Dreams - UF

It feels like I've entered an unknown place, full of moments plastered onto cement walls laid by the hands of old, moisturized by tears of new, raining on today's character as gloom consumes the visual this fragile body keeps beneath her eyelids...seeing what a dying dream embodies Lord, I no longer care to dream I no longer care to hear the loud cries of my failures or the crackling remnants of disbelief twisting my arm tighter and tighter, bullying hope, betting I'll give up. I no longer want to rest alongside the dumpster of narcoleptic fiends, searching for that first dream, that first scene that elevated their minds; my mind... got me all high, high into a place condoned by the heavens... A place of pleasance, where the Greatest pressed play...Debuting the greatness He'd planted within me before my life was placed on display for nine months...it was more than just a dream...but scenes, seen through His eyes, realigning mine to see me as He sees me. Lord, I no longer care to dream I want my dreams to breathe...to receive... The oxygen that will engage my diaphragm, Tightly grabbing hold of scenes and never letting go...never letting go... Breathe... Breathe...breathe until the motions create a space large enough to harness the revolutionary process of "life-ing" that unknown place...Until every vision is enriched, oxygen thick...where the sync becomes automatic, downloading into my Spirit the precepts of movement, moving meant towards purpose...His purpose, towards will...my will...to fulfill what drove me to the hills of a thousand cattle Lord, I no longer care to dream I want my dreams to breathe...

Gen Curses

It begin in my dreams...those things That have been caped onto the back of decay Through generational regurgitation of lifeless speech Rendering me, opposition before setting my eyes on earth A curse... And its identity wore no words Instead, it hooked up with passion and dressed itself in love Kisses and hugs, hugs and kisses from the misses, Missing what my great great great grand envisioned When she spoke the oath that tied her soul and priced her worth A curse... From her mouth, foundations of wisdom were woven, Word by act, like flowers no seeds; patching together hurt with hope Shaping a coat to lay over the cancer that was deposited into her creed ...deposited into her spirit, to eat a hole into her soul His devise was full of woes, uncontrolled without rehearse A curse... But she spoke, without repose as if no one would know That the letters breathed onto me were breached, Broken speech, passed down from her to her, to her then me So that my speech and my speech's speech would always feed into a stolen soul It breaks here... those things That has been caped onto the back of decay Through generational regurgitation of lifeless speech No dying before death, nor eating disbelief It breaks here, with life-speaking me

Sweet Feet

Ohhh my God, my feet hurt And they seem like they may be swollen - God, I hope not because that's more pain I mean, who likes pain? You know, these are my favorite pair of shoes. I discovered them while on a business trip at this sunny blue boutique downtown. And I remember entering this little boutique, with chimes alarming me, I'd open the door to accessory and before me lay thee...a pair of shoes, this pair to be precise. It had been anticipating my arrival; It lay alone atop a delicately carved, unfinished, uni-body zingana wood display, which framed the shoes' irresistible poise between a warm wooden aroma and a strikingly bold grain pattern.. There was no label or price tag, or perhaps the sight before me had left me impervious to my senses. I approached it with a combination of comfort and excitement no less than that of a bride as she walks down the aisle. As I leaned in, the heel of the right shoe bowed on one knee and declared, "you want to marry me." I do...I do...I do...I had to have these shoes. They seemed perfect. The quality of leather projected longevity. The heel was balanced yet sharp; it promised to support yet stimulate. . And who would've known that the sole was impressively reinforced with a rare substance that would provide ultimate comfort in the most uncomfortable of settings. This was my shoe. I proudly swiped my debit card, walked out, and tightly clutched my new interest without a hint of regret as the sound of the chimes and the aroma of the beautiful display faded away... Ohhh Jesus, my feet hurt And they feel like they're inflamed Lord, I hope not because that's more pain And I mean, who likes pain? These shoes were never tried...on, that day it changed. It really changed. I carefully put on these shoes, secured the strap, and before examining the fit; I took off in extreme bliss. I was happy, confident, joyous, and every other adjective that could measure what I thought to be perfection. And let me tell you, I wore these shoes with every concoction of attire! They made every outfit look outstanding. I appeared taller which, by default, improved my posture. I even found myself assigning titles like "gurllll these are one-of-a-kind" and "yes honey, they're exclusive" to the shoe only because of its perceived originality... Not merely because of its origin. Annndddd that's where I went wrong. I couldn't run in these shoes...skip in these shoes...shop in the shoes...preach in these shoes. Heck, I could barely fit these shoes! And my toes never hesitated in reminding me that this was a huge NO NO! See, this pair of shoes was designed for display...photo-ops...closet enhancers. The asthetic perfection belied the slow pain that now defines it. I'd always find it amusing how my friends un-doubtfully noticed them while searching through my closet. They even look good to you, right? Yeahhhhhh, but they hurt. Initially, they gave the impression of the "perfect fit". Provided great support, sturdiness, designed with a degree of excellence and looked amazing on my feet. And just like my other shoes, I thought as time progressed, a "breaking-in" would occur. You know...That moment where you and your shoe become one...where a level of comfort is established and everything gets better. That never happened. My feet began to hurt within the first month of wearing the shoes. I would find myself attempting to drive (as I normally do in most shoes) but the pain and pressure of trying to walk in a shoe originally designed for display carried pain...intense pain. The kind of pain that would lead you to the doctor.asking Him once again to mend a broken heart. I mean, a tender yet enlarged bunion. And this wasn't nearly half of it. I learned that the shoe should not have been on display, neither for sale. That particular shoe was manufactured improperly and deemed defective two months prior to me walking into that little boutique. God said, I mean the Designer said, it was a counterfeit version of what was scheduled to be released 7 weeks later. He said he attempted to reach out to the owner of the boutique to relay the message but discovered the store was no longer in existence. Surprisingly, it closed the day after I purchased these shoes. I was set up to see up. And now I stand up, stronger than I was before.wondering how I even managed to allow my haste to wear on me like paste, tasting all over again, the lust of my chocolate skin.

