Split-Torn: The Poetry Collection

Switching to [tumblr]

2010-04-13T19:05:00.002-04:00

Hello beloved readers,

I have decided to switch my poetry blog over to tumblr. I will be taking a couple weeks or so to transition my poetry from this site, and I will ultimately leave this post with the new link (below). That should give all my followers plenty of time to make the switch if they want, but I will leave this site up as well. Thank you so much for all of your support and input.

Tumblr Poetry Blog

God bless,

Brittney

Reservoir. (Mini-Series. Part 7.)

2010-03-26T15:46:00.000-04:00

Watch me, love,
and wonder.
Confine your peripheral vision
on my silhouette
Only.
Notice that I'm secretly doing work.

Though I won't tell you exactly
what I'm up to,

know this:
It's all for you.

So To Speak

2010-03-25T00:29:00.003-04:00

I have an odd request
for you.
Maybe two...

Speak up.
Tilt your chin upwards
slightly,
Straighten your back and
meekly resound your mind to me.
Arrange your words straight as an arrow
and aim directly for my heart's flesh.
I need to know you aren't afraid of sounding off.
Flapping your gums at me, so to speak,
even if a time or two
Is to let me know that
You.
Got.
This.

Also,
Lean in really close to me.
Invade my person and
Match my line of vision.
Speak in low tones with confident demeanor.
Softly enunciate each syllable
so that I will stiffen at attention.
Verbalize to me what lies in the intimate corners
of your heart, so to speak.
I promise that once you
have my full attention
You'll.
Have.
Me.

Hate (part one?)

2010-03-22T16:36:00.001-04:00

Hate weighs on the soul
My energy is drained to the point
Where I cannot muster a vowel
To retell the story of why your
Existence in my heart is detestable.

This victim’s song is familiar
And I hum it softly to myself at times
So soothing is the searing repugnance
That I soon find myself crouched in.
A wounded man’s paradise;
Lulled into a cold slumber
From the melody.

Motionless and satisfied.
Happy from the reality I’ve built:
That everyone is malevolent
Way deep on the inside.
I smile from the safety of knowing that
I won’t ever have to try again;
Underneath the weight of
Grave vulnerability.

Offense hitches itself to the hip of the heart
And transitions with me from one stage in life
To the next.
Disappointment thick on my skin;
Covers;
Radiating from me like an aura
That glows with sweet disdain;
The façade of sweet tolerance and longsuffering
Attempts at masking my heartache,
While the pungent odor
Of hatred slowly seeps it way through.

Truthfully,
I have grown wary of the mourner’s sackcloth
And the chains of the slave.
The musty stench of disappointment
Lingering,
Makes me long for fresh air.
I need emancipation from
This place
And the courage to flee
This foggy disposition.

Spring Break Musings. (Mini-Series. Part 9)

2010-03-22T16:33:00.002-04:00

You push me to edges.
But revealing that I can go further
Than I thought I ever could.
I see that my edges aren’t really
The end
Of all there is of me.
Rather,
They are a beautiful
Transition
Into greater unknowns.

Hidden (The Meaner Half)

2010-03-08T23:48:00.000-05:00

Repressed motives

Shine behind waiting, innocent

Eyes.

Fondness lies in the wake.

Ready to grasp bits of

Warmth,

And

Steal away seconds of

Undivided attention

Before becoming the

Object of jealousy.

Quiet, selfish, and set.

Hidden points of interest exist

Despite the

Depths of another bond.

Betrayal waits,

Prepared to make a mockery

Out of tried-and-true friendship.

…a misguided passion

Taking advantage of actual love.

*written May 12, 2009

Suicide. (Mini-Series. Part 8)

2010-03-05T15:38:00.003-05:00

“What doesn’t kill you
Makes you stronger.”
Well, I wish that
I were dead.
I wish I could be a fatality
And not a survivor
...of heartbreak.

Born Again.

2010-02-06T01:22:00.002-05:00

Rob me.

Take all of my bravery and will.

Free me from self-preservation

And leave me bare of defenses and potency.

Weaken me.

Strip me down to what I really am:

Thoughtless.

