When They're Down (Colorized)
October 26, 2019
October 12, 2019
Dark Red Mask
October 10, 2019
The Lonely Tabernacle
September 26, 2019
September 23, 2019
August 1, 2019
October 1, 2017
I am the night sky,
all-consuming and heavy.
I am the oil in your car,
the rubber of your tires,
essential and necessary for motion.
I am the dreadlocks of a black mother,
the worn hands of a black father home from work,
the ink of the Founding Father's pen,
the dilated pupils of a hopeful black boy,
Obama's black hair before we wore him grey.
I am the very bedrock on which any great nation is built.
I am not the absence of color,
for I have absorbed them all.
I am not jealous of the other colors,
although I am not in the rainbow.
I am not jealous of fire,
for no matter, how bright the flames glow,
the fire will die and ashes to ashes it will go.
I am the shadow that follows you all your life,
surely following in step right behind you.
I am the slender stripes on the back of the sleek tiger,
the stripes on the zebra,
I am the primed, and powerful panther,
ready to pounce.
Creased, Midnight, Obsidian, Patent Leather shoes
the moonwalking penny loafers of a King.
I am the revolver hidden at your bedside
and the bible beside it.
The blackened cancerous lung of a smoker,
and the x-ray used to diagnose it.
BB King's Lucille, Johnny Cash's guitar.
I am the finest caviar.
I am not at all jealous of the light,
for it too has its time.
I am not jealous of the light,
because those who fear my darkness find comfort in me in the night time.
June featured poetry
Mark Theodore Meneses
November 2019 (4)
October 2019 (12)
September 2019 (18)
August 2019 (1)
June 2019 (13)
May 2019 (17)
April 2019 (21)
March 2019 (19)
February 2019 (16)
January 2019 (16)
December 2018 (25)