Journey

I walked into a room filled with white space and pupils Absent bodies, no minds, just minding my every move As my worn down taps connected to the tile flooring, A sound was created, personally annoying but familiar And they would wait... Wait to see this very sound of unbalance Balancing yet again, the stones that lay beneath me Was it entertainment or another walk of hope Minding mine with their mindless minds I don't know why and I couldn't stop to think about it Because the Spirit purchased my steps and took my watch Hmph, talk about time... And the legally existing me wanted to see the time, Carry the time...on my wrist, often I even tried to buy another dream-keeper But the face of it was never large enough So I gave up...rather slaved up The limitations this world paid towards Convincing me I should consider the pupils of those I'd never seen, staring at my side as I pass by Some would say I souled out and I'm proud of that Because I know when I'm not me, best happens Happens monumentally, in every next room I'm still walking...

The Stay

I gave you a piece of me, with little hesitation, only to satisfy my character's perception of a wait...subconsciously knowing you'd wait no time...I had to follow protocol tho, right? At least the 9-5 human believed so and who would want to jeopardize a tailored reputation? Hemmed up by the finest lectures and creased with legendary alumni. I left all of that there tho. All of that...mostly the fear behind his non-refundable reservation to vacate deformed and weighed down comfort...Not caring about any other occupants, simply the stay. Sim-ply-the-stay, the stay of frayed ends...yet an end frayed by the heat she felt when her comfort took a seat next to what was presented to be free, over and over again. Pushed over and over again, building pieces into parts, setting apart the differences in each person that lays there to stay...stays until it's sunny and blame dissipates...aware that it never will, so dreams just pray until reality visits one day...reproofing what reality had written in fine print that very first day.

The Morning After

Hilton's cozy duvet hugged me as laid on my side wondering how to begin an expression short of periods, full of commas, layered with question marks, yet topped with exclamations. This Sunday served as the morning after, the morning after I tasted my own dessert. For the first time, I became engulfed in an unbelievable mouth-watering delivery that stole my words and colored me red. My security placed a comma to mask my reaction, but my heart couldn't portray it straight.

Absent of my strength, the chef noticed the beat skipping freely on the sidewalk of my descending aorta, so in an effort to erase the uncommonly and stabilize pressure, I smiled timidly and muffled, It was impeccable. (I know that was unexpected, but he was unexpected and his darn good dessert was unexpected, and now these butterflies are expecting, expecting me to feed them. )

The morning after entered the past, leaving crumbs so that the present would find its way back if I slept with denial, giving him the part of me I protect not. Hoping to forget how his eyes reached for words that belong to me, delicately experiencing my energy...I'm weak, exclamation mark...around him. My letters stumble downward, as unfamiliarity expends my reservoir...so what I typically say, isn't so typical anymore, leading me back to the morning before...before I let go.

