POEM TO AN ALMOST BOYFRIEND

Yesterday was everything it promised to be-

I saw you again accidentally.

You called out to me with that voice I once knew

And it brought back memories hidden from view,

From the farthest spaces of my mind-

All the thoughts I’d left behind.

I thought you’d always be there to catch me when I fall,

You’d always be there to answer my call

But when I wept for you that night in the dark

And I realized all of it was falling apart,

You closed yourself up like you always do

And I knew for sure I’d lost you.

You never touched me, I don’t know if you wanted to

But as to what it is you wanted, I hadn’t a clue.

You gave me so many subtle signs

But the truth is you failed to define

What you wanted me to be for you.

You weren’t perfect but I can’t blame you

I was too late; we both know it’s true.

You screamed out when I hurt you, but I turned a deaf ear

Now all that is past, it’s been about a year.

I still think of you suddenly in the middle of a crowd

And back to haunt me come all my doubts.

But I steady myself; I’m not as weak as they say

We’ll always have our memories; no one can take them away.

If we meet again, say, ten years from now

(I don’t know where that might happen or how)

I promise you this; once again we’ll find ourselves-

The way we used to be-on memory aisle’s dusty shelves.

We’ll make those moments special and they’ll get me through

The rest of my life without regretting my encounters with you.

P.S. You punctuate me!

HUNGER

(Inspired by the movie 'Blood Diamond' and the Live 8 concerts before the G8 summit)

After a hard day's work at the diamond fields,

they come home and this time they won't yield

to their mother's lame excuses,her borrowed time

"We want food!",in unison their voices chime

"We don't want hot water with shards of wood.

We want something to chew upon,mother,we want real food.

You can't tranquilize us anymore promising food when we wake,

The hustlers down in the fields have taught us,it's all fake.

They've taught us-if we want our bread,we have to induce fear

into the minds of those who claim they love us and they care.

So here we are,back with the Master's gun

Let us know when your cooking is done.

To our hearts' content,we'll have our fill

and then we'll go back down the hill

to the river where our sweat and blood flows,

where cruelty speaks and anything goes.

Your fairytales never taught us how the real world works

Only the hustlers' ambition could do that,for in our nightmare lurks

the mad cracking of the Master's leather whip

and if you ever wondered,that's why we scream in our sleep..."