Bathroom Tiles
There’s something ‘bout the bathroom tiles
and how they feel against my skin.
The soothing, crisp, and cooling touch
that grounds me when I’m caving in.
I love the click that breaks my clutch;
my fingers slipping, losing grip
From the doorknob and falling while
I try to catch some oxygen.
My head absorbs the morbid knock
that greets it when I’m pushing down
The wall and heaving ugly breaths
through fingers so there isn’t sound.
The air is broken by my chest
that quivers when my heart is pound
-ing, drowning out my mental block
as I find comfort on the ground.
Ghazal: Get Lost
As our world expands and our cultures spread, so does our knack for black, and we’re gonna
get loose.
And I don’t got much of consultation on my lack of black, so I’m gonna
stay loose.
I was never right from the time that I could talk, even when I’m with my family I am different with
my thoughts.
Growin’ up I had tons of people in and out my ears tryna crack a black, stressin’ I’m “gonna
get loose.”
I fear that I veered away from what society thought of me—track the fact, a multiple
anomaly.
Honestly, I am lame even when they’re all the same. I am the wackest black; guessin’ I’m gonna
stay loose.
No room for the brothas with the dirty hungry hands, out there dancing on the street, and counting
cocaine rubber bands. (I’m not a fan.)
And I’m guessing that I have to take a stand against the track for blacks, and I’m gonna
get loose.
Never ever catch with some new school sucker stuck on some disrespectful shit ‘cause I am on
another
Leveling planes and making my plans—tryna hijack the black, so I’m gonna
stay loose.
Fighting to set the record clear, givin’ ‘em what they wanna hear, changing to make myself adhere
but now I’m tired of that.
Doubling down on troubled peers, using past fear just to attack the black—but I’m gonna
get loose.
Faced with so many different paths, wondering which one is the best, ‘cause it’s not clear where I’ll
last—wanna overcome that.
People say choices are so vast, but there’s a difference between facts and black, so we gotta
stay loose.
We gotta keep an open mind or else we’ll be dealing with the tax of tact—yeah, we gotta
get loose.
And I, Amiyuh, think it’s best if we deter from simply tacking blacks ‘cause we gotta
stay loose.
Mercy Mother
From the time that I was born, I’ve been at your mercy, mother.
I am the brunt of your jokes and your worries’ scapegoat.
So, I ask that you would extend to me some mercy, mother.
If I could, considerately, beg you for mere mercy, mother.
I’m second to your will; I’m the corpse your looks killed.
Like God does for you, deliver me your mercy, mother.
Would you be kind enough to think of me with mercy, mother?
You’re like Jekyll and Hyde; loving you’s a wild ride.
Plenty of times I find myself wishing for mercy, mother.
Please, don’t hurt me, mother; I just need some mercy, mother.
In your hands I’m unwell—you can call me Ishmael
The way you desert me without any ounce of mercy, mother.
Sometimes I think that I am almost given mercy, mother.
I am Job with all my suffering; feel like Judas when it gets to me
And I wonder: Am I giving you enough mercy, mother?
I love you and I save for you my mercy, mother.
Your hold on me’s titanic, causing me to sink in panic,
But I’ll hold the door for you and dwindle at your mercy, mother.
We’re Falling Down
And when we all fall down, there is no saving us;
Upon the earth living life is nothing pleasant
And one must become their borrowed dust.
And when we all fall down, there is no saving us.
No time for threadbare In God We Trust,
Because, in turmoil, we are complacent.
And when we all fall down, there is no saving us;
Upon the earth living life is nothing pleasant.
