There is a massive cloud Stretching from the Puget Sound To the Chesapeake Bay. The peak of Mount Rainer Pierces it, and it bleeds acidic liquid— Not quite water, yet not quite deadly. Sugarloaf Mountain reaches for it, But this cloud extends beyond The mountain’s grasp. Ghosts Of Confederate cavalrymen, cloaked In bleached hoods, grab their Sharps Rifles and fire upon the cloud. They...
Game Of Thrones
i broke a glass chess set—smashed it with a hammer just because i could Copyright 2012 A. J. Hayes Give a poet a pen
Uninvited Guest In God's Palace
The stars are just as beautiful When viewed in outer space. You’re wrapped in an invisible Forcefield cocoon, swimming In the zero-gravity vacuum. The magnitude of the universe Is the only pressure you feel. Seeing stars in the distance, You imagine them as tiny Electrons clouding around the Nucleus of god. Then you realize These seemingly microscopic specks Of glowing gasses are infinitely...
Hug a tree — although it is three times your height, three times your age, and its bark is stronger than your skin. Hug it because it is there. Hug a child — although she or he, when upright, barely reaches your knees; still giggles at darting spirits, and has cotton-soft skin. Hug him or her just because. Copyright 2012 A. J. Hayes Give a poet a pen
Untitled (Free Write 1)
Under a poisoned moon I wait for you. Come hither To the vortex of kisses I send to you from long ago. I forgot the warmth of A handmade quilt during A blizzard. A dog’s sloppy Kiss has never intrigued Me so much beforehand. Nights like this I pray Eternity doesn’t exist. This moment cannot Continue, it must end. I’d rather have a memory Than nothing at all. Copyright 2012 A....
There is life without me. But without me, I wouldn’t know about that life. It’s different from forgotten: it’s never known. Nay, it is worse than that. This future is impossible for me to know. I am a tyrannosaurus rex mourning never having a clue about the possibility of moonwalking with Captain Eo. Copyright 2012 A. J. Hayes Give a poet a pen
Forget Me Not
Forget me not, but not because There is a burning itch in your chest, Nor for the tightness in your throat. Forget me not, but not because There is a lamp in your eyes That turns on whenever I’m around. Forget me not because, When you sleep, my translucent Form pulls the blanket up to Your chin, and my lips kiss you On your forehead. Goodbye. Copyright 2012 A. J. Hayes Give a poet a pen
Save me from the blast of high powered tornado winds. There’s a storm a-coming. Board up the house windows, then get far away from them. You’ll have to guess, from listening to the welter of noises, what is going on out there. Is it just a hurricane? Perhaps the end of the world? Or is it the zombie apocalypse? Copyright 2012 A. J. Hayes Give a poet a pen
Wild Thing & Bears
The wild thing has left to go where the others are— where winter’s bears sleep. Copyright 2012 A. J. Hayes Give a poet a pen
What They Do
Over here, the people are the color of clay. Over there, they are the color of steel. We have hair of wool and tongues of cotton. Their hair is leathery, their tongues are saffron. Why does this matter? We don’t know. Who really cares? They do. Copyright 2012 A. J. Hayes Give a poet a pen
Heat Of Breath
Entangled: she forgot how. Strangled: he forgot why. Asphyxiated: umbilical cord Wrapped around unborn Child’s neck. Choking. As mommy sometimes Did to daddy. Or as Daddy did to mommy— But only during bedtime romps. She was more prone To act upon her anger. Both masked violence As love. He was the daddy, No doubt, of both of them. He should have been more Careful with them both. Worn...
People Who Eat Darkness
The people who eat darkness Are the real cannibals. They come to the beautiful Land of humanity’s origins With poisoned prejudice, Then leave with human cargo And gold, diamonds and rare Animals, cobalt and artifacts. The people who eat blackness Are the real cannibals. They attempt to erase Millennia of black history, Just as the Roman Senate Destroyed records and statues Of Commodus after...
I imagine it as it must had been In her younger days: a vibrant Decoration upon smooth, honey-brown skin. Violets—outlined in black with petals, Shaded in the color of their namesake— Sprout forth from the small of her back, Stretch out and spread their flowing Petals across her shoulder blades. I’ve seen photos of her in her 20s Alternate on her slideshow picture frame. She...
Forget everything you thought you knew about me. Don’t even think about the fire blazing in your palms. I can’t be held. I’m not safe. I’m not a tree soaking in April’s fluid rays. I am not a fawn rustling forest grass. I am nothing so beautiful and gentle. I am the dervish that lives inside a hurricane, the jinn within the tornado. I am a thousand other things. I sit...
No One Knows My Troubles
Move into the shadows. The stars are rippling by. We either meet or We collide in the ether. Troublesome, this thing called fate. Copyright 2012 A. J. Hayes Give a poet a pen
The Sun is angry Wrapped in a cloak of clouds, she Turns her back to spring Copyright 2012 A. J. Hayes Give a poet a pen
Winter Is Over
It isn’t that I dislike winter. I don’t mind the cold, The air is easier to breathe, And the pewter colored sky is calming. Winter was the last time Her and I had a serious talk, Though it wasn’t a long conversation. In fact, she only said two words. “It’s over.” Just like that, winter was over. No more nights sharing hot chocolate Underneath the quilt her...
Not In Chains
I endure pains, all the bullets and bombs they gave, but not in chains. Her promise stains. She beats me until I behave. I endure pains. Locked, with remains of dead buffalo, in a cave, but not in chains. Fed poisoned grains, unhealthy food meant to deprave; I endure pains. He who detains, cuts my flesh with a bloody wave— but not in chains. Anger retains as life continues as a slave. I...
The next round in the endless battle Has begun. She rolls her tweets Of Aristotelian logic — ripped From the headlines of Kemetic scrolls — Like a newspaper. She then beats Her target over the head with it, As if her opponent is a dead horse Or a dog who had soiled her Persian rug. “See! See what you did?” she screams As she retweets the offending message As if she is...
Hearts are nice, but I can’t live In one. Inspiration might feed Your soul; my stomach still sings Epic ballads of the glory of past Meals eaten. At night. It is hard To sleep on a mattress on the floor. Cold air tumbles; my throat has Sprouted ice crystals. This 12x12 Lifestyle has kept me boxed in. I like to consider myself a lucky one. I have no mouth, and I must scream! If I had a mouth,...