Devoid of form and color,

Shape and purpose.

Remind me that I am completely

Incapable, incompetent,

and

Impossibly hopeless

Without You.

Heart of Fire.

2010-02-06T01:10:00.004-05:00

Caressing a fire,

Your heart glows bright in my arms.

The tips of my fingers

Trace carefully along the heated seams

Close to rupturing its zealous rays.

In moments where I grasped too quickly,

Clenched too harshly,

Your love seared my flesh;

Left an impression past skin & bone.

I retract my grip

And react in pain;

Gritting teeth and regretting that

I wasn’t more careful.

However,

Soon after the tissue cools

I notice that

You’ve forever left a mark;

A permanent tale-tell sign.

Therefore,

I’ll always walk this earth with a piece of the sun

Because I’ve loved you.

Tongues.

2010-01-29T20:48:00.000-05:00

we do plenty of talking
and not enough listening.
our own native cries drowning out
the voices of those across the border
and on distant shores.
"love me!" is the chant;
booming loud and urgent.

If we'd just take turns to listen
we shall discover
that
we're all saying the exact.
same.
thing.

Love's B-Side.

2010-01-29T20:45:00.001-05:00

Growing up I
believed a great, incomplete
truth.
fantasized & sacrificed
every moment on long bus rides
and nighttime silences
wishing and longing for the day
when I would find
a great love that would
suddenly
make my existence easier.

blame it on my naivety
or the fabricated, woo-like
factor in the media.
no matter the source of fault,
I wanted it more than
my next breath:
someone who I'd love so much
that I'd breathe my last for.

I was completely unaware
of the harsh, unattractive half to Love.
Its gritty & disheveled B-side;
where you're pushed to the
outer realms of your sanity.
And you endure pain unimaginable;
the kind that mirrors the martyr
[but for different reasons]

Fear uncovers past wounds
of abandonment and heartache
Yet,

...I still want Love.
More than I did as a child.
And having sat down and counted the costs,
I still choose to pursue;
fantisizing with the same bright-eyed
enthusiasm.
Only now, it's matched with an inner fight
to endure whatever comes.

(Mini-Series. Part 6) Deep vs. Shallow

2010-01-29T20:14:00.004-05:00

I know that my waters
run deep,
but the moment I notice that
I am being
watched;
caught underneath the gaze of
your mind's eye,
I cast my smile as far away as possible
and quietly wade around
the shallow end.
I cannot show you
just how deep it all goes.

Curbed & Biased.

2009-12-14T18:12:00.003-05:00

my eyes are for no other.
handsome forms and
charming words of strangers
fail to turn my head.
my tastes have been
curbed and biased.
reserved for the likes of
only you.
...or your prototype at least...

my heart is incapable of
resounding loudly for another [man].
the kindest gesture or
most intellectual exchange
cannot raise a single hair on my head
nor prickle one pore on my forearm.
I am dead to all of them:
Future suitors are merely a sea of
faceless Johns...
...and in their midst you've surpassed them all.

Take Time

2009-12-14T18:08:00.002-05:00

I.
take a moment to
simply. breathe.
and study the loving eyes
staring back at you.
say nothing and
be still.
and I will quiet the
stirrings underneath my rib;
silently nurse the pain.
I'll be ready when you are, friend.
I'll be ready when it's time.

II.
take a moment.
and I'll linger here...
how lovely it can be to
dwell in sweet anticipation.
I'll wait for you.
My feet will not budge
unless it's in your direction...
and unless He tells me to.
I'll be ready when you are, friend.
I'll be ready when it's time.

Smile (Mini-Series. Part 6)

2009-12-14T18:05:00.002-05:00

look in my direction
linger there for a moment
give me your eyes' shine.
and slowly perk cheekbones
let your lips part
while their corners
reach for the heavens,

show me you're delighted...
...love,
smile for me.

Shine.

2009-11-01T01:43:00.001-04:00

Every morning

I brainstorm

On new ways that I can

Be better.

I muse over dreams from the night before

To calculate their divinity.

I breathe deeper

To clean the air for my fellow man.

