return to sender
tables over turned
in a temple
bitten apples
that encourage you
to think different
God has hair
on her pussy
and waits
burning with desire
for you
this is no blasphemy
you have erected
ancient penises
in your capitols
and prayed
in the name
of a father
a male child
and a ghost
i am only revealing
what was hidden
under the floating
white sheet
the same sheet
you crawled under
to reach ecstasy
with your lover
the same sheet
under which
you created life
and progeny
unfasten your mind
from your fears
you cower behind your God
as he leads you into slavery
and war
your curren(cy)t-sea
reflects an army
of dead men
the moon is ignored
you, too, can become
her cyclical sacrament
your children drown
in the cross-fire
you throw search parties
for a profit (f=ph)
and pray
to your rev.enue
your dead ancestors
re-die
in air tight vaults
they conspire
to seduce your children
you have done nothing
to protect them
from the evil eye
i serve
a living God
she is a distorted horn solo
fingered by the hand
of a master
time’s signature
has done no more
than punctuate
her curvature
God plays a human instrument
wind pipes horny
when tongue kisses reed
heart beats bump
over-turned tables
heads nod in affirmation
yes, yes, y’all
you don’t stop
not even when every sign
tells you that you should
your father’s diet
kills him
and you hire
his chef
you wage war
on minimum wage
and the people
purchase their delicacies
from Target
maybe you should aim
elsewhere
a prince
sings of thieves
in a temple
you call your doctor
complaining
of a migraine
she loads
2 leaden pills
into a 3 pound needle
and asks you
where it hurts
hers is the song
you cannot get
from your head
you blame your thoughts
on magdalene
and let bostonians
wash your feet
your sidewalks
scuff your wingtips
your angels fly
through barrels
monkeys laugh at them
intelligence is intuitive
you needn’t learn to love
unless you’ve been taught
to fear and hate
your students
kill each other
and their teachers
they are angry
at not being taught
that pink and floyd
were blues singers
quarantined
from the source of power
that would project their image
as well as their sound
and those
who do not know
their history
are bound to repeat it
unbound, she made her residence
on the dark side of the moon
from her bed-post
and washed
your crusted fears away
“massa always do dat
when miss betsy done gone
to visit her sista. he cain’t wait
to tie dat poor sarah up and
have his way wid her”
your ancestors smile up
from your backpockets
you buy another candy bar
your teeth rot
your head still aches
you’ve gotta do something
about this migraine
your analyst works overtime
your broker calls
urging you to sell your stock
in a certain prescription drug company
before tomorrow’s news
hits the stands
your life savings
in dead men’s currency
you keep your gun
in your desk drawer
movies have taught you
your hiding places
silver screens with bare walls
behind them
the illustrators of bare walls
projected their dreams
beyond their fears
theirs were the walls
of pyramids
yours are the walls
of crumbled towers
the truth still stands
alone
at the dance
waiting for you
to take her hand
you only need ask
you sit behind your desk
ready to aim
at the cloaked thief
in your temple
the spooked groom
who mistakes his bride
for a ghost
she can no longer hide
her form behind her veil
you are a cocked trigger
smuggled into a house of prayer
the statues arouse
your blood to wine
her essence
cupped in her being
she has made herself
available to you
she needn’t steal your heart
if you give it to her
the cops and robbers
of your childhood
neglected to teach you
such simplicity
i came to know her
before she overthrew
my government
it was no conspiracy
only an unraveling
of a fist
her charm
is in her silence
she speaks
in extended parenthesis
hers is the voice from nowhere
the earth
her diaphragm
she speaks
through wind
always giving reverence
to her molten core
fathered by sun and sky
we are offspring of spring
reborn from the bounty
of her nourishment
our father gives
in the one way he knows
she makes the dough
and bids him bake
our daily bread
we set our table at twilight
and hold hands
offering grace to the wind
acknowledging that even he who shines
was born out of the mystery
of her darkness
our mother holds no judgment
she absorbs our father’s light
into her flesh and blood
regenerating
an offering universal
God is a single mother
to the eldest of her children
she is
known by many names
they build their fires
in the night
and tune into her windsong
each dance is known by heart
and foot and mouth
the frenzy of the fire
is our own unquenched desire
to become the one
she takes into her house
have you ever been?
are you experienced?
have you ever been
to electric lady land?
did you drink from the fountain?
did you bask in her molten core?
did she call your name
and guide you to her peak?
did you feel her quake and tremble?
did you feel the need to restrain her?
did she unmask her loving fury?
did she frighten you?
did you question what it felt like
to have someone inside of you?
to swallow life and incubate
a world to come?
did you ask her how it felt
to be God incarnate?
to be daughter of the moon
bearing the sun?
this is her body
this is her blood
tithes and offerings
made to the father
have kept buddha laughing
he knows that dharmic needs
are karmic deeds undone
a love supreme
summoned from dreams
fuses now
with the hereafter
as spirit to flesh
is melded by the sun
oya, kali ma
here is an offering
these words recited
from my heart
to yours and yours
i am thankful for the trees
shaped into coffins
that we now shred
to bed these words
within our cores
paper mills
may you recycle
all that was stolen
and/or lost
so that these newest testaments
might come at lesser costs
what is the cost of freedom?
and how is it paid?
to be free
of the rigmarole
of age old traditions
based on submission and fear
one must pay with the courage
to stand alone
to be free
of the restraints
of a culture
that instills the will
of material possession and domination
into its citizens
one must learn to honor
the substance of their materials
and the etymological roots
of their findings
mater: fr. Latin.meaning mother
this is a material world
your priests and presidents
no longer matter
only you and i, my love
in order to commune
we must dismiss the false gods
we have granted domain
over our will and testament
this earth is our sanctuary
nothing more need be built
our mother
has erected
mountains of quartz
we only need climb
to synchronize our hearts
with hers
the truth
erupts from her core
we court a corrupted institution
subject to the division of its faculty
we are tenured students of intuition
professors of a truth beyond reason
schooled in the over priced cities
in the valleys of our consciousness
we are charged
for our own discharge
we look to the mother
knowing that our imposed tuition
will be covered
install our payment plans
in pele’s tears
all disaster
is both natural
and preventable
but imposed force
will only manifest
your fears
come, my love
we have mountains to climb
wilderness to wander
you have shown me
a love that cannot be
given or taken
let us bask
in the fullness
of ourselves
a simple kiss
now blood and breath
both awakened
a balanced diet
to sustain
life and health
we will wax and wane
in attention given from our father
we can trust he will return
yet, she is here
she has granted us this land
to forge her cycle
and when we doubt
places the ocean
in our tears
come, my love
we have oceans to sail
the painted nature
of this earth
is water-based
and will fade
if not tended
let us retrace the origin
of a kiss
they have ravished
your heart and mind
but your breath
travels freely
out of your mouth
and into mine
there is the current
i wish to sail
here is a love
uncharted
throw away your map
and swallow
this cratered pill
pull it from the sky
and let it dissolve
under your tongue
it is only a matter of time
before we are timeless
do you feel it yet?
wow
i can trace
each shadow
back to its origin
can you feel it yet?
drink more water
take deeper breaths
wow
why have i been
so afraid of love?
so afraid of being vulnerable?
so afraid of being open?
it’s like
every mannerism and gesture
was a lie
some sort of shield
to protect me
from the judgment
of others
oh my god
turn the music up
wow
do you feel that bass line?
it feels like a snake
how could you not
yield to temptation?
why would you not?
dance!
yeah!
eve was just open
and that’s what scared
that father/sun god
ha! that’s why they named her eve
they were just afraid of the dark
scared of their mother’s own womb
afraid of the unknown
what happens to a society
when mystery is labeled
as evil?
it yields an ever-connected chain
of false labels and misinterpretations
the indigenous are labeled
as savage terrorists
and plotted against
the open-hearted
are manipulated into slavery
the vulnerable are penetrated
by force of law
citizens
where is your allegiance?
why do you pledge
with a covered heart
when it needs be opened?
why do you bear arms
with balled fists
and closed palms?
why do you call yourself
a patriot (pater: fr. Latin.meaning father)
when your greatest
love has always been
for your mother?
this loaded phallus
has becum
the prevailing metaphor
of the day
you’ve spent your chi
on cheap versions
of the virgin
you’ve worshipped
loopholes in a story
and war shipped
mythic men to glory
if in god’s image
then your god’s
a plastic surgeon
a tyrannic dictator
a coward behind a curtain
with a megaphone
an aging oil tycoon
on viagra
ramming his plow
into the earth
turning up disease
and disaster
out of an ever-drying womb
you will become her cyclical sacrament
menstrual minstrels
footing your own bill
of right left right
marching blindly
into a moonless night
another dimension
where children use chalk
on the sidewalk
tracing their bodies
for the precriminal investigation
of their paternal inheritance:
murder!
men in uniform
take note
love refuses
to take cover
the cloaked enchantress
of your faith
now prevails
if you refuse
yourself and her
then take the fire
from your holster
and lend your breath
so that my love and i
may sail
ready
aim
fire!
water
earth
wind
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am eternally indebted to so many who have helped bring this book to your hands: my literary agent, Charlotte Gusay, who works hard at keeping me from being a flake. Thank you everyone at MTV/Pocket Books for your commitment and for investing your talents and time into mine: Liate Stehlik at Pocket Books and Demond Jarrett, my editor. Jacob Hoye at MTV Books and all of the graphic designers and associates who have worked on this project. I would especially like to thank my manager, Sara Newkirk, and her assistant, Amirah, who have helped me envision a practical means of artistic growth and merit, and my lawyer, Jennifer Justice. I would like to offer all of you my sincere gratitude for being in your position and having the heart and savvy to honor mine. I pray that we all continue to work together to bring about the necessary fulfillment of our destinies.