to laugh along with them and join in

To re-experience these small moments

That I took for granted

Like when I was

Climbing tree trunks like one of the boys

Trying so desperately to keep up

Me so small

Trekking behind my big brothers like an energetic Chihuahua

Scuffed knees didn’t faze me as I played through tearing scabs

I thought I was invincible

Busted knees, scratches and splinters was my norm

I smelled of Neosporin, A&D ointment and bandages

The kind with the kiddy patterns on them

I wanted my brothers to know that I too could hang

Anything you can do I can do better

“Girls go to college to get more knowledge

Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider!”

Those words left our lips as we always competed

Hand clapping games at recess

That’s all that mattered

At school stink bombs went off in the bathroom

Rancid sulfuric rotten egg smelling

As we all held our noses

Our teachers looked for the culprit

 Unable to find those

Mischievous little trouble makers

The same ones who’s spit wads stuck to the ceiling

They were made of several sheets of that brown recycled paper towel

Just the right amount of sticky soap

And Water, lots of it

But all us kids knew

 and we’d giggle till our bellies felt that they would surely burst

and it’s that uncontrollable laughter that kept us alive

I smelled of funnel cake, candy corn and cotton candy

So sweet, bees would follow me for I was their treat

 and I’d be busy trying to swat them off

At Coney Island I would make my sand castles with my favorite shovel and pail

Then I found out I could bring the ocean home with me

My bag full of a variety of seashells

I would listen into the shells my face and ear pressed up against it

And I’d be back at the beach once again

I would ride the Ferris wheel up to the tippy top

Overlooking all the people resembling ants

My dear mother by my side, with her I was fearless

Stress free I was careless

The red cart was my favorite, so I’d wait patiently for it to come back down

At the park I would swing and swing so high

No limits with hopes of reaching the sky

Feet back, feet forward, feet back, feet forward

And I would frolic through the freshly fallen leaves

Water droplets so neat glazing their exteriors

And I would collect them

Searching for the “crispiest” one
Red and juicy as an apple

The next month I would become a snow angel,

Hiding behind snow forts, a neighborhood warzone

Girls against boys, best friends against neighbors

I would put a cup outside my window to collect fresh snow

Then I’d bring it inside and put milk and sugar in it

I always admired snowflakes, there’s this funny thing about ‘em

Where when they’re falling in groups you can barely spot their individual beauty

Their astonishing shapes and patterns I would only notice when a single one fell on my face

There’s beauty in numbers they say

But these snowflakes were even better alone

Sheets of snow pasted against the cars

Their glitter shining

Then the snow would clear and the birds would chirp

The dreaded bugs would come back

And life started all over again

These cycles in repeat makes me question whether or not there really is an end

Life in the Melting Pot Poem 5

Living in the Melting Pot

We all are in the same place

Yet headed to separate destinations

But, how different are we really?

I hear different native tongues and dialects

How they roll of the tongue so smoothly fascinates me

Intrigued by this foreign sound

So many cultures

& Religious affiliations

Every continent now brought to one country

They say NYC is a “melting pot”

And now I can see why

You know the way when you put your stew pot on the stove to cook

How when the contents start boiling over when the flame is turned up too high

The ingredients all blended together

Only this fusion creates the perfect meal

For it’s our differences that make us unique

As tasty and as brilliant as that stew made up of many things

Every part of this dish stemming from different parts of the globe

People serve as seasonings

Tomatoes from Canada

Chiles from Mexico

Cassavas from Africa

Bok Choy from China

Potatoes from Idaho

Spice from India

Sweet Potatoes from Puerto Rico

Chicken from that Halal Live Poultry meat Market

I too am an ingredient in this pot that makes up the delicious “stew”

An important aspect not to be overlooked

It’s our uniqueness that makes this country great

That allows it to operate and thrive and be alive

This diversity works for me

This is the place that I want to be

Poem 3 with revisions Unfamiliar Face Shared Place

Poem 3 Revised Unfamiliar Face

There’s this person with an eerie resemblance

Eyes staring right into my soul

Back from that mirror on the wall

Splitting image

We move in unison

She copies my movements

Were so much alike

Yet I still feel far away

I am two in my own way

My own thoughts obstacles

One vessel harboring two ages

Yet were one

Except from two time zones

A reminder of my past

Of who I once was

She’s been hiding underneath all these layers of “protection”

Like clothes

I strip it off, that extra baggage

Like I’m taking off heavy winter coats as summer approaches

The weight became too much to bear

The sun reflected off that mirror

Burning straight through my “coat”

Skin clammy and pruney

I see her through me

She’s only visible

Heat burn like when you rub your skin against the rug

Who is she?

The old me?

She’s been in captivity in my own body

Now I’m aged twenty-three

But she still follows me

Always there like a shadow