“With Angels; An Ode to Michael Joseph Jackson”
Written By Khalilah-Yasmin ©
I may have never held your hand, or felt your embrace,
But you touched my soul, my mind and every empty space.
I may have never heard you say or call out my name,
But you spoke to me often, regardless of your fame.
I may have never let you- look into my eyes,
Yet I saw myself in yours, no matter your disguise.
You may have never danced with me, but since I was born I followed your feet,
Wearing your glove, hoping you’d visit me in my sleep.
You may have never saw me, but I was always watching you,
as you gave yourself selflessly, awakening closed minds and dreams come true.
You may have never been there when I was a child and your voice made me cry,
you had power to move any age, any color, and unite us under ONE SKY.
I will never know your struggle, your life, or your pain,
but you are our Brother, and we are the same.
I will never hold your hand, I never got the chance,
You will never hug me, or give me that dance.
I asked God for a favor, he said he’d hand deliver my poem,
He assured me you Moonwalked with Angels and you were not alone.
R.I.P. MICHAEL
“Veronica” © Khalilah Yasmin
I don’t want to but,
she says that I must,
if I come near you,
my windows she promised to bust.
Her words; I trust,
knowing she is sincere,
I kiss you like an addict
as you lay here.
And I am in need
I fiend for my fix,
as she stands outside my mansion
hand bouncing a brick.
I put up with her shit,
as we inhale the same enamored air,
ignoring her presence
as if we don’t care.
But we do-we are lost
in another borrowed moment,
She’s screaming our names
as I tell you, “you own it”.
Your kisses were slow,
and now like rain they pour,
I pull your frame towards me,
you beg me for more.
“She will kill me
and make you watch me die”,
We laugh at reality,
your smile grazing my thigh.
You lay in my bosom,
as we share all our dreams,
I clap off my lights
as she shrieks and she screams
You lean in to kiss me,
and give me my fix,
Silence replaced with broken glass,
as in comes her Brick….
“Conscious”
©Khalilah Yasmin
I’m a slave to my subconscious thought;
of which I have no control-
I traded a broken heart temporarily for a piece of my soul.
I’m a master of my mind;
or is this too an illusion-
as my heart eludes my mind, enticed with confusion..
Chaos and Illusions; as reality seems distant,
Perception stole my eyes when I took Pandora’s box and kissed it.
I’m being pulled into oblivious transition,
My mind, becoming more powerful than conscious knowledge
which now seems encrypted.
Not Wicked, yet forcing my hand,
my suppressed psyche like a Phoenix rising
with it’s own plan.
The Desire in me has it’s own brain,
makes me follow through and ties me to the blame.
I’m possessed by a force that makes me say “YES”,
to inhibitions, journeys and all of Life’s tests.
I’ve become this force, a puppet; to my subconscious mind…
Live from it’s lair,
Living every fantasy, and every dream,
without choice because I ONCE lived the ‘Nightmare’.
The Nightmare of “IF”, and “I wish I had”,
the DEATH of myself
The BIRTH of my GLAD.
Am I choosing or have I adapted by experiences and time loss,
Am I a slave or have I submissively let my alter ego be my Boss?
I’m a slave to my subconscious thought;
of which I have no control,
I traded my broken heart permanently for a piece of my soul.