poetic license homeTeacher's LoungeYouth Voicefilm room

online poetrydiscussionresources
Online Poetry Journal


august edition

Forever More
by Charmika Stewart

In an Orange Field
by Bridgette Chabot

Untitled
by Hardwick

Ceilings in the Skies
by José A. Vadi

Time and Space
by Allyson Fredericksen








submit a poem
for next month's edition

go to current edition




archives



Ceilings in the Skies
by José A. Vadi

Sometimes,
We try to slip by the gates that await to meet our fates,
with destiny standing to collect the tolls of what awaits -
the present -
See, these verbal ejaculations discharge fluids of stable elations,
Proud of my past, yet bound to it in fast.
Not eating the fruit of the now
because I'm stuck in the prim roe's path of your life -
The past.
Dead, yes, but alive still,
keeping me dry while I swim in oceans of the future.
Taking deep breaths to swallow this regret,
trying not to drown amidst the heavy currents of past debts:
Issues, dismissals, of what old loves did to you.
Coming up for air in an enclosed infinity,
Puncturing walls to give life to this sterility,
because the fruit of the now has rotted
while you're stuck in the prim roe's path of your life -
the past.
I look above, quick fast way up top,
to the tall skyscrapers cruising over the block.
Trying to find life from what liberty demands,
Because I have no land and I'm part three-fifths of man
that you can see in the dark inoculated echoes of my grandfather's skin,
And though you can't see it on me now, it's there -
Lingering...crawling...convulsing,
Spouting out so-called "terrorist" phrases,
when all I want is some honest arraignments,
So let's raise this bar and find the millions of racists
Who tied the ropes that hung from trees around the necks
Of forefather's graces;
Let's find the Nicaraguans trapped in their self-dug coffins,
and when the dirt's not concealed we'll feel abuelitas' eruptions,
Spouting hot lava at a system she once believed was true,
when all she had was God, her son...and suddenly she knew,
See...'cause the fruit of the now is stuck
on the path of the vendor,
the voice with a spot in life's paradoxical splendor.
But he's stuck in society's prim roe's path,
While swimming toward ceiling tops,
Struggling to get a gasp.


home | teacher's lounge | youth voice | film room | order | contact | ITVS

Copyright © 2001 Straight Ahead Productions. All Rights Reserved.