engaged

engaged
in loving
my man
soon
to be
engaged

Always, Most Days

for the ppl who love the ppl who abuse them, more than themselves
wake up

I love you
always
most days
under the quilt
your grandmother made
under the sun
sipping lemonade

I love you
always
most days
talking on the phone
‘til dawn breaks
talking at school
‘bout the life we’ll make

I love you
always
most days
when you beat me
though I’m scared
when I’m hiding
another beating feared

I love you
always
most days
when you left
called me whore
burdened with baby
pain endured

I love you
Always

Most days.

© copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007

Perfection

for the insecure

She’s so perfect
in a world full of faults
He imagines her
and all things halt

Her beauty is magical
day or night
but she looks at her body
and hates that sight
hates it all
and from the same angle
He stares on
He loves the same person
she loves to hate
for one moment to tell her
forever He’ll wait

Abuse of her perfection
continues daily
too normal to be seen
a problem
Alcohol
Cocaine
any drug will do
all because she desires
to please you
not Him,
to Him she’s magnificent
to Him she’s complete
but the world
plagued by faults itself
you are the reason
she killed herself

she tried to correct
what was already perfect
only He who loved her saw it
but to her
her perfections could only bought
He made her in the image of Him
this is how he knew
with short legs
scattered teeth
big hips
lips like a beak
all the wrongs she tried
to make right
ill corrections
to get attention
in all her attempts
she ruined perfection

© copyright Tia L. Clarke

Random Access Memory

for R. A. M

What if you woke up tomorrow
and I wasn’t there
If your story book memory
erased me
Poof…I’ve vanished into thick black air
If you struggled to tap into
all the things we used to do
If the heat of our passion
disappeared

Your eager brown eyes
that squint at sides
could no longer see me
a heavy cloud in your cracked head
You try recall
but blank shadows cover all
the slate has been wiped clean

But my morning of scrambled eggs, bacon and ham
cooked up something old
it evokes
what we once spoke
the wedding for us,
that belong to only me
of a future with a snotty nose baby
that memory is only mine
I pray that it rains back in the crack
and it will
but only with time

I’m glued in thoughts of what used to be
and by no means
do you remember me

When you reach out your tired hand
you knocked mine aside
you can’t remember
I was the love of your life

The name off your flesh pink lips
was not mine
and my face was the last to come to mind
My name is of a blurry stranger
you’ve forgotten me,
So
although
Random thoughts clutter
Access your
Memory of me.

© copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007

Not Enough

If I am enough
why I am stuck
thinking I’m not worth
a Fuck

If I am truth personified
then why is my truth
I always find a man
who lies

If I am smart
why am I bamboozled
hoodwinked
tricked
over some dick

If I am beauty
then why only
my booty
not my face
you love

I guess I’m not enough

© copyright Tia L. Clarke

Shadow Me Pain

I feel like my pain shadows me. I am afraid to let go my pain, and why should I? So I welcome the memories of when I''ve been hurt: Shadow ME Pain

Lacking confidence
you see
you love
love me

Eye on me
so you say
buckled my shoes
that faithful day

From buckled shoes
to shared gum
cooked lasagna
gave you some

Roller coaster
seven months in
battle with bitches
and your kin

Stay true my heart
Never lie
Sacred love
Love I

Little peck
On the lips
Sacred love
Love shit

ashley came
and by any other name
would still be Ashley
my bane

Still in love
what can I do
love hurts
you too

Over it
over you
big dick
cocky you

© copyright Tia L. Clarke

Sleep

I must learn
the rhythm of sleep
all night I am awake
I just want to fall asleep
Sleep
for goodness sake

© copyright Tia L. Clarke

Boyfriend

“He’s only your boyfriend”
statement inaudible
to my three times
pierced ears
it makes no sense
to our love
they're dense

No one knows what we share
12:30 after the morning of breakfast
Hot eggs and hot sex
one strip of bacon left
drive me home
in the almost cherry red Honda
once before
in this ride my legs were elevated
now so is my mind

“He’s only your boyfriend”

that boy
my friend
seven years
well spent
boy friend
man friend
lover
love me
love him

“He’s only your boyfriend”

They don’t understand
switched schools
held back
still you love me
left S.A.C
still you love me
left handed even
still you love me

Or do you love my dependency
Boyfriend?

© copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007

Dress Code

What’s so important
bout me putting on a skirt?
My Saviour said come as I am…
now there are demands on what I wear
as long as I’m respectful
I don’t care

How long as it been
I’ve waited for my ma
to stop picking out my clothes
now this man
who I don’t know
taking over her role

I don’t have no more
damn skirts in my closet
you go buy me some
My Saviour says come as I am…
And that’s how I’m gon’ come

© copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007

Happy

for Gail Hanna

so happy
that Brent makes you happy
cause knowing that you're happy
makes me happy

Obie Quiet

for O.S

Long winded reply
to a short piece
literary genius
calls to mind
a mean beast

Stripped of all I thought
poetry to be
here to learn
to listen
but slain in a thick forest
chopped down
by inhibition

I may not riddle
names of famous poets
I may have shit loads
to learn
but why do you share this burden
is it your concern?

