Branded Innocence: Their Living Poetry

Hold her as if unafraid

and bring your hands

unobstructed into sight.

Threads of cascading Auburn

upon freckled skin

Dare to touch, Dare to delight

paralyzed to give in

A fit perfected

sculpted by Highest hands,

she rests willingly.

Overwrought slender digits

find supple haven seeding

Passion flaring, Ardor churning

heart and soul, yearning

Under glistening blanket
encapsulated by whistling light
slipping into shadow.
Through piercing Mahogany
and the glister of rime,
he quivers electrified
as touching desires stir hurriedly

Consummate proportions
skin silken smooth
dominion over the curves.
Exchanging buoyant force
upon dewy fixations crowned
Heavy breathing, Barely breathing
An idolatry set ablaze

Lines of Lust
inhaled depravity
Take my breath away.
This beauteous illusion
upon broken mantles poised,
Don't speak it, no utterance...

I'm in love with you!

© 2015 DNKG Branded Innocence

Why the caged bird sings: A personal poetry tribute to Dr. Maya Angelou

In a world torn between color,

lived and learned between the

black and white hues of 

Everyday. 

a Mother, a Trailblazer, a Poetess
born from the strife,

Who gave rise from the ashes.

Who gave birth from a watery grave.

Who gave voice to the other caged birds.

In a world still torn between color,

lived and learned between the

sophisticated hues of grays; 
between religion, politics, and social strata.

Everyday

a caged bird sings

a mighty song it sings of its own.

A song inspired by the original bird

who feared not; who sang and sung 

Until its lungs no longer could,

Until its breath, panting, matched its heart,

Until its heart sung to its content,
Until its light was borrowed by the Great Equalizer.

And what have we birds known of

atrocities of Time? 
So many, too young,
to know the Power of her rhyme. 

To what atrocities have we accounted for
of broken bodies

of lost loves

of fragmented hearts
of saddened homes.

Would we brave the burn of the tyrant, 
so courageously stare down the eyes 
that abhor without knowing why?

Would we, so valiantly? 
Just to sing our song,
a song of Release?

That caged bird lived her love,
so all others would know what living a life of love meant. 

That caged bird loved when love seemingly wasn't an option, 

 so all others would know love could heal all wounds.

That caged bird healed through the prose of her life, 
so all others would know how. 

Why does the caged bird sing? 
She sang for her. 
She sang for you. 
She sang for me. 
She sang for love. 
She sang for the tough life.
She sang for sanity in an insane world. 
She sang for colors like her.
She sang when being human wasn't humane.
She sang for freedom from oppression. 
From enslavement. 
For us, as Humankind.

She sang to survive. 

She sang to feel alive. 
She sang because it's the one thing they couldn't break. 
She sang because it's the only thing they couldn't take. 
She sang because her song had to be sung.

I understand why the caged bird sings
in my heart and in my soul
she sings and sings and sings
for that is what a caged bird must do
to breathe, to live, or to die for its
songs

I know why the caged bird sings.

DNKG  Why the caged bird sings: A personal poetry tribute to Dr. Maya Angelou ©

Mind Games: Getting in the way of the process

At my laptop, I watch the cursor blink. I sense its mockery as I search in vain for something that will stir the heart. It seems to already hold the secret prose to which hasn’t even been created. It stares at me from that blank page, reading me better than any friend I have ever had. It sees me writhe in pain as I wait for that light bulb moment to satisfy me, for that flicker of wisdom to spill out on to the page with unbridled fury. It sees my desperation to keep that internal fire from being extinguished.

I punch the letters on a laptop and a code of black and white are set into motion. Perhaps my indiscriminate tapping will make magic, I jest to myself. A cacophony of keyboard clicks resonates off the walls, growing louder and louder. Push, go, propel forward so that the core is constantly churning. I feel it, like a symphony coming to its coda after its final aria. PAUSE.

I glance down to reveal the masterpiece: a blank page of spaces.

And yet I sat in silence, in a wildfire that was all consuming. I find myself at ease with the profound realization that my cursor has gifted me. I embrace the moment where there is nothing. When I am frozen. A time of ease and no worries. A time without retort or argument. A time without suspicion or judgment. A period of not knowing where I am headed, where that path might take me, or even if it that path was “right” or "wrong." It felt right, “right now.” 

There is something beautiful about a white canvas with