All So Familiar

Denial raped me, thinking I was a virgin to reality and the benefits panned out to be painless, painfully strangling my pride. And if I was asked where's my pride, I'd say I lost it at birth. Humble beginnings lusted over me, lustering my demeanor...and I'm her. Mazed to amaze how this class became an 8'oclock after midnight and transparency is still lost. Clarity became an option and the decision wasn't made, or was it? The answer lies in discovering how my sheets folded over tightly among the solar system... To be without any earthly idea, I became constrained to the bed I seemingly made for myself. For once, I was a heavenly body revolving about the sun, shining son, clothed in his own, among the stars...a withdrawn me connected so naturally, my heart spilled and I slipped on the dampened floor. He must've been here before, it couldn't be his first time. And as the neurons in my brain race to support the thought of searching for a reason, I open my eyes.

Bored in lecture

This ratchet blabber is related to the keenest slice of misunderstanding...
Wiping away every since that makes it since the time is so raping...

Not my guts, but my brains, ha brains, I don't give it. Wishing upon a focus, my star fell 59 seconds ahead of what's approaching my ears no mind trying to define and specify the not so understood function of this dude's lecture.

Toy Story

I can't believe they found me on aisle 5 of the toy section. As if there were parts and/or pieces to assemble...Like like, two double A batteries are vital to my operation. Like like, there's a reset button located inside my chest that you press whenever there's a malfunction. Like like, you can buy "little outfits" to dress me and then undress me based off of your emotional verdict. Like like, I sing lullabies at the push of a soft spot to stroke that little ego you pressed on your cheek two weeks ago when you grew a few feet yo. Like like, I'm tattooed with a 10-digit SKU and the only breathe I experience is from you. Like like, you can position me for your sake, wonder away and come back for a double take. Make no mistake I'm no plastic fake, neither am I some game you purchase to play. My words, they come simple and straight so your mind won't have room to parlay. Like Like, the seriousness shown in my face when this shell speaks and my mouth doesn't move. Like like, the demand that grabs attention when randoms walk by just to listen. Like like, the rules I set about the one rule - NO REGRETS. Like like, the way I take the richest soil from my soul to make sure your dreams are never malnourished. Like like, how I reach out to physically touch the unattainable concerning you, only because I learn best with my hands. I say, I'm NO game my "friend", so don't look for any parts or pieces. Respect me as a woman and it'll sign the leases. It's like like that!

finished Bipolar

Bipolar

Today I woke up to a melodic tone escaping my phone, ready to address the usual. Usually lacking the set to reset my mind, needing folded hands giving reverence, Lord I pray for consistency. Amen! They stepped on matted letters outside of my front door to welcome what's next as I smile to confuse what looks scrambled. This must have been an up because I pulled up to a mouth filled with rewrapped plans, lined with embrace, and glossed with a touch of red greet. I knew this wasn't new and my mind knew that this beating shell shape had reached the sell by due date... It was spoil. Nevertheless, the fact that failure. had relocated further away from success somehow convinced me to expect a good turnout. And what turned out to be a turnout led to another let down. No first, just down and the commentators said he carried the ball well. This was no Saturday night game or was it? I question this and my answers become scrambled once again, wiping away those greetings that were intended for waves. Hello to another day or days polar sway...sometimes short of the option to choose between North and South...Either way, I'm never prepared. I hate this bipolar piercing stare given when I walk into the courtroom of your conscious blare. And I can hear it...you think I'm crazy, don't you? Now before the jury examines this bipolar relationship do me a favor and step away from my naturally lined lips. BC this did all start with just a kiss.

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What’s your next line - Facebook

What’s your next line - Facebook



Dominique C writes: Racing against a shoeless thought

Echo E writes: I'm suddenly reminded of battles fought

Travis R writes: Lost half, learned most: all thanks to the Host?

Dominique C writes: Or not? He ponders beneath the web, wide-eyed to tell a direct recollect bag of imaginations; many afloat, neither heads or tails, shot down by truth or tortured with nails; posting a chance to evaluate the sanity it entails...just one thought, bare foot thought...iron rail wrought by the impersonators that dream his last thought, wondering what bought the sells he foretell in just a simple thought he thinks one kilometer away...

J Goody writes: distant is the soul of the journeyman, perhaps? what lies beneath the wrap, doesn’t make sense...but it doesn't have to...

Dominique C writes: Because you digress in the process of clicking through his success; supporting the systems that lock up the floating words that were once thoughts, through dumbbells, mustering imaginations and soon dreams. Are things really what they seem or did his thoughts sprint from his dreams?