Stand up straighter,

On tip toes,

So that I can get a better view of the sunrise.

Smile with

Eyes closed

And

Laugh with

Head back,

So that You can see

That I feel Your gaze…

[…though I am sometimes too shy to look back.]

I think of how I can write

With more insight,

As to not waste the light that peeks through

Your partly open door.

Exercise the talents and gifts I have

As an avenue to decrypt a portion of Your delight.

I’ll devise future plans;

Make room for love to have its way in me,

Because all I

Really purpose to do

In life is

Make You smile.

The Break. (The Skinny Poem)

2009-10-31T21:19:00.001-04:00

I have realized

The dangers of a passion

Left alone to starve.

Small morsels of

Grazing skin-to-skin

And bartering full glances

…Tease the longing soul.

However,

While a cloud of the unknown

Hovers close,

We are temporarily shaded

From the sun.

Here,

We find relief.

From the intensity

Of hope,

The pull

Of commitment,

And the exhaustion

Of desire.

Across the Line

2009-10-19T23:54:00.002-04:00

We sneak off to indulge

In the moment.

My love and I steal away.

Giggling and clumsy,

To snatch glimpses

Into marital bliss.

We slow danced across the line

Clearly defined;

Grooving to Nat King Cole’s

Sophisticated crooning.

I staggered through

My conscience

So that I may tell you

In a grown up way,

That I love you more than

I am ready for.

Mimicking a look I saw mother give father,

I run a delicate toe coyly

Across the line….

…momentarily

caring less about the manner set for my feet

to walk in.

Tonight,

I could no longer stifle the mature woman’s bellow

Coming from underneath my belly,

Nor the cry from her womb.

So, I dared follow her nature

For a while (as best I could),

And responded to the grown man

Accent in you.

Dormant desire

Met with inexplicable zeal.

A pair of hips and hands meet,

And music was made.

And so we slow danced across the line,

Moving in our own inelegant,

But destined,

rhythm.

II.

I figured as much.

We were actually

Mesmerized by sensations

Due to the taste of my breast

And the firmness of your flesh.

Throughout moments of honorable torment,

As we began to

Slow dance across the line,

You could not stop thinking of

How good it’s going to feel inside.

And I just wanted to feel beautiful again... inside.

It all

Still

Leads back to you and I,

Making us selfish lovers.

I love you

And you, me

But

It’s a plus

That I desire to give parts of me

And

That these parts belong to me,

So we pretend to belong to one another.

Lovely, isn’t it?

It’s no fault of yours, my love.

This is what happens when

We slow dance to our parents’ mood music.

Possibly,

We gravitate onto territory

That we explicitly desire,

But

Are not yet prepared for.

Maybe I should wait

Until we’ve realized that

You make love to my soul

And connect to my spirit

First,

Before I give in to you again.

The Friend Zone (Snippet)

2009-09-29T00:56:00.000-04:00

I asked God for a soulmate,

But instead, He sent me

you.

Equipped with all the

Probability of a Love Story

That I did not plan for.

With an unripe heart

And underdeveloped writing skills

I toddled right into the friend zone…

…etched a permanent marking there.

I was allowed to rest my coat

And cool my heels.

Fields of Battle (Working Title)

2009-08-24T02:01:00.000-04:00

The plain of my love for you

Is more like a battlefield

Than an open pasture where

The possibilities are endless,

And the hopes are high.

I feel compelled to crouch,

Position my heart low, and fight

Than spread my wings

For a flight’s anticipation.

I would much rather

Stretch out contentedly

Extend my legs and fingertips

To take in each blade of green

And ray of sunlight.

But,

Instead the ground is mud and soot;

Where I place one careful footstep

After the other.

Cautious and afraid,

Passing by dilapidated buildings…

In an area that was once my home.

The Answer (I Will Write For You)

2009-08-21T11:45:00.002-04:00

I will write for you.

At times my mind can be rigid and afraid

Silent but focused for days.

Meanwhile my heart

Clamors about desperately

Intent on living life free

From worry or doubt.

Though these dual forces

War in fiery rivalry,

Both surrender themselves to

The mercy of my pen;

Subservient and hospitable.

