install theme

1.
It’s raining outside.
Its scent seeps beneath the front door
and into my lungs—it’s raining inside.
I feel my pulse beating at my chest;
I feel it wrenching at the bars of my cage,
stretching tissue and skin,
striving to stay afloat, but I can’t manage
to wipe the wet from my eyes:
I am this new-fangled woman
vomiting my needs across this tainted country.
I am hungry with tight, bare pockets
and an empty, humming refrigerator.
I am the woman whose dreams
are no longer a realm of make believe
and fiction; they are merely
blueprints of tomorrows.
I am this shameful being
with an unbearable secret
lodged into the crevices of my mind
and a timeline trotting through my veins.


2.
Through the wet, though,
my senses recall
my ancient, swarthy grandmothers
retaining their truths:
through the rhythm of their blues
necks were arched, throats vibrated
with a song and a psalm.
Ripe womb after womb
bended their backs, their spirits
through invasions of humanity
to leave me the taste of existence
whether it rains or not.
There is no haven, here, to be soft,
no time to pause for an instant to cry,
no room for a weak shaded woman.
Here, in this patriarchal land
of red (blood), white (skin), and blue (hearts),
I wipe my eyes and realize
I must stay afloat.

- m.d. rayHerstory
, #m.d. ray #poetry #poets on tumblr #poem #spilled ink #history #herstory #rain #tears #crying #ancestors #truth #wake up #blues #the blues #psalm #red white and blue #America #American #USA #tbt #Throwback Thursday

A few thoughts I want Tomorrow to know
in case we never meet:

I’ve spent a lot of my days daydreaming
and sleepless hours of my nights
huddled in condemned parts of myself
staring into big, multi-brown eyes
of a little girl who was weaned from the breast
of a foreigner with dark hair
and Jesus complexion from
La Republica Dominicana reminding me

‘You will always have a home
because you will always be loved.’

That little girl once possessed dreams
of taking flight to mars,
gliding across ice,
strutting the catwalk,
crooning songs of trials and hope…

She had a head full of coiling tendrils
that glistened and bounced with life
and the scent of coconut that took her
to Nassau on the rocks again.
She was certain the Chico in the first grade,
that bashfully puckered his lips
and autographed his presence
on her left cheek,
was the boy she was to marry
(whether she knew how to salsa or not).

I remember she surreptitiously discovered
hip-hop and obscene language
through headphones reciting Slick Rick
and Warren G’s ‘Behind Bars.’
Oh, how Poetry then found its way to her…
She’s been looking for Langston Hughes,
Allen Ginsberg and Dr. Seuss ever since.
Or how she gripped a blue, bold tip pen
and illustrated her body with imagination
one lonesome afternoon.

She used to anticipate
her father’s arrival home from work
and his routine of ice-cold beer evenings
so that she could wrap her senses
around Heineken bottle caps.

And through Heineken bottle caps
she’s reminded of her culture
that reminded her of being biracial,
that reminded her of discrimination,
that reminded her of having few comrades
to turn to and confide in
leaving her with the feeling of loneliness
that drove her to blue, bold tip pens,
only this time she found paper.

- m.d. ray, Memories Take Over and I’m There Again
, #m.d. ray #poetry #poets on tumblr #poem #spilled ink #memories #nostalgia #Dominican Republic #Bahamas #daydreaming #dreams #foreigner #Jesus #love #Nassau #chico #salsa #hip-hop #Warren G #Slick Rick #Langston Hughes #Allen Ginsberg #Dr. Seuss #blue pen #imagination #mother #father #Heineken #biracial #discrimination

I am not an exhibition.

I have a tendency
to ruin moments that are meant
to caress the heart
and bring ease to the mind.
I just don’t know how
to unfold myself to accept
the comfort of other people anymore
without feeling like a fish in a tank:
their eyes tracing me, glaring,
trying to figure out how human I am.
Maybe I have been in this tank
alone for too long and I am just tired
of everyone tapping at the glass
like I’m some sort of sideshow.

I am not an exhibition.

- m.d. rayDo Not Tap the Glass
, #m.d. ray #poetry #poets on tumblr #poem #spilled ink #fish #tank #fish tank #exhibition #exibit #display #sideshow #freak show #swimming #just keep swimming #alone #lonely #glass #do not tap the glass

I want to fall into a profound slumber
and dream forever like time,
forever like the universes
revolving around each other.

I want to imagine the many stars
catching the multitude
of ancient hopes and wishes
fallen through them.

Here, I humbly engulf
all pains and pleasures and still,
I am weightless like space,
peaceful like a meditating monk.

I wonder if this this what God feels like?

- m.d. rayThis Must Be God
, #m.d. ray #poets on tumblr #poetry #poem #spilled ink #God #slumber #sleep #dream #time #universe #stars #wishes #hopes #pain #pleasure #monk #meditating #meditation #wonder #ancient

My mother once told me
that if you don’t enjoy
the youth of your childhood,
you’ll spend the rest of your life
searching for the inner kid
who forgot to live.
And after all her warnings,
my mind still matured quicker
than what the rate
of my age ever could.
Now I live out these days
wanting to crawl back
to the womb of my childhood
where my brother
took the form of my first friend
and pillow fortresses
were our domain.

- m.d. rayGrowing Up 101
, #m.d. ray #poetry #poets on tumblr #poem #spilled ink #childhood #inner kid #growing up #101 #youth #children #kid
I found myself on the steps of Lake Pontchartrain at sunset with a blunt in one hand, a pen the other and my Bass Man by my side. I wish this moment was forever like eternity.
And when I pass from this timeline, I hope this is what eternity looks like. I hope this is what it feels like.
— m.d. ray

I found myself on the steps of Lake Pontchartrain at sunset with a blunt in one hand, a pen the other and my Bass Man by my side. I wish this moment was forever like eternity.

And when I pass from this timeline, I hope this is what eternity looks like. I hope this is what it feels like.

m.d. ray

, #m.d. ray #Lake Pontchartrain #New Orleans #Nola #sunset #steps #water #waves #blunt #smoking #weed #marijuana #love #pen #poetry #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #creative writing #Bass Man #bass #timeline #eternity #no filter

Broken People need to be reminded of how loved they are. They need to be told that they’re still beautiful. All they have are the voices in their heads and you can only imagine what they’re telling them on a regular basis. Broken People can’t hear or see the world as others do—they don’t remember how. Something or someone has clouded their better judgment and so they’re lost…even in their own skin.

Can you imagine? Waking up one morning feeling trapped in a body that suddenly feels foreign in a world that no longer holds a haven.

Some people aren’t fit to be with Broken People. They forget how to be compassionate and sympathetic; they forget that the world consists of more than just their logic. They say things like, “Stop being so depressed. There’re people in this world who’re worst off than you.” This. This is a silver bullet piercing the heart, a blunt blade pressing into the chest. If this is so, then no one is fit to even be happy because someone will always have it better than you.

Sometimes, all a broken person needs is someone to cradle their head with love and remind them that they’re never alone.

Never.

- m.d. ray, Broken People
, #m.d. ray #poetry #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #creative writing #broken #broken people #sorrow #depressed #hurt #never alone #love

Raise your voice against liars,
against governments,
against those who refuse
to honor their word.
When i say it’s The Man
trying to bring us down
i mean The Man
doesn’t have to try anymore:

beneath the glass ceiling
Is where we reside;
the bottom is where we lay.
So, yes, i am an angry Black woman,
an angry Latina
told to go back to my country
after i paid taxes,
but i belong neither here nor there

—my country doesn’t exist.
My country of a mixed people,
and mixed blood,
and vital thoughts
doesn’t exist.
Freedom doesn’t exist.
If the patriarchs can’t see or hear
what you write,
freedom still doesn’t exist.

So surviving is hard, living is harder.
Finding truth and loyalty between Mars
and Venus is hard, but i try
to live with a prayer in my spirit
and a fight in my heart
because it’s the heart beat
that beats the mind awake

when it’s more than hemp
lifting me high into time, into history,
into herstory, into
vast space beneath my skull.
Space beneath scalp,
beneath skull is too complex.
My dreams are too complex,

but i’d dream all day.
i’d dream i’d seen God’s face
who saved me from this place
and made space between
Her and Herself for me and my sins.
And i was told that there’s no sin
greater than the other,
but i know my motives can’t be
half as bad as others

who hung limbs from tree limbs
and tainted rivers with blood.
So don’t drink the water,
no instead,
pick from the vines.
Truth be that bitter fruit
with roots as deep as their lies.

And the only beings who knows this
are those who are willing
to pump their fists in the air and rise
past the ceiling
till shards of glass slices
Mother Earth
and blood oozes from her dirt

that birthed the bass player, the poet;
the activist, the feminist;
the homosexual, the outcast;
the lovers, the creators;
the forgiven, but never forgotten,
the original minds who believe they’ll last forever
or as far as forever will take them.

So next time The Man tries to define
what the all red, white, and blue flag means,
i hope he doesn’t try
to give me some sorry ass excuse
like freedom.

- m.d. rayUproar
, #m.d. ray #poetry #poets on tumblr #poem #spilled ink #uproar #revolution #rebel #the man #america #wake up #angry black woman #latina #government #my country #mixed people #mixed blood #freedom #patriarchs #write #revolt #history #herstory #don't drink the water #mother earth #poet #bass player #activist #feminist #homosexual
^