Carry Me

I like my eardrums 
Being pounded
By the bass in the music
Coming through my earphones. 
That is a feeling I welcome. 
More than I welcome 
Restlessness at night. 
More than I welcome 
Helplessness when I’m awake. 

I like sound to be silent 
Around me 
And filling,
Engulfing me
And carrying me on waves. 
That feeling of being moved
Is a welcome feeling to me. 
More than I welcome 
Floating in the endless 
Questions I ask myself. 
The endless questions
I ask God.

I like the quiet I find
In music
When it’s loud. 
The stillness I feel 
When I move 
To that strong beat. 


Sitting in the Dark

Yesterday at work while I took my break in the back, the lights went out after a while. A sensor thing. I was sitting in one spot for a while and I guess my movements weren’t large enough so the lights went out. I knew from previous experience that in order to get the lights back on I’d have to get up from where I was sitting and probably take about two steps or wave my hands frantically for about two seconds. I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t need the lights anyway.

I was eating oatmeal from a mug and scrolling through my Facebook news feed. A librarian’s office was right in front of me too and light was on in there. It was enough for me to see what I needed to. She was busy though, and she had earphones in. She didn’t notice when the lights went out in the main area where I was. I was surprised then when I suddenly heard her say “Excuse me, but you’re sitting in the dark!” We laughed. She’s funny, so it’s hard not to laugh when she talks. I told her the lights went out. She knew then. She expressed the same thoughts I had about having to move to get them back on. I told her I wasn’t doing that. I was quite fine. She then laughed again and said something like “Okay, because I thought maybe you had some issues you need to discuss.” We laughed again. She had no idea.

I’m sitting in the dark right now. This time on purpose. I just finished writing in my journal, and crying. I turned the lights off in my room because they were too bright and they were offending me for some reason. Music was already playing on my phone and I brought it next to me and used the flashlight from it to see what I was writing. Then I got my earphones, put them in, and turned the volume all the way up. It just wasn’t loud enough and that was offending me too. Now I have the music on full volume without the earphones. I don’t need them anymore.


After 1 a.m.

I hate myself. Same old same old. I could say that the devil is strong. I could say that I’m weak. Both would be true.

I’m sick, of being sick, and moping around about how much I hate reality and my life and how much I don’t want it like this.

I’m tried. I’m not sleeping because of the dramas, but I can’t find anything gripping to read – not that I’m looking hard.

I want to ask for help but I don’t. I don’t want to burden someone else, and I don’t want to say any of it out loud. That will change everything.

At these times I don’t know what to do with myself. Can’t pray, can’t write poetry, can’t sing – haven’t written a song in ages,and nothing’s suitable on my karaoke app. Don’t even know what kind of music I should listen to to go with my mood. Should I go with soft or something hard and fast. Just tried soft and it didn’t work, looking for something else – not finding it.

Sitting on the floor writing because I figure this will be the most comfortable right now. Still switching songs and skipping every single one. If I could dance well from my head I’d turn something up and go for it. Maybe I need to plug my ears with it. That would probably be better.

Penmanship looks like crap. Just switched genres because K-pop wasn’t doing it for me. Chrisette Michele. Cool. Sounds similar to a gospel artist I used to listen to. Used to. Can’t listen to those anymore really.

It’s after 1 a.m. … and I hate myself.


Not Yet

I cried
As I sang to God,
Asking Him to hear
What I was saying
Because I couldn’t talk
To Him
With spoken words,
Not yet.

Wondering how the words
I wrote
So long ago
Were so perfect
For right now.

I closed my book
And hung my head
But I didn’t say anything,
Though there was some movement
In the darkness
Of my mind.

I hope He heard from that,
Because I can’t talk to Him
Not yet.


Her Music

No rhythm 
He said,
And she flinched. 

She had been beating 
The drums for 
Pounding out
Her sorrows, 
Striking down
Her fears,
Whisking away 
Her teardrops
And steadying 
Her heart. 

But he listened 
To her story
For less 
Than half 
Her fingertips,
And closed his ears
Because he wasn’t 
Feeling it.



Will you
Let me
To you?

When I speak
At an interview?

My heart
Through my words
And my voice?

I made
This choice?

Let me
Before you
And bare myself.

Let me
You, like no one else.

You’re my
Only hope.
Besides you there’s
No one.

Be silent
For a while.
Listen to my song.


Easy Skanking

I was called an old soul.
The grandmother
Who knew all the things
From long ago.

I laughed.
I did find it quite funny.
This is the music
My father played
I told them.

That’s what it was.
I smiled.
Yes, that’s what it was.

They let me be after that.
They understood now
Why I got so excited
When Marvin Gaye came on.
When Dennis Brown
Blared through the speakers.
When it was I-Wayne,
Beres Hammond,
Jimmy Cliff,
Cocoa Tea,
Garnett Silk.

Old reggae,
Roots reggae,
Slow reggae.

Soft music
That spoke
To hearts,
Smooth music
That spoke
To mine.