I will channel my mind’s eye

Along with the fight of my heart;

Enclose it, with all diligence,

To present it upon special request.

…You asked of me,

So I’ll gratefully respond,

“Yes, friend, I will write for you.”

You recognize that others

Stand and applaud at my thoughts’ echo,

While,

The approval and jeers cultivate the wordsmith in me,

From finger snaps (unfortunately) to follow-up gigs

And opportunities for improvised truth.

But know that, for you,

I would contract my gift,

And destine an indefinite amount of my heart’s prose

In your honor.

I would risk the embarrassment of misunderstood theme,

Grammatical errors, and

Impartial rhyme and meter,

So that you could partake of the rawest, freshest scribes of me.

I will write for you.

Carpal tunnel and eye strain will be my companions;

Purging whatever I have in me [for you]

To give to you.

And though I am afraid of what you’ll do to/with my deepest expressions,

So costly and dear,

I fear more the regret of keeping them close.

Hovering over the very gift that I am not meant

To maintain or control.

To cheat my words of the right to an audience

With your heart.

So yes,

YES.

I will write for you.

Economics.

2009-07-07T01:44:00.006-04:00

Beautiful people

Nonchalant in their existence.

Cigarettes properly placed between fingers,

With postures slanted upwards toward dignity;

Floating among themselves,

Gloating.

Basking in privilege,

Yet secretly despising one another

And the wealth that has them all

Entrapped.

Silver spoons gleam brightly from

The mouths of babes;

Blinding the common man,

Straddling the fiscal fence

In the middle,

From seeing the dirty, disgraceful taboo

Of flies in destitute eyes & vacant, desperate appetites.

Search the world and find

1,000 impoverished pair of hands for every rich man.

And the ratio is allowed

So that the odds towards maintaining wealth are more favorable.

Therefore,

The backs of the poor are adequate commodities

For cheap labor,

Who will continue to build up the

Collateral of nations.

Routed slaves and desperate immigrants

Are testaments

that

The contradictions of the world

Are horrid, indeed.

And Then (Mini-Series. Part 5)

2009-06-26T19:24:00.005-04:00

one day I will

fashion the words that

will make this love

tangible.

write the poem

that will

finally

give my pain

a purpose,

and

A hope to hold me;

making me brave enough

to wait for you.

Haiku #4672

2009-06-22T12:54:00.002-04:00

women silently

giving birth to corpses. Who

will speak for the dead?

"Tommy,...You Ain't Got No Job Maynnnn!!" (Haiku)

2009-06-21T20:49:00.001-04:00

worse than laziness:
disguising idleness or
work without progress.

Stick-Up. (Mini-Series. Part 4)

2009-06-15T06:03:00.006-04:00

I came to you:
Level-headed and
Whole-heartedly
With
Flawless diamonds hidden behind my eyes,
and
a pure, expectant smile.

But,
you took what didn't belong to you.
And I want them all back,

you Thief.

Left-Out for Leftovers

2009-06-15T05:19:00.003-04:00

I’m the girl made for
Second thoughts,
Lukewarm hand-me-down gestures,
And affections in the form of
His leftovers.

Figured I would be first in line
For
His fondness;
Yet I see that
My place had the stability
Of quicksand.

The [intimate] nickname I displayed proudly
Was not gold-plated or permanently mounted high,
Rather,
One of those thin, interchangeable
Plastic tags that can be switched
With another,
When there’s an adjustment in personnel.

I certainly have my pride.
So, I will quietly gather
What rightfully belongs to me
And love myself,
From now on…

Back to the Future

2009-06-12T13:26:00.002-04:00

I wish to accelerate time
Defy natural law
Fast forward
To the moment where you
Love me better.
Wistfully you realize
That your Present Self is
In need of the Future You
A Prospect
In your former skin.
A Prototype
Of your future self.

You.
Powerless to give
And
Incapable of containing
Me.
Lacked essence
Meanwhile I spend mine into a void interdependence.
Loving the Idea of You.
I’m
Miserly with Moments
Courted by Glimpses
&
Wooed by Potential.

