poem: no place like home

"no place like home"

Mom returns home from work,
washes her hands, turns on her soap
and prepares the boys an early dinner.

Drawers and doors are shutting,
the smell of fish grease creeps up the stairs,
beneath me, the kitchen is bubbling.

Dad creaks out of his daily deathbed
takes a piss and thunders down the stairs
like the load of his life is too much to bare.

Mother calls me down to eat.
But I am trapped in a brilliant story
about a desert storm in Castle Valley.

Silverware
clanks and scrapes
across porcelain plates.

The sink water and fan keep running.
The word “Bitch!” is flung through the air
beneath me, father is erupting.

Lips tighten. Fists curl.
I want to say
something.

No I can’t come down to eat
and be trapped in that storm
of words that strike like lightning.

I am tired of acting like we are okay.
He has problems. She has problems.
And I have problems with their problems.

I have been locking my door
since I was six and still can’t stop
their words from breaking in.

So I leave it open and listen
to our picture perfect peace
shatter like a forsaken dish.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wDXfPYiLL4

download track here
http://www.mediafire.com/?g0qbrjjb2092j3j

"that day"

"that day"

you flip to a fresh page

and describe that moment

with that newfound friend

and those fluttering feelings inside:

that day, the sky was in full-gloom

until the sun fumbled through

the clouds a few hours before

dipping into the dark of the earth

you were lost in that city

at 3 o’clock that morning

‘cause those sparks lit a flame

too stubborn to die with day

you felt her focus flicker

from your eyes to your lips

you spoke softly, leaned in

and peeked while you kissed

in that park on that rock

when those sprinklers went off

and that silken stream flowed

coolly beneath your feet

you skipped across an emerald sea

as fearless as two thrown river stones

and then surrendered your doubts

to a late summer’s night dream

you write about stars fading

into a brightening blue morning

and delicately tuck in that moment

like a child on the cusp of slumber.

so i missed...

so i missed the erykah badu concert in richmond
only to compete in the national poetry slam in st paul
so i missed the corinne bailey rae concert in richmond
only to compete in the national poetry slam in st paul

here are my dedications to them both:

erykah evolve.

tuberose in the sea.

done.

1. do not try to control them, no one can.
2. do not take over his or her responsibilities.
3. refuse to be a victim.
4. refuse to be an "enabler".
5. think more about yourself.
6. do not protect them from the consequences of his or her addiction; pain is the biggest gift.

ThatGreenGuy.

ThatGreenGuy.

His favorite
color is green.
By night he is a guard
at the Botanical Garden
and by day he shops at the Dollar Tree;
He recycles everything; it’s safe to say
that he knows what it means to save green
(his favorite color). He’s never traveled overseas,
but he likes to buy the Exotic Island Girl calendars
not for the girls but for the beaches and palm leaves, that are green
(still his favorite color). Every morning before he goes to sleep,
he walks up to the calendar, grabs a green sharpie
and places the tip in the top left corner of the date,
carefully marking an x in the spot
so that he’ll never forget
to treasure the day.
Holy Guacamole.

-R.Gibson

WALK ON BY

Diana Krall's beautiful cover of Dionne Warwick's song "Walk on By" (1964). Props to Burt Bacharach for writing lyrics SO heartfelt.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sxK8ghb9PU

But I cannot forget to mention the track that led me to all of this: the heavily hip-hop sampled version by Issac Hayes! The instrumental is sickkk!


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5tqAbrZeX0

Mos Def - Umi Says

"I ain't no perfect man. I'm trynna do the best that I can with what it is I have."



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsihHoyqwWY