You’re Not White.

to secure his pockets

he told you that you were in a race

so you started running

for a fictitious finish line


by capitalistic


and centuries later,

you’re still running.



sometimes i burn the bacon

and you wake up too late

and the dog wont get up

though he only has this window of opportunity

before we head out to hectic days


sometimes we wake up with

gold weight on our heads

and before the crust is gone

we argue over what is gone

and sometimes

we don’t wanna get up at all

tangles in limbs

climbing some beanstalk

but every time

is a good time

Salt of the Sea

Wow. Logging in and looking around this blog for me right now is like coming home after a stint in jail. Which I did not suffer through, I simply got caught up in life.

I have been writing, and now that it’s summer I’ll begin to type up and post them. This first piece is a poem from The GLWI writing workshop for teachers – which has considerably less writing than I had hoped. It’s a poem modeled after “Where I’m From” and I got to read it to the entire workshop – which was more exciting than you’d think.


Without further ado….



I am from red Kool-Aid fruit cups.

From Mother Key Byrd’s church hats

greater than Colossus

with lace and feathers and

little birds on the fancier ones.

From japchae and kimchi and

white funeral dresses.

From the Mason Dixon line that separates Manors from Section 8,

I am from apartment complexes

Which held cousins and aunts and

I am from the salt of the sea.

Tears washed from Halmony as she stood by the river in Seoul

mingled with those of my wailing mothers

crossing the middle passage.

I’m from “love who you want”

fuck tradition.

From an Irish boy who

fell in love with a slave girl

and made a family the moment she knew freedom.

From downhome Friday fish-fries in Uncle Porters yard,

and skyping with Uncle Sung:

“Ahnyung Babo-ya!”

From Mottainai

till earth and heaven ring.

I am from two hippies who taught me to find God in all things.

From the course of true love is easy if you will it,

from star-crossed,

from “Move that mountain cause it ain’t nothing but a molehill anyway.”

From “It’s yours, baby girl”

Claim It


Blonde stepford mothers

keep me in the kitchen questioning my country

while daughters snigger

fuckin nigger

but no, the mother’s say she’s got to be part

jap, or chink, or malay

her eyes are so


sister so and so slices me a sliver of rum cake, spiced

and tugs my mane like it wont come off

this your grandbaby?


well, her hair is so


my name on a foreign tongue

taste like the tango but truth be told it’s

just a jig

you just give it accents where my daddy ain’t see none.

yeah, i’ll repeat it for you.

and you say, it’s


ajumah in her market

markedly assessing my make-up


happy for eomma

not too dark

so she deems me epudah


society is so ugly


The sun rose

And I’ve forgotten all ere.

Any dark before, the knight,

Has faded from memory;

Now intangible.



and only the brilliant

Warmth remains.

All Apollonian.

Everything began, not anew;

But original.


I worry if night comes.

This too, may be lost

Upon the rising of

Tomorrow’s son.


ok setforth before you is a schedule I will adhere to for your own reading pleasure:

(From Now until September 2013)

SCI-FI Fridays – The last Friday of every month I’ll post a science fiction piece. Some will be shorter than others, and better, but hey, I’m just a writer writin’.

Top-Ten Tuesday – Every Tuesday I’ll post my top ten lists. As in TOP TEN ZOMBIE MOVIES or TOP TEN SAKESPEAREAN CHARACTERS.

Storytime Sunday – Yup, again, every sunday EVERY SUNDAY i’ll post a story. (yikes, ok every sunday i’ll post a whole or parts of a story…just to keep you hooked like Scheherazade)

And I’ll try to keep up with poetry and other general blogging as well. But there it is in writing. Hold me to it.

a heart that you didn’t break

i was 5 years old the first time my heart broke.

i met a little girl who said her daddy was my daddy

and through a tear stained face, sitting at the dinner table

my mother said it was true.

but this was decades before you.

when i learned that even people outside my house knew

a lipstick stain from a dollar hoe on a collar ,

that was earlier ironed and starched by a loving wife

was enough to be the beginning of the end of a happy life

it broke a little more, from shame.

when i grew up and said i will

to someone i’m glad i wouldn’t

and i told my mother about the

naked photos of an uderaged and underdeveloped

friend of the family in my home

she told me about my grandfather.

of whom all she needed to mention was a korean saying roughly translating to:

“men like him would fuck a garbage can if it wore a dress”.

no matter if they married the best, it had no reference, in essence to their hunger

and i never saw safety in broad shoulders and beards as that was what requested i drop my pants

when i was a preschooler requesting if perchance to prance on the playground.

you see, these are the scenes that proceeded you in the molding of the image of men in my minds eye.

and i deeply apologize but i have a hard time with trust.

you see, it wasn’t enough you went to hell and back to show me the sincerity behind every word

to me it was simply absurd that one could be so … and here i lack a term for you.

i beg your pardon, but ive scoured jargons and it seems non can serve you

any justice.

it’s just, Us, the concept of perfect imperfection

was so hard to grasp

and all you asked was i let my guard down.

to sleep, knowing i’m safe and sound

with a man who’d bend over backwards to keep me safe.

but this was the last place i expected be.

when i sat on my ass, praying a prince would come for me,

i looked only for charm.

and so i was disarmed by your decorum so chocked full of chilvary, it shivered me.

the way you

didn’t skip a beat when my sister needed your help.

you  coulda have looked out for self

and focused on the copus amount of pleasure i was to give you

but you didn’t. you came to her rescue.

or the way you revere your mother like the queen she is

and still acknowledge that the time you give

her is but a pebble to the rock she’s been for you.

the way you won’t accept mediocrity in your work

so you stay up all night

just to make things right

and not for the money, but for the respect.

which ive noticed you impart to those who don’t even give it in return.

you see, i’ve had to re-learn the definition of a man

just standing here watching your day by day.

and it ain’t the money you make, your socio economic status

won’t have us determining your worth.

which is such that i’ll immortalize you if i can.

and if i could, give birth to a prince, i’d pray he be like my king.

baby the thing is, i came to you in pieces. shattered and broken and torn.

and again without warning, or request, you have begun to mend

a heart that you didn’t break.




we began with the sweetest of apologies

for taking up a moment of my time as i was walking past

you just had to ask

what my ethnic make up consisted of

” ’cause love, i think i’m the same as you”

and i’d never met a man with game like you so when you called

5 minutes after you got the digits

i knew then and there that i would let you hit it

i just had to assess you first.

and the worst part is that i was so smitten i fell for a kitten

when it was a lion i was after 

…i digress…

so then was your turn to apologize

for getting my ring size so wrong

i had to wear the symbol of my betrothal

around my vocal cords.

(i also forgave you for getting yeellow gold

cause you know

i hate how it shows on my finger)


but these were trifling regrets that linger on your behalf

and in the aftermath of our disaster

they really don’t matter in the greater scope of it all.



What matters are your attempts at atonement

after you invited that HOE in my home

telling her how long i’d be gone with my friends

so she can sneak in the back door.

or when you sought vindication for

obtaining oral relations in the car

 from that white chick up the block.

Is it true?

do they all swallow?

Or how about the excuses

for a body full of bruises

i obtained in an effort to flea?




the one that needs to apologize

 is me.


I’m sorry,


for letting him break your nose

stripping you of your prose

because scribing it down would have made it too real.

i know we made a deal

to just shut the fuck up

cause it was just as much us

but, you’re 4′ 11.

He’s 6 ‘ 2.

he never had the right to put his hands on you.

And i never had the right to make you stay.

 What blinded me in that way

i couldn’t possibly tell you.

it’s not your fault he did those things

i’m sorry i made you believe that misconception

and tainted your perception of love.

but when i fell ‘in love”

i fell through the glass ceiling

sending shards through the very heart of me.

and there’s a part of me that knows

i owe you more than any prose

could EVER offer.

but i will rebuild, word upon word

promises to the self

because no one else

knows what we have endured

and so, for sure,

in the words of Polonius

‘to thine own self be true’

becuase the last person that should owe you an apology…

…is you.





There exists and infinite amount of possibilities.

Realities that could’ve been and just never came to be,

but in this one, you came for me.

and i’m not talkin no

“white horse” shit here.

this ain’t no romantic poem

about some knight in shining armour coming for his fair maiden.


we ain’t even dating.

this is about a kindred soul

and how you showed me a clearer vision of myself than i ‘ve ever known

and i thank you humbly

for ignited a flame once thought lost to the night

and so,

 for you,

 i’ll write

because yesterday you were a stranger

and although i could hardly count you as more than that today

i really love the way

you motivate  me

during that late night excursion into each others mind

you reminded me that i

was something


i’d like to thank you for finding me in the rough

and thinking that was enough

to make me more EPIC than anything you had ever heard before

and i take it from you as truth cause you’re beautiful

souls like yours are the only reason God lets us go forth.

and i dunno how many people have been blessed to make your acquaintance

but your cadence is amazing

i’d give a penny for your thoughts and all i have for conversation

…i digress…

i simply wanna recognize the beauty of all you’re comprised of

and i say that since you’re giving me my voice

i have no choice

but to put your name down for eternity

“for behold, michael, the chief prince came to help me”

and ignited i’ll go forth

sheep amid the wolves

cause now, thanks to you

I’m ready.