A conversation like this

I don't think I've experience a conversation like this. A conversation where words are silenced by the lack of understanding seen through my eyes. It was almost as if I was blinded by the reality of existing imperfections. Perfecting inscribed "pre-reqs" I'd set before nodding to future regret. But my haste wore on me like paste and simmered among what may be that "maybe" explaining why the obvious appeared so shady. Now, I'm not saying I didn't "see" what she saw when y'all spoke but my heart skips a beat when our eyes meet and the ability to see you physically passes through me, causing my spirit to speak...Speak to your soul. Yes, talk to your soul. That's the very second things begin to unfold...

My eyes opened to a place only you could feel, your HEART. It was the beat behind the seat of sentiments my soul accelerated when you said hello to me. And I promise I'd never had a conversation like this. A conversation where your soul joins with my soul and speaks in sync with that skipped beat I shared with you earlier in this piece. A conversation that speaks from the greatest part of you...your soul. A conversation where secrets become bedtime stories to our worries and we never suffer insomnia. A conversation where the nerves in our feet redirect sleep and walk all over defeat just to keep this spiritual connectivity. A conversation that feeds into my poetry, poetically satisfying the stomachs of those who too have talk to souls.

Untitled

I so don't deserve this
When I didn't know, that was one issue
And when I found out it became a bigger one
The very thing that people can touch, feel, and see somehow gained control of me and even though I was sorry I fail to genuinely experience remorse BC I selfishly knew I would say I'm sorry and move on. Sadly enough I can even admit that as strong as I thought I was I wasn't confident that I would be able to turn away just yet. Especially if I'd be put in that exact situation tomorrow. My skin loved it, every bit of it.

Nevertheless I so didn't deserve this.

What hurts even more is that the training I'd received when faced with trying times were suddenly excreted from my skin and what I knew within was suppressed by the excitement.

Music Producer - BCF

Uniquely formulated to share communication with sound. Alphabetizing a plethora of vibrations magnified at the rebound of what my ears could filter. No talent could express competitively how your gift could shift the things and thoughts that were strong in stance while beating against the hesitation formed in my hand. Who communicates with sound, understanding the very language of music? Exchanging messages between what speaks within without words to move it...That's a connection that's inevitable and it flows down into your fingers. Illustrating the very picture your mind created just a day ago...not to know that yesterday was 3 days ahead of what you thought the day before. A gift.

Untitled

Sitting, searching for words to express exactly how i feel on top of this hill. I shouldn't have let you carry me here...your arms convinced me right after you smiled at my smaller me. How did you manage to alter every not into whats hot, warming those cold reservations my inexperience fostered. Your credentials we weren't accredited in another state, and my residence was fairly new to this blue old school. Beginning at number one, started the beginning

Chase

Her neurological phase reached the end of its maze and exited all reason. Extending left for emotion, while pregaming before the season. Her past had become a goodwill's property, with hopes to aid another lost human in lustful poverty. Ok, maybe it was love...hmph. The donations were merely a result of growth and healing, sealed with a kiss from this new lil feeling. And she had a feeling that this feeling felt the inevitable...reaching forever for it to always be there.
I'd never seen her dress this way, expressing exactly whats behind her gay, without giving honor to the man's delay ...pride. Shocked, to say the least, no leasing authenticity out of respect for tradition bc it wasn't crisp enough to invalidate the wrinkle -free reality that she was thee...thee face behind the chase

And when time dressed this man, those fine garments no longer fit the same.What was customary become necessary and what was necessary became habitual. Breaking every southern family's ritual just to show his significance. Uncomfortably "cutting to the chase", with only a slice of pursuant array (clothing)

Bipolar

Bipolar

Today I woke up to a melodic tone escaping my phone, ready to address the usual. Usually lacking the set to reset my mind needing folded hands and reverence, I pray for consistency. Amened to welcome what's next I smile to confuse what looks scrambled.

Love Bore

The day's drowsiness touched the motive lying next to possibility and halted everything but I was indifferent. There was no felt difference in the distance so the unwanted patience against time led to the comfortable hostage I introduced when I gave up. And I guess the very moment I closed the door, my cup spilled over into the hands I'd disposed of at the judges table. There was no need to compete, no qualified beings or delegates, just large. And I promise it didn't get further than that. Until boredom dilated my pupils and the light was a pain...feathering the soles of my feet, I laughed into something that was never intended for keeps. But I remembered the shades, and I needed them to see. Those overexposed "be"s played the feces out of me and planted an irreversible addition to an earlier rendition chartered by one thought. And every time I'm tortured by remembrance, I face what I never fought...

What’s Clear!!!!

What’s Clear!!!!

I could sit here and play my sax or gracefully plie; And without a delay, you’d realize I should stick to what’s spoken; Given without choice, accepting what was chosen. It’s simply a spill, filled with thoughts pouring into words that rationalize; So lend your ATTENTION and listen, I won’t paralyze.

See it’s this thing they call darkness, designed and redefined to cloud what should have remained clear. It has blinded our generation, got ‘em thinking and seeing things different from how they appear. I’m standing here and what you see is that I’m black, vividly expressed in a darker shade; governmentally displayed as African American. I’m a woman, but not just any ol’ woman, I’m a black woman; Colored and resolute with an ancestral curvaceous figure, THICKER than Joe’s Truest Religion and did I mention, I’m known to be strong? When I talk in this tone, using this dialect to be politically correct, I become what is not clear…An Educated Black Woman.

Let me pause and unfog what should have been clarity…Treated like a charity, where usage and display seem much of a parody. I keep hearing my people refer to themselves as coins…You know, pennies, nickels, and dimes? As if the woman is some expenditure, metaphorically speaking in their rhymes… What’s clear? I’m a dime, NO a roll of dimes…No a PARADIGM to that little girl that lives behind the picture painted by what’s fed to her ears, her mind. Speaking into existence her limitations and so she defines…herself. Whether she be lead or mislead, understood or misread, it all dates back to what she was fed, back then or now, her future’s been said. Said and placed into the hands that carried us over here in the first place. Standing astir of what looks like her own, far from what should’ve been cleared…by people like you and me whose glasses were whipped by ancestry. So again, I ask what’s clear?

What’s clear is that Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, and Zora Neale Hurston did it! What’s clear is that clear is clear. Without blemish, free from darkness. Every spec I did not expect, God windexed; And when I couldn’t see past adversity, He drove for me. What’s clear, is standing right here and those things that appear to be unclear, not clearly understood, I’ve achieved because I believed…NOW, IS THAT CLEAR?

Subsequently

Subsequently

Slow jogging on the treadmill has my heart pounding
Sweating processed Aquafina
Complimented with nothing better than a slight dislocation of my Vickies

SUB-SEQUENT-LY

A toned body, a bigger confidence and great magnitudes of personal satisfaction
Only initiated by self because self speaks works, maybe lies or truths, meaningful or meaningless
Ultimately resembling the artistry of your true “SELF” indeed
_______________________________

Blabbing at the mouth, co-signing to conversations that were already dimensionalized by Jane Doe and Billy Ray.
In other words, NOYB
But why ramble in a gamble when you have no money and the casino ain’t ever seen yo…yo...

SUB-SEQUENT-LY

Limited friendships, refrained information, and indecent stares.
Did I mention, hurt feelings and missed knowledge.
Good, watch leads to an unpredictable demeanor.
_______________________________

Game-spitting, dread infested, low waves fade approaching me, you, and your cousin
Grinding and stroking trees, branches, and leaves if possible
Thinking his un-intellect collec-tively protects
That heavily used cardboard and playmates.
Or Easy-goers, conveniently named dimes divided by one night equals nothing but a waste of time
Get your game up!



SUB-SEQUENT-LY

A “NEXT”, MTV named it appropriately
A ballot checked “NO” to your immaturity and clearly observed insecurities
A sudden portrait displaying your search for attention and lack of love, for yourself that is…
REAL women will stop the clock on your “I don’t know how to love” asssssking for another chance that you really never had
_______________________________

Hard-working, heavily stocked in the Lord, wise young lady
Broken-hearted, all-giving, a great display of altruism
Sadden by the sleep of the sun because she goes home to nothing but a 1300 square feet apartment
Enriched with black granite countertops to watch another episode of the “HILLS”
Lives life according to the best “to-do” manual, Basic Instructions Before Leaving The Earth but falls short in some instances
Strong tho…

SUB-SEQUENT-LY

With God and his word first, all your needs and desires
A mate, that unconsciously makes those old loves seem like time-invested, not wasted, for a bigger payout…a blessing!
Man and Woman in Matrimony are seen as one by the Almighty. So enjoy boo!
_______________________________

Through the loud mouths, selfish boyfriends, and intense workouts
Purposes are always endowed beforehand, revealed or not
Your response discovers your outcome and sometimes your strength
Anyone or anything that cosigns to your demise or endangers your salvation, LET GO!!
Nowadays, good looks can be bought so don’t cash in on that alone.
Pray!

Because Sub-sequently…

~Dominique C. Cooper