Battle raging in my mind
and in my heart a riot
I fear insulting you
but I must say
“Obie Quiet”

© copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007

Can We Talk

I know we’ve been through some things
pooped pampers to periods.
Heart breaks to engagement rings.
So can we talk?

Mom, I think if our walls could talk,
They’d scream.
Not about your curry soup
About my brothers being arrested,
and their flying the coup.

I don’t want to converse about sex.
It’s too late.
You couldn’t imagine your daughter,
in the back seat of a cherry red Honda;
Head tilted back, eyes closed
legs elevated, with toes pointed like a ballerina
sweat dripping down my brow.

But I do have things I want to say,
My back bent in like a ditch,
puddles settle in, making me laggard,
Overflowing like an erupted volcano,
So can we talk?

About that day you read my soul
like a blind man reads brail
your fingertips poking at my spirit.
Sssssshhhh,
Listen!

That was my floral book of secrets,
but you unraveled me like a gift,
bow and all.

We never spoke
about it,
the aftermath of your actions.
A gray cloud still hangs over my head,
from the raging storm.
I cried like an abandoned infant.
You never held me.

You should know,
that you
put me through hell.

I was only fifteen
My legs spread on a stranger’s icicle table,
violated,
heavier than shackles of slaves
her seal like hands held down my thighs
pinned down and penetrated.
You let her rape me.

When it was done,
she stood twenty feet tall
looking at who she labeled slut.
BUT
that DOCTOR,
Was my first.

Talk to me!
Tell me why we never shared our feelings.
Please,
can we talk?

©copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007

You Take My Breath

this has been revised so many times I almost can not recognize what it was in the beginning...after reading at Sine Qua Non gallery I was told that the ending should be revised. I did that, so let me know what you think.

My heart flutters like a fish on dry pavement,
I struggle to walk; my knees are a condemned building
Shaking: I’m so weak.
As he passes I can not speak.
And I dare not!
My thoughts are a jumbled puzzled board.
Once again, I flap around gasping for air.

Who cares about breathing?
I’d hold my breath forever if it meant he’d never leave.
Life being sucked from me like a vampire sucks blood,
Lungs pinned down by the foot of an elephant, I turn blue.
In a small dark corner, heaving.
He nurtured me, fed me, and became my reason for writing.
So for him I’d stop breathing.

I haven’t fallen in love.
I’ve built my life around it.
More than a room with four walls, I have eight.
Like a baby in a fluffy pink blanket, in her mother’s arms, surrounded,
I thank heavens I’ve found him.
Snuggled to his chest, I listen to the thump of his heart.
We are so close; I can share his breath.

But I do not care about breathing.
I gave it up for him
Bounded, lips sky blue; cold and frigid
Chest caving,
Curved like the inner surface of a bowl.
I do not want him to set me free.
I love dangling from the tip of his hook.

I can see breath escape my lips like smoke from a sizzling grill.
And my eyes bulge out like I’m sky diving for the first time.
He completes me, he is my thrill.
Where ever he is, my heart shall lie.
Even if it means I have to die.
So as my breath runs away like an abused child,
I collapse in my love for him.

©copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007

Music Is My People

http://youtube.com/watch?v=faRUm2dacK0 instead of just reading, you can watch me perform this poem, there are also other talented poets reading...enjoy

Rusty cowbells clang like trash cans on collection day.
Rattling the serpent’s tale.
Telling stories of my family, of our history.
A plague of teenage mothers.
It spreads like a forest fire.
“No one wants to close their legs”

Gyration; Music is my people.

Bang, Bang, Bang!
Bang on her goat skin drum.
Lisa’s again in the street; she bounces to the music;
Full round caramel breasts bounce along.
Bleachers bleating to her beat.
While the serpent slithers near her feet.

Gyration; Music is my people.

Play the new songs,
“Ghost move, Belly Yuck”
“Anudda back yad pa-tee”
as dark as nightmares.
A new serpent stares.
He’ll trick her to perform to a new tune.

Gyration; Music is my people.

Heart racing, loud panting, music playing…
“I have a hang over,”
from those damned rusty cowbells.

She made her first child to the music of K.B.
Sweating in a back seat of the stranger’s ride
Lisa “Belly Yucks” as the serpents slides inside.

Gyration; Music is my people.

Music rattled the serpent’s tail;
now she continues our family tradition.
Anudda
Teenage mother.
Gyration; Music is my people.

©copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007

Differences

How did it feel when you traded me
for that cum stained face luxury
that everyone got?

Yes you managed to plant your seeds
in her soiled mound
BUT
will those buds make u a legend now?

You strut into my life like you were invited
so powerful, so strong
so BELIEVABLE.
I was wrong.

An earthquake that ripped me away
from anything familiar
would be more welcomed

I wonder what you saw in me

I am so different:
From that shaved off
drawn on
eyebrows of surprise lady
you already had in your life

So different:
From that immature
“leave mymuthafukin man bitch”
baby mama drama

So different:
From that 16"
Beauty rama
$30 hair
that stands straighter than, your nature.

So different:
Than a one night stand
pass me over to
YOUR RIGHT HAND MAN

Maybe that’s why you left,
I was too different.

My eyes are too real.
I don’t soak then in solution at night.

My nails don't peel off.
No need to have Tammy on speed dial.

My face doesn't come off on the pillow.
So your advances were hollow.

©copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007