EXcavation [excerpt from “Raising Suns (And Other Celestial Bodies)”]

finding pieces of men
protruding from the earth
in a perverse cemetery

full of
winding torsos
and intended smiles,
sentient statues that sneer
in passing with living eyes

and though half buried,
they remain
erect and expecting eager hands
to delve beneath the earth
for their pedestals


-Rahk.

Which Version Do You Like Best? (Please comment)

For Mrs. Davis-Williams (Previously entitled “Namings”)

You shared
that an author is the sum
of his own voices
that a child’s ramblings
wrinkle time
that a young poet’s words
are testaments to wisdom
and I trusted your reading.

You were a librarian after all.
You, with that every-womam smile.

I was an honored book
uncertain of my pages.
Yet to trust the voices
narrating my story.

You did.


Namings (Original)

As I read adolescent poems

You read me.
Professed that an author is the sum
of his own voices.

I trusted your reading.
You were a librarian after all.
I, an honored book
yet to turn his own pages.
Yet to hear the voices
possessing my stories

You did.
Told me Angelou
was my mother

as I recited stories
that were not yet my own

You, with that every-woman smile,
read a collection of namings
in mine


Thank you for reading. I enjoy the revision process but it is also infuriating sometimes. Please help me out by commenting with the title of the poem you like the most. Thanks!

Her Thorns (excerpt from “Raising Suns”)

She knew
before the softness
of her petals
bouqueted her thoughts

Before her nature tamed suns
into survival

Before her pistil
pollenated a need to bloom

After a lover proclaimed,
on the final tug: “I love you not”

Daughters (Excerpt from “Raising Suns”)

She hand washes towels and folds them tenderly, uses the most delicate detergents. Dries them in the breeze or in her lap, whichever’s warmest.

She cleans the dishes, scrubs the stove, vacuums the carpet, she folds the towels.

Her mother always said a wife is only as good as her ability to keep a home. Her ability to organize and fold. Her ability to nurture and nature and take care.

Her mother always told her that good wives don’t believe in divorce. That what God joined together, let no man.

And she’d always black out after that…she blacks out a lot nowadays. Since her vows. Let no man–

Til death, her mother said, and she died often–

When his mistress left him when his boss docked his pay when the white towels boasted brown stains.

So she makes sure to wash clothes, to fold the towels after scrubbing away the stains, after soaking her body in Epsom salts.

Her mother always told her a decent wife is only as good as her housework and a husband, decent or not, is only as good as his whims.


-Rahk.

Chapters 10-11 (Excerpts from “Master of Silence”)

Chapter 10-Bible Study

and the esteemed master teacher

bent the pulpit to his will
in the name of the spirit, saying:

“Woman must be clay
to leave room for a husband

Woman must be clay
to leave room for a career

Woman must be clay
to leave room for her children

Woman must be clay
to leave room for God”


Chapter 11-Sunday School

“Master teacher?”

“Yes, little Rahk?”

“Why must woman be clay?”

“To leave room…”

“But what about her womb?”

“What about it, son?”

“–It expands as life grows.
But the room woman leaves
seem to keep doors closed…”

“Well, I’ll tell you this, I’ll tell you no more than twice.
Woman must certainly leave enough room
to open the door for Wife.”

“That’s not what The Spirit says,” insisted Rahk.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this!”

“The Spirit says she is water
and man must make room for her mist.”

Chapter 7: Spirit World (Excerpt from “Master of Silence”)

Avatar Maya turned a sunray inside out,

smiling big as she sewed the fragile thing to a cloud

The wonderful thing about rainbows does not lie in its sheen

But in how often honest souls smile when a rainbow is seen”

then she shimmered and galaxies shimmied in the wind as she smiled a solar flare

and baby clouds giggle-glowed

while weaving laughter in her hair


Rest in love, Dr. Maya Angelou

No More Hand Me Downs

this weight is not mine
i won’t wear it

you can keep it for yourself
since you want to be down

this weight is not mine
i won’t wear it

don’t care how stylish it is
don’t matter how fine an antique–
don’t nothing that heavy belong to me

keep it for yourself
if you want to be down


-Rahk.

#poem, #poetry, #raw, #relationships, #sons