You are left dazed
By my excess
And ashamed
By your lack.
Quick trips to a hidden reservoir
Leaving me behind to
Maintain our Masquerade.

But I shall wait
Here.
Denying the traces of them
Who pale in comparison
To the You
That returns.

Patience. (Mini-Series. Part 2)

2009-06-04T14:40:00.000-04:00

peculiar. it is.
while you
drift from
fear to love's folly,
and
one beautiful possibility
to another,
I.
stand next to you,
frozen in a solitary
teardrop,
and wait for you
to notice that it's
me
[holding your hand].

Dry Eyes (Mini-Series. Part 1)

2009-06-04T14:33:00.000-04:00

I have stared at you
for so long,
my eyes are
beginning to tire.

They are dry from
focus.
And I am afraid
that if I
blink,
I will miss...
...something.

But I cannot keep this up
for much longer.

Please,
love

...look my way.

Love Jones For a Poet

2009-04-21T18:52:00.003-04:00

The women of the world

May swoon

At the sight of ripped chests,

Arms,

And a statuesque frame

Molded after a porcelain David.

Others interests are sparked

(Along with that sparkle in the eye)

At the sight of a man

Nice at ball-handling or

Possessing the stamina of a

Tri-athlete of sorts;

A superman donned to

dodge bullets and

Leap tall buildings.

But I.

Stagger and stumble over curbsides

Over He

That can take vowels, nouns, and stanzas

And compose them into pure fire.

Spit a flame into my ear

Instead of a pick-up line.

My eyes will not follow the direction

Of a 5K runner or a tall, unblemished figure…

Nothing turns my head like He who can

Run circles around me with

The prose that He scribes.

My heart palpitates for the master of the 16,

The king of the manuscript,

And the ambassador of words and thoughts.

Not the muscular, wife-beater-wearing novice

Who will sport the shades, grip the mic,

Ransack the words,

But will say absolutely nothing.

No, not him…

But He.

Who wears justice as a belt

And truth as a cloak.

I will stand and applaud for him,

nod along to his beat,

study his verses and

commit them to memory,

apply the Truth I feel

to my every footstep.

Big.Brother's.Shadow. (For Michael)

2009-02-20T02:00:00.000-05:00

On February 22, 1999, my older brother Michael passed away in an automobile accident. It's amazing to me how something that happened 10 years ago still has a way of being a sensitive area for me and my family.
But God is so sovereign because it was through my brother's passing that I found poetry...which isn't just a hobby to me, or a talent I claim to have...but it is a way I worship my Father. And whether or not anyone cares or clamors to read a word I care to write, it is a gift that I was given to express the deepest pain one can experience: grief.

So, I write.
And every year around this time, I write something for him. About him.
So that I can rest in the fact that he is still missed...and not forgotten.
I can sit with most anyone and tell you about Mike, if given the time...
But there are only two things that are essential at the moment for you to know:
He was my big brother, and I loved him.
Enjoy....

Smiles and
Bright eyes.
I regard my youth with
With a bit of fondness
Because I had you.

I followed you closely…fascinated,
Because your manner
Hinted at a strength outside
Your years…
…and inconsistent with your “kool-aid” socks
And high-top fades.

I.
Big brother’s shadow.
Never leaving your side
Unless the sun was down.
[Your bedtime was later than mine.]

Grins
And high-fives.
I hated dresses
And itchy tights in my youth
Because I had you.

I mimicked you faithfully
Through basketball jerseys,
Blasting my Outkast cassette tape,
To mastering the final level of
Super Mario Brothers…

I was
Big brother’s shadow.
I wanted to be great,
Just like you.

Sighs
And broken hearts.
I learned of love early
In my youth
Because I had you.

You showed me unintentionally
What a man is and isn’t
Meant to be.
From sneaking peeks into that little black book,
Finding dirty letters in the laundry piles,
To your care for probable offspring…

I miss being
Big brother’s shadow.
Where I found safety
To openly abandon myself in innocence,
And a growing hope
On which to gaze and glean from...

