a country song came on about a chicken fried on a Friday night, and I couldn't help but feel nostalgic hearing this tune by Zac Brown Band, thinking on times when I used to clean Emporia stalls in the old run-down Emporia mall and man, I miss that lil ol racist town. There’s a … Continue reading While Working At Tarjay (Emporia Song)
Head Down
Lately my head has been down constantly working my 9 to 5 in the footsteps of my father’s shadow. I have not much interaction with my family since I flew across states to see them all at the funeral. Social media posts aren’t as frequent when bills are burning holes in my wallet, … Continue reading Head Down
(WEED CUTTER) dear reader,
This is not just an art piece hanging color strokes on naked walls. This is not just poetry with words flowing free This is just not a story perfect that’s … Continue reading (WEED CUTTER) dear reader,
First Name, Last Name
If I ring up one more guest and they mispronounce my first name by not implementing the “uh” and then the silent “L,” I will continue to smile and ring up the next guest because I can’t afford to lose the only job I have even though my name is apparently “Unusual” to Nancy and … Continue reading First Name, Last Name
Not A Domestication Girl
She can’t stand sitting in four walls any longer while I cashier for low pay, and come home to reminisce on my degree and watch her clipped wings bleed until grad school starts at Howard. i feel all i can do is kiss her goodbye, and come back to watch her bleed more when temp … Continue reading Not A Domestication Girl
Mortality: A Reality
People die, and you won’t see them again in this life, maybe ever
Desperate Times Are Calling
So desperate, i would ask a white man in a suit if the presumed company he worked for we’re hiring new editing recruits, while we were standing waiting for the train to come, so he can presumably go to work, and so i can go to work.
Closing Shift
i finished closing an eight-hour shift doing Bullseyes’ work, and i literally just missed the only to take me straight home, and of course i was salty watching drunk descendants of Asia in their red, white and blue mini skirts and boat shoes on the eve of the colonizers Independence Day, tripping over themselves and … Continue reading Closing Shift
Poetic Tears
It was poetic, her tears washing my t-shirt, and rinsing her sorrows in the follicles of the cotton, picking black girl, some don’t know that when she cries today on my open chest, her tears are gazing at Ivory, and her mind is on bittertart and sour memories, reminiscent of the dark reaper taking … Continue reading Poetic Tears
Hold My Hand
Early dark mornings remind me of disparity that comes before tranquility just when sleeping bodies meet eyes opening like new baby born to a new day. Tell myself “It’s all good, Young Blood, you’re journey hasn’t even begun yet. It’s only beginning,” and listen now to whispers of the future.
thesightofvaleer 