"Peace," A Poetry Post

Go on and have
peace
about your
situation.

The piece of work
that we all
know
Beethoven for
was written
after his
finest hours
were
done.

He had to put his
ear against the
instrument to
make sense
of the sounds.

I bet he wondered
if we
would ever hear
the beauty
of the symphony
in his head.

I bet he cried
out in
frustration.

I bet he
cussed and
swore.

I bet he
felt
worthless.

Yet
even as a
deaf man,
he
created
music
that has
changed
the sound of
humanity
forever.

-T. D. James-Moss

"Color," A Poetry Post

My sister,
do you still
dream in color?

When we was kids,
you had all these
ideas about
what you wanted to be and do.

One time you
said you was gone
open up your own
beauty shop,
but you aint do much to
get yourself into
beauty school.

One time you said you was gone
get back into
dancin like you used to do,
but you dont play no
music.

Seem like you just doin
whateva it is minimum
you feel you got to
do.

Seem like you just
livin out grayness....

Look like your
shine done became a
muffled glow out here
in these streets.

We all gotta work and work,
my sister,
but God aint just
signed you over
outta the rainbow
like that.

You aint got no right to
die on your feet,
pretending to be breathing.

You is entitled
to your yellows.

You is entitled
to your reds.

You is entitled
to your color.

-T. D. James-Moss

"Things," A Poetry Post

Somewhere
in the back
of a trailer
down a dirt road
is a black girl
crying about
things.

Things she
doesn't
understand.

Things she
cannot
explain.

Things she is
too embarrassed
to express.

Things beyond
her years.

Somewhere she is there,
crying,
waiting for her grandmother,
or her real mother,
or her godmother,
or a foster mother or
some other's mother.

We think
she's
in the back room
wasting hours of her life
on Snapchat
on her cell phone,
but
in reality,
she is just looking at the screen.

It's just a
mask-in-hand that
hides her face.

And she is wondering
why nobody cares enough
to ask her
what she's thinking about.

-T. D. James-Moss

"We All Heard Right," A Poetry Post

This country is
a mess.

Nobody's winning.

I'm going to
make America
great again by
running out
all of the
Mexicans.

I'm going to
make America
great again by
keeping out
Muslim
immigrants.

I'm going to
make America
great again by
abandoning
decades-old
alliances.

I will require
payment for my
protection.

I'm going to
make America
great again by
short-paying our
international loans.

I'm going to
make America
great again by
deregulating
the common man's
workplace.

I'm going to
prove that
the abuse of a
rich man's privileges is
smart, not
predatory.

I'm going to
run the bastards--
all the poor people,
all the rich people,
all the locals,
all the foreigners,
all the churches,
all the generals,
all the judges,
all the longstanding politicians--
I'm going to
run the bastards
out.

Only I
know
enough about
abusing the
tax laws
to fix them.

Only I
am rich enough
to grab
whatever
my
hands
desire.

Only I
have the right
to cover up
my past sins
with smiles and
sheepish references to
back room talk and
old boys' locker room chats.

I'm the man you need
to make you great.

If you don't believe me,
you're an idiotic poll fixer,
an ineffective party leader,
a wound-up woman menstruating,
a victim silenced by religion,
a crooked, no good, corrupt politician,
an ugly girl crying wolf,
a retarded man without a memory,
a fat pig without self control,
a government ploy to derail my candidacy,
a biased media hack.

If you don't believe me,
you don't understand
greatness.

-T. D. James-Moss