He.Be.Revolution. (Personal Fav)

2009-01-02T20:04:00.003-05:00

I've touched the hands

of a revolutionary.

a man.

and a catalyst

for change.

I've kissed the lips

of a revolutionary.

a force.

a potential name

for legacies.

Not one amongst

the legions of those

bound by the streets

and chained to a mindset

he pumps his fist

yes

but he's holding

a pen.

a mic.

He's the epitome

of Black Pride.

Malcolm's Pride.

Martin's Pride.

Mother's Pride.

Nonviolent Verocity.

Knowledgable Grandeur.

Confusing the masses

Because he manuvers just fine without

The gun on his hip

And the chip on his shoulder.

Never whining.

Pointing no fingers

and expecting no hand-outs.

He moves.

He molds.

He is.

With feet firm.

His convictions are deeply rooted.

Eyes focused.

His sights see beyond the Struggle.

His age inconsistant

of his wisdom.

But oh. How his father

would be so proud. if only

his eyes were just as clear.

He doesn't just know of revolution

or hope for revolution

or front with the cap wearin' and slogan shoutin' revolution.

But

He thinks revolution

Sees revolution

Speaks revolution

and

IS revolution.

I'm loved by the spirit of

a revolutionary.

A heart

too good for this world.

The Ol' Ball & Chain

2008-12-29T06:06:00.002-05:00

You

Attribute me

Not to life’s greatest adventure

But to a prison sentence.

Or a stage in life that is a

Necessary evil for procreation

And guilt-free monogamy.

You

Associate me

With the nagging to fix kitchen cabinets

And annoying jousts over remote-hogging

…instead of a life-long friendship

That transcends its titles and obligations.

You

Fill bars and hardware stores

Till after hours,

Secretly envy single men,

And excitedly attend bachelor parties

To relive your glory days…

To recall when you were that free…

To recapture the smile that was lost

Somewhere between the rehearsal dinner

And the 50^th soiled diaper that needed to be changed…

To remember when

You weren’t weighed down by the ol’ ball and chain...

You

Cheapen me

And then blame me for

Having desires beyond the biological.

Past our released endorphins and sweaty limbs.

You

Connect me

Directly to the journey’s difficulty

Instead of seeing me

As an answer to prayer.

["It is not good that Man should be alone..."]

You

Flee.

So I

Will wait.

Def Poet (snippet)

2008-12-28T02:45:00.001-05:00

Vibrations of plenty

Like boom –bap

And broken syllables in scatted form

Resounding on & on

And on again.

My life is bordered by pulsations

The soil throbs with anticipation

And whimpers with

Discontent from the hoarded debris made of

Parched parchment paper

I exhale in agreement

And pray the

Dry air will ignite the rubbish.

I lend my ear to the ground

To this faultless beat

And prepare the words to release

Into the earth.

Choke the weeds

Before I choke on this burden.

Birds.&.the.Bees.

2008-12-27T05:08:00.001-05:00

Each time we become
Dissatisfied with our slow passage
Into a
Lifelong intimacy,
Our desperate grasping leaves us
More discontent.

Stumbling into moments to
Devour one another’s sweetness,
Only to grow increasingly
Hungry and malnourished.
We starve ourselves.

It is then:
A door is opened
That leads outside to
Greener Pastures…
…but we are so caught up in
Our indulgence of this paradise
That we don’t stop to think:
“How will we maintain the land…with no tools?”
So
We linger momentarily,
Stare at our own immature, bare members,
And then sigh; heading back towards
Our original dwelling...
…praying, on the way,
That one of us remembered
To keep the door unlocked.

Still.[Spoken.Word.]

2008-12-24T01:29:00.001-05:00

the way the wind blows
acclaim follows suite.
i would rather stretch my frame
underneath the persistent sky.
though it varies in hues
it will never change its shape
still as infinite as before.
steady in its faithfulness
and ignored still.
so i will pay attention
and allow the sky to teach me
how to be great without being applauded,
how to run from popularity with a clause,
and how to use misunderstanding
to confirm my identity.
[in Him.]
i lay.
and i am still.
because the way the wind blows
acclaim follows suite.