How to Kill A Monster

What a monster
a self serving,
Desperate,
Vacuum of what a person used to be.

Just stay away... there's nothing to see here.
The plug has been pulled,
his breaths will deepen because they know they must savor their last few minutes with the air.
In...
out...
In...
...out

I'm sorry that I am weak.
I'm sorry that some of you may never know how much this monster loves you.
Hidden inside this industrial cage is a space where life used to churn.
Thick.
Layered.
Wild.

Now only a space.

Abandoned by the ones who know how to predict the weather of a monster;
the monster moves in as often as the clouds consume a bay.
A chill,
Almost in a beautiful way.

Be smart!
Beauty is fooling.
There is nothing beautiful about a monster,
he is a storm.
He is a force.
Ugly & tragic.
Turn,
Walk toward the sun, never looking back.

If no one is looking at the monster who thrives on the thoughts behind those looks then thrive he will not.
The claws at your back may scratch and break skin, but stand strong and stare away for it won't be long.
Monsters only seem to be strong.

"Goodnight dark monster. You lie still int he valley. Silence told us, as we stare forward into the light of the sun."

Daniel May

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Old Earth

For the longest time, we called you the moon Because from where we could see You looked abandoned And blue Like nighttime We thought we understood how you felt Another room In a home That was a notch on our belt So we burned up the oceans And drowned out our skies Until even the islands began to Become dry And suddenly soon We'll stand crying over valleys abandoned and blue With a far, new born, planet Calling us moon.

A Sunny Spot.

Sunny runs Lenox Fast Food breakfast spot in Central Harlem. He and his beautiful wife, And Fernando, Run the spot on Lenox Ave, Just below 143rd St. Next to a bar called 'A Touch of Dee'. They serve plates, Fried fish, Coffee with milk or half 'n' half only... And cheese grits. Everyone orders the cheese grits. I've never had them, But secretly, always want to try them. The waffles are toaster waffles, And come in 2 sizes: Regular and silver dollar. There are tins ready with butter, Prepped bacon, And these little metal bowls, That Fernando has on hand to mix your eggs. Which he folds with precision and skill. In the back of this narrow, Black-painted-walled hole in the wall (the kinda spot my Dad would love), On this block of Lenox Ave., There is a picture of Obama- maybe from 2008. On the wall next to the "If someone is choking" sign. Today a man, Much taller than me, With a smile and energy that could light up NY, A man who Sunny knew by name, Wa...

A Shake In The Matter.

Have you ever had the thought, ‘If I were white, how different my experience would be. How much more opportunity I would’ve had. How much less stress and anxiety I might experience. How much more attention and validation I might’ve received. How much more money I might have made. How much more acceptance I might’ve felt. How much more ease with which I might’ve moved through the world without fear?’ Imagine that, an existence not governed by fear. And how not once would I have had to think about any of it. Because it would’ve just been there. Been a part of the truth. The air. There would be no space to move through because of the intrinsic ownership granted in the space in which I was, simply because I am. No guessing. No adjusting. Just fully taking up whole space wherever I went. So maybe this idea of white fragility, white questioning, white discomfort, white supremacy is actually good for all of us to experience and see. To have the switch flipped. For everyone to get even just a...

Holy Motha Freakin Gosh

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