Category Archives: Poems

Poem Written After Watching an Episode of Goliath

California license plate on a yellow bug. “Baby, I got your money,” she says, misremembering the codename. “The name is Fernando Vasquez,” he says. A lawyer with a bloody nose and a poor disposition slides out of the trunk of a red 2018 Jeep Compass. Nothing to see here. Dead metaphors and dysfunction. More bullshitContinue reading “Poem Written After Watching an Episode of Goliath”

Tradition for What?

Too fast to wear a crown.Uneasy. Heavy is the head. STILL. Raised on a different frequency,moving skillfully with sharks, like Miles Davis swimming in sound. SOUND is a temple. The gamble crawls on skin, and I change lanes. Stuck in this blues, living with designed purpose. God’swill on flesh. Them levels be dangerous. Bones tellContinue reading “Tradition for What?”

Said the Monk to His Earbuds

Beats by Dre hurl gritty street anthems. Nipsey Hussle. Jim Jones. Jeezy. K-Dot. Motivation is a strange addiction. Speed and altitude are objectives, pushing farther into concrete oblivion, keeping the circuit board CLEAN, like the only way to live is by BOLD declarations and aggressionand pain and suffering and more PAIN. Climb them hillstill lungsContinue reading “Said the Monk to His Earbuds”

Enter: We Were Supposed to Be Quiet?

Good morning! First and foremost, thanks for continuing to read the poems of Mailbox Weekly! I will continue to add new content at least once a week. You may receive two poems in a week, depending on my ability to chase and capture that elusive Muse! You will also receive updates on my latest publicationsContinue reading “Enter: We Were Supposed to Be Quiet?”

Long Way Home

City streets snake and swerve toward ordinary oblivion. Not worried about the hate and the hostile stares. Or the pissed off old man in a dark pickup truck, trying to make a quick exit on Butts Station Road. Red faced and angry. I laugh. This is an ode to balancing life on an eyelash. ToContinue reading “Long Way Home”

A Hustle Beyond the Stars and Stripes

Beyond traffic. Beyond cracked lives. Beyondbluesy attitudes, polluted countries, and silly white genocides. Bones don’t move for plastic ideals, shifty rhetoric, and piggish ways to prove American vomit is a gold-plated crutch. Sunlight breathes new days. Moonlight counts dollar bills while the masses stumble for food, shelter, living wages. Tap-dancefor a machine? Why? Stick outContinue reading “A Hustle Beyond the Stars and Stripes”

Heavy is the Head Space

8 miles down a black road, hoping to smash before the crash.Hoping to bubble and ball before the sun comesup. Cool breeze gives me dap. Early morning deer escapeinto the last exhalationsof night. No one knows male head- space, like loose gravel and Angry Noise. Crisp air high steps for a few more hours, takingContinue reading “Heavy is the Head Space”

Never Attach Breaths to Conformity

Hang a left on Volvo Parkway. This Chesapeakething got blues in the veins,swag in the pockets. We craft vibes, weaving in andout of traffic patterns. GoBIG or go home. The route ispaved with good intentions,bones, and scattered goals. Don’t let your flesh touch the floor, they say. Keep your headon a swivel, document where theContinue reading “Never Attach Breaths to Conformity”