#jay's verse

[queerandcalm]

Take the soft edges The folds in their clothing The warmth of their open palm Take two teaspoons of cinnamon Three cups of sugar Four presses of their lips against your cheeks Mix slow the butterflies in your chest Pour in the tear that crawled down their face On to your palm and into your heart Roll their laughter out on the cutting board Kneed in the love notes that were left at your door In the spaces in your papers, scattered across the floor Heat for an hour on high In your Home built with given and taken kisses of whisperers of sweet dreams into the curl of their hair Sprinkle the electricity of their touch The cracking of book spines The light of their smile Serve with your heart, hands open wide You built up walls and they carved beauty into them Took each brick and pressed fire into you This love was grown in your garden In your bedroom, In your conjoined closet In the dining room table that was to big for the door But They turned the world inside out for you And you place sunshine on the side of the plate The sweet feeling of their happiness wafting through the room This love is food for the soul

“Homemade”

[queerandcalm]

Softly into the night The moon light grazes her face Reverence trickled out of her faucet Beautiful her wet hands as they grasped my ankles The washcloth pressed the life back into my dirty feet Wiped the blood away My nails clacked against the counter Like the jar of teeth in her cupboard Behind the rolls of nickels and perfume Macabre was her childhood so it made her mementos There was magic in her she couldn’t hide It grew in her flower vases And the spaces between her toes The soft smell of lilac and ozone Why did the night hold so much more than stars She would ask slipping her hand between my ribs Tugging at my at my arteries Testing every fiber of my being I don’t know how she would pull back always finding me worthy Because it has to I would always reply Still feeling the glass beneath my feet Cold and smooth The night use to be fear Reaching into my stomach and twisting Wrapping around my throat Pressing breath out of my lungs The night brought her So I stepped out into the grasping hollowness The space between constellations Earth spun around my foot steps And the trees were still silhouettes The stairs still shouted like the news on TV The wind still sighed like disappointment The dark still put lead in my bone and heavy in my heart But she was there Why do you seek out where fear lives She would say her thoughts quiet Her heart secure Her lips not trembling Because it’s with you I would almost reply Softly into the night

[dragon-on-ice]

Fifty people died today While Pride flags hung around the room like blasphemous banners Shouting out the the world, We are here Fifty people died today How those banners fell like rags to the floor There is pain in this life yes but our children didn’t love and live to become body counts --- The sirens blared out, bleached the air with their screams The world was tainted with the worst kind of ugliness The shooter fit the profile, the radical, Islam knocking at our doors Coming for our blood, but it was our blood not yours that painted the pavement that night And while we’re bleeding in the streets The News anchors were just waiting for this hail Mary of gun violence Of dispensation of human life at this level To justify the hellfire that will come down upon children in the streets As they march on their war path It isn’t the children of Muhammad that are to blame We are the same You create a monster and now they’re bleeding too Ripped full with bullet wounds as numerous as the stars They say it was an act of terror when The guns sounded But we’ve been under fire since we were born Bloody and torn from the womb We screamed out for help But our blood wasn’t good enough for you --- They called it pulse, The beat of the Latin people that congregated Dancing and singing, forgetting wounds and woes Feeling the throws of passion just for being alive Or just finding warmth in the night Beauty comes from that thing that we search for in ourselves Elation, euphoria, we catch glimpses of it around corners, In back alleys, in the dark, the night Where is their beauty today I ask you Why did you take it away --- Fifty people died today We find solidarity, somewhere soft in our bedrooms We mourn with every breath We hurt with every word But we fight with every beat of our hearts With ever pulse Our resistance is to exist in a world that wants to murder us in the streets So I ask you How many pulses have to stop Before you hear the silence? Fifty People died today Are you listening yet?

“Pulse” by Jay A. Rogers

[dragon-on-ice]

there are peoples who read stories

ingest the pulp of the pages with a systematic sentiment

take every ink drop for the curve of it’s form and then snap the book shut.

not to be pursued again

never wondering done the long isles to the intersection of paper and proliferation

the left hand turn to daydreams and an insatiable appetite for imaginings

never filling their bellies with the warmth of a world that has been finished in perception

but never put back on the shelf.

always held close in hand, in heart, in the hidden corners of cities we call consciousness  

never too far beneath every laugh, every whisper

every stoplight brings forth fountains, and festivals, every stop for breath a hurricane, every moment a monument, every quiet is filled with the din of a thousand words, a thousand voices

of unsung sorrows, fears, hopes, futures, pasts, a metropolis of lives that someone put a period at the end of

for no reason

Dreamers read books and they see the dance of the lines between each paragraph brake. the sigh that lies beneath each comma, every letter, every mossle, ever drop ink, is a voice crying out make me immortal.

to a story teller a period, is semi colon, 

and the book is never shut;

[hashtag-gymlife]

They are previewing all of B's 17? videos on 106 right now. But this joint....