There he goes again
the defiant determined
young fighter pilot

Racking up kills
never getting enough
scanning the skies
for the infamous Red Baron

A bright red plane
with iron crosses
on the ends of its wings

Constantly thinking how if only
he could shoot him down
the amount of fame and glory
he would receive

How he would be the one
who shot down the Red Baron
this infamous German fighter ace

Sitting on the edge
of the railroad tracks
watching the trains
going by

Thinking about
the woman
I left behind

Closing my eyes
she is in my arms
I can feel
her shoulder length black hair
blowing in the wind
brushing against my chest

As the hem
Of the dress she wears
Flutters in the gusts
Created by the passing trains

This sweet perfume
of an aroma
emanates from her into my nostrils
bottling up inside my nose
so I can carry it with me
where ever I go

The flickering light of fireflies
in the dark
are no match
for the sparkle
in her eyes

They are pools of water
of which I never
want to come out of
so cool and comforting

Two constellations in the sea
we call life
always calling and
leading me home

Beacons of light
in the darkest of times
leading me away from
the deadly rocks of disgust
keeping me in calmer seas

The rock on which I foundered
has rollen down the hill
to rest upon the Styx dark bank
where the waters yet run still

The coal-shell chain
that cloaked my face
lays shattered in the moss
gathered by my tortured hand
to pay the fare across

The silent sighs that echo
from the endless night below
strap themselves to my shame
as He begins to row

Hooded in a rosewood mist
from crown to rotten sole
he points a leaden finger
toward a swooping, lifeless crow

soul handset
I hear the sigh and whisper
breath against my heart
as the day turns dark

you the hunter of the spark
the hardcore scrapes
the soul crash stark

when you smile you glitter
melting all the ferocious
fears
and claim your mark

Yesterday was Tomorrow
Today will be Yesterday
My life will cease meaning,
after my last breath

Your pain won't restart my heart
Tears can't wash away death
Screams won't supply me air
I can't come back

Stop your sobs
Listen close
Tomorrow will soon be over
Today lost in time
Let me go
I'll be a forgotten memory

Survive
Live
Breathe
Love
Care
Cherish

Do what I can't
What I refused
Succeed Love...
Promise me

I wonder if you see my gifts most times
Cos you are lost - In the turmoil
Of your own drive to be enough
& I know how that feels
It’s a too common
Phenomenon
Of our deprivation
Babies that should have known
loving & nurturing
A solid belief in a life worth growing into
I had to teach myself these things
& you in your way
You learned to survive
& I love your integrity
& wish for you so much more
not just Moleskins & Birkenstocks
but faith in yourself

On an island
on the intersection of
Washington Street and Comm Ave
sits a large square
stone monument

It is gated off from
the rest of the world
with black cast iron fencing

Grass and flowers
grow all around it
two American flags
waving in the wind
next to it
on both sides

PFC Stanley N. Kaplan
engraved into the stone
along with other symbols
and epitaphs on it

Patterns on the Wall

by: c.m. mattison
When first you awaken
to the patterns on the wall,
They'll take you down the back stairs,
they'll lead you through the hall.
Like Alice's "Wonderland"
falling down a hole;
Then back through the looking glass,
in search of your soul!
And who could tell by looking,
at those patterns on the wall
That it really never mattered,
no, it mattered not at all?

blowing strong winds
a Jersey City King of Kings
everything . . . to cast his spell
yo! papa Obatala touching tentacles
chance upon this poet on an open forum
inside Harlem Botanical shops
beating for her lost voodoo box
enshroud earth, Virgo oils and pearls
adorn the day happen on
present Oshun crystal mojo, Vodka, chicken wings and Russian suicide writers

© 2011 Lepadah