My tears are no ordinary waters.
It was here, my gut rose to take its place.Its gonna be alright.
My life, is gonna be alright.Have a small bite,
These rainy cycles of loving me.All because I indulged in dark cherry, brownies …
Wait never mind the calories…
Got down in the bottom of skillet,
feeling good…
She was not just a pretty orange to peel.Her vitamin c, drove back the mucus of icicles.
Hacking deeply like rusty faucets,
sputtering brown,
then yellow ,almost pasty clear.
She would not quit, come too far in the snow.
Open the oceans wide and you’ll find me.
In the arms of hope,
I’m finding my way to life….
Black Waters Spice,
You do something nice,
A comfy currant with cinnamons and cayenne.
Inside my Low-days,
Fishy-grey thoughts.
I do blame,
wash away with Lavender & Sage.
My black waters spice
I found my happy, smells good too…
She picked and scratched her edges.Her uterus burst forth in hunger.
By default she gravitated toward evil and worshipped,
in meal,in song,in suffering.
Trying to hold crazy together.
Her crooked places made her stumbled in
Amen,Amen Amen.
Her Halleluiah, swallowed vigorously the evil she had married in her head,
sinner and saint.
Amen.Amen.Amen
She would be driven out in bullet holes,HIV,and over grown-fur coats.
Trying to hold crazy together.
Amen.Amen.Amen
Run.Run.
Run with your Amen
Trying to hold crazy together…
I write to keep my rhythm and string.Sometimes Its all I have, while life abandon’s me.Centering all my ticks and tocks.Cultivating these itchy thoughts. A healthy word a day keep the demons at bay. Regenerating word-cells ; if it were not for writing I would be alone.
Poet:Krissy Mosley
This time when I grow up.I do it right.With no hashtags,scratches toward the back.When I grow up,I’ll see the moon souls’.When I grow up in this world,I’ll start over at hundred and four. Smile at little more.Cry a little harder.Scream a little louder,venturing in and out of sleep.
Poet:Krissy Mosley
While the shoes are gathered together
I think of Philly,
no feet walking, just shoes
of where we could go
aligned with blue-black night
I think of London’s skyline
I think of my people
Old man Jack
frozen in the snow
Of “Maya Angelou”
“All God’s children have shoes”
I think of El Paso
and I’ll put on shoes
Poet:Krissy Mosley
Walking this path to share a common suffering,
that only the living know.
My feet found the puddles and I did not dance.
My eyes saw the rivers that I had not cross,
and no one can measure the beauty in letting go.
In step and stride, in the swampy holes ,
Out numbered by the trees.
They teach me to stand.
Without the arms that use to hold me
Stand,
Without a signal nor light
stay here
on this path,that you find,
right.
-Krissy Mosley
I been waiting for Nigerian thunder,
moving against cast-iron trees
cleansing my skin with maple sap
lost in my native tongue tapping my hands
towards the land
my song,my fight
I’m waiting on me…
Krissy Mosley2014 all rights reserved
I go to the water
there I will find my ancestors
in worship and spirit,
becoming one breath.
I go to the water there I will find
My ancestors of rhythm and sleep
Emerging in water where deals are made of bone and fabric
The future me lies here in the water
I go to the water,
there I will find my ancestors.
Poet: Krissy Mosley all rights reserved 2014
Krissy Mosley Ministries 