Tanka Poem - Locoemotion

Into the Lake(True Story)

Pots filled with raindrops, the roof

leaked a lot, things really started to 

pour in, but regardless to what was

we didn't have the means to leave

Asthma showed its face, invading 

my lungs, holding up my air space, 

yet my good grace did what she

could to save me

She held me close, but the pain just

wouldn't let go, every time a breath 

got shorter I faded farther away, like 

I was off to my comportment in space

Voice flat as a tear on a line completing

its last free fall, I'd lay in her motherly

carriage almost down to my last

consummate

Wheezing, chest heaving and all,

I didn't die th...

Inkings of Me(III)

Who am I without a voice?

Never will I be him, him who seems

hoarse arguing back and forth of his

words being nonsense cause they can’t 

march to his step.

For I like to lead by example and if

no one can keep up then I’m fine

with just being the lone man left.

There will be no one to cloud my

forward vision, or Trump my mission

to becoming a true greater good.

I am a man that sleeps awake,

flirting with insomnia because she

likes me to, but to no concern, I am

good.

She will let me know when I can rest,

assured that I’ve been heard even

if they don’t seem to listen.

She isn’t hard of hearing my spirit's

retention, my immense he...

Inkings of Me(II)

Hmm, I was once told that I wouldn’t 

be able to prevail because I think

too slow, but guess what; they were so

short of my soul.

See, they didn’t know I belonged to

the stars and that to my disposal

there was my universe in its whole.

Instilled with the truth of, ‘I can do all

things through him’, I pitied them as

they didn’t know the joy that I knew.

They didn’t know the flight I ensued,

often leaving my gravitational footing 

to travel days past the moon so that I,

myself, and me were always in tune. 

I don’t keep mind to the chaotic cues,

as I am an art that doesn’t need to

be beautified through outside love.

But, to be clear it is taken when given,

and then in return you’d get the same

respects with plenty hugs.

For my ambition is like a dru...

A Son of Jupiter (Higher Mind)

As a man, I’d rather use my own 

dime to scratch my tickets,

better yet I’d rather just scratch the

itch of making it the harder way

I’m digging the nails from each 

picket counting my progress in inches,

feeling the sweat course down the 

lines on my hard chested domain

For there is no rhyme, but fairly all

reason Ioving me beyond my means,

seeking to reach the outer limits of my

inspiring mind if it follows me to rest

And may I be born again with the same

mindset of achieving it with esteem,

as there are no limits to a wise King 

prompt to stay pinnacle on his quest

—JG

Neptune

Most nights I couldn’t find peace,

I wondered if it was the PTSD, or if 

this Neptune had just lost his dream.

Was it stuck in the cosmos unable

to reach the confines of a mind

too crowded of dismay and grief?

I almost believed, but my soul 

only deepened to keep me whole

just as the shadow beside me.

Just as my soldiers in arm’s reach,

camouflaged, but never hiding 

from chaos, or presumed defeat.

Like Jupiter once told me, “Keep your

head from your feet, and your head

above your heart, just be.”

Today it is received, not to mention

poetry increasing my spirituality

— a reverie to my muse.

How pleasant is she for keeping me 

so heavenly attuned, my celestial

ooh, I can’t see you but I do feel...

Mí Ethereal Ubiety

I am a holder of your mystery 

like Olokun, 

a diver into your emotional

conglomerates like a Pisces. 

Do tell me your Zodiac ID.

For I am respectful, and gentle,

a deep connection to your 

mental and physical utters,

bold like my ancestral mother,

gold that won’t always luster.

I am a hard lover, like sacrificing

my sights for the stars to still 

remain vital where ever you are.

And no I’m not perfect, as I may be as

maimed as the moon, forever scared.

You are close but come closer;

my skin needs to feel your

celestial breath fall on me, 

while I speak on in hopes that you 

...

Tattered Fruit (Free Style)

Tattered fruit,

black and blue,

abused,

rediculed

Tatter the fruit;

shame on you

for the same monsoon,

you’ve been a fool

You’ve been a bull,

un-beneficial,

pitiful,

and unequivocal,

to what she needs,

what she dreams,

you’re just a failure to see,

and an absence to lead.

Let her find her King

—JG

Weather or Not

My mind is flacking,

thoughts heavy on my shoulder.

The weight is bearing,

and my posture is leaning over.

I'm bent on the meaning of this,

teetering trying to stay straight.

I haven't been right since you left, 

and you weren't wrong not to stay.

You deserved better, not my cloud

hanging over your pleasant weather.

Not my angst that came with it, 

taking the flight from your feather.

—JG

Menace to Society

Meet the eyes of a monster,

chained,

sponsored by the state

meant to be painted pretty.

Sitting colored like the sun,

days soon to be numbered

like his new ensemble,

guilty before proven innocent.

Meet the eyes of a monster,

unashamed, who pays homage

to being dishonest

because the devil is his truth.

Sitting colored like embers,

a blazing fire beneath the cold stare

with malice against the cleared air,

guilty of demeaning you too.

—JG

Faded Bouquet

Screams with no voice,

mousey,

hiding out inside of a dark space.

Skittish with no comfort,

kittenish, pupils wide

pulling her necklace.

Meanwhile he’s still reckless,

a bandit, coon eyed,

not welcomed in their place.

Flourishing with no grace,

withering, a faded bouquet

without a vow to replicate.

—JG