You know not of sacrifice

featured in the poetry forum April 29, 2021  :: 0 comments

Loving someone who shows no love in return, that’s no fun; that’s sacrifice.

Taking flight from a fight when you’re in the right and you know someone is in the wrong; that’s sacrifice.

Willing to die for someone you love or a greater cause; that’s sacrifice.

Watching the flickering flames of candles

In the darkness, not able to get a job due to judicial convictions, judgmental thoughts, and now you have to hit the darkness of the cold street to brighten light bulbs to greet your children with hugs; that’s sacrifice.

Tears fill your eyes while you don’t speak as you listen to a liar’s speech, heartbreaks and you somehow stay meek; that’s sacrifice.

You know not of sacrifice if you are not willing to sacrifice at any given point in your life.

Have you sacrificed????????

editors note:

If we don’t show, we’ll never know. – mh clay

Disabled Love

featured in the poetry forum August 2, 2020  :: 0 comments

Disconnected, vows broken and disrespect running amok; now Sandman carries a Glock, shots rang out now bring the pallbearers out; that clock on the wall still has a TickTock after the Deadly gunshot.

Incriminating words from your mouth need to be incarcerated and your tongue needs to be cut from your mouth and thrown into an incinerator. The reaper keeps a grin for your demise, your end; call the tragedy in tracks of my tears. Let me hit you with these words of precision making your mind fall into a procession, top technician, ink physician; now if you could change something would it be your walk the way you talk or the day you fell apart from your living conditions? These words should make you pay attention, no pictures, pick up a dictionary if any of the words make you weary; revolution, retribution; oh small minds know not of contribution.

editors note:

All that matters… – mh clay

The New Projects

featured in the poetry forum May 11, 2020  :: 0 comments

A place of residency where we the people reside, fences and bush rows the only divide, statistics no lie, 95 percent of black’s now residing, homicide ascending, residency no longer strives where blacks are vandalized.

State of emergency, broken legacy, and residency no more, only reminisce of what was, as the black man wears his hood in the hood, wreaking havoc on the black race; his race.

Insurrectionary acts on the other brothers and sisters who are trapped economically and suppressed by a black racist of the same skin color; black Ku Klux Klan, hooded black men without a revolutionary cause, black man don’t ask why white supremacist wear their hoods in what we call the hood, remove the black hoods and restore our black neighborhoods, a percentage of the black nation holds the black neighborhoods hostage with ignorance.

Let us be understood not misunderstood, our heritage shows the truth of real brotherhood.

editors note:

If you aren’t there, you have no idea, but this. – mh clay

Perhaps

featured in the poetry forum February 4, 2020  :: 0 comments

I may relapse with the company of a bottle of peppermint schnapps, now I become Japanese kamikaze crashing to my death no way out, me and peppermint schnapps.

Perhaps I will dodge the bullet and not pull the cork from the bottle and say screw it now I will not awake with a smell of peppermint schnapps fluid.

Perhaps I will remember the steps while the clock strikes twelve as I prevail, driving nails into that craving beast that dwells inside of my fragile frame of a shell, so I will not feed the hunger of that beast inside.

To be happy I left the dry river, trees without leaves that bare no shade, no more quivers nor heaves from cascading beer cans and whiskey bottles shadow lingers, step by step I see clear, no more fears, I maintained as the seasons changed and words of my peers made me brave to fight the crave.

editors note:

Words make brave to fight the crave. Yes! – mh clay

Just Fine

featured in the poetry forum February 18, 2017  :: 0 comments

If I see u and u don’t see me that’s fine, if I speak to u and u don’t speak back that’s fine, if u judge me and I don’t judge back that’s fine, I speak clearly and if it’s not clear to you that’s fine, if you live in a mansion and I live in a tent that’s fine, you call me crazy and haven’t been anywhere, haven’t seen the things I have nor the pain I have received and dealt with and that’s fine.

Again I will speak clearly,

So drained that I keep this smile to hide all my past and present pains as others have called me many of names that I’m not, been on many of bended knees asking for silence to break the disgracing words of unjustifiable speaking, standing as an entrance and exit and thank you never comes as ungratefulness runs through, the heart has fossilized, tears build and cannot fall and all is fine.

editors note:

So not fine. – mh clay

Chain of denial

featured in the poetry forum November 1, 2016  :: 0 comments

My mind, full of envy over my open heart passion of giving so freely and sight never seeing clearly, mind and heart juggling instruments for the receivers with knowledge of my heart and them deceiving.
Mind holds back, fighting facts, heart reacts, gifting out, no thank you or profitable give back, only a single red eye blink back.
Hands are out to receive never for reprieve for a condemned heart covered in gold.
Mind encased by the power of slave love with every whipping beat from the heart; chain of denial.

editors note:

Altruism; what takers love to see most in others. – mh clay

The Movement

featured in the poetry forum August 9, 2016  :: 0 comments

Looking up through the sun roof; the illusion delighting to the mindset, gravity has the hold, movement of the clouds divulge the delusion.

When you wake paint me in your reflection as the mirror emulates and the mind subsists as we exist in a love abyss.

editors note:

A brief, sweet forever… – mh clay

Closed Case

featured in the poetry forum April 8, 2016  :: 0 comments

Get down, Got-Dam it’s a homicide forty-eight hours, murder case still subsists, fatal blow incited from the inside, proof easily unlawfully baptized and we the people darker in color are capsized by an unsociable justice system with a breed of unlawful bobbies turning homicide into a hobby.

Cold day………..

Cold hearted………..

Cold chase………..

Closes the case on an unlawful murder rate, new wave modern way of hate, fuck the debate, we the people are ghosts in plain site they assassinate, that’s the mandate, remember these names and dates

Medgar Evers, 1964………..

Fred Hampton, 1968………..

Harry and Harriette Moore, 1951………..

Malcom X, 1965………..

Martin L. King, 1968………..

Now can you relate?

Closed case.

editors note:

The blind lady’s scale tips to the twitchy trigger finger. – mh clay

Eyes of the beholder

featured in the poetry forum January 25, 2016  :: 0 comments

You look at me and over me, deep down in my soul you’ll never reach, for if you do you’ll freeze instantly, deep down I’m cold inside and you’re outside looking, not at the straining red blood veins in my eyes squeezing my cortices, nerves react; disgruntled reflex, my pupils were blinded as they are weakflesh, sight I could not make see to be free of a detachable heart murmur. You will never feel the real pain until tomorrow but that day it’s just sorrow that runs through the veins as you come home to find you really have no friendship only the prehensile-hold of I done that smile.

editors note:

To behold is not to be held unless you get beyond that smile. – mh clay

Illusionary death Orgasm

featured in the poetry forum September 21, 2015  :: 0 comments

I have masturbated with death
as it inflects a painful stimulation
making my heart ejaculate from
my chest.

With the loss of equilibrium my
mind swings like a pendulum…
the orgasmic grip of death
suspended from a point of
pivotal circumstance.

Yes; I have looked death in
its empty hood face;
dark abyss, soul sucking, gripping,
tearing, pulling, and
castrating silent predator;

Countless times I walked away
but not before death penetrated
my mind as I felt I had no protection
from death’s infection.

Now I sit in gloom in the darkness
of a room pondering the next time death
appears, will God adhere? I will speak;
“My flesh weak, my mind weak, and I
know that my soul is yours to keep.”

editors note:

Not so easy; coming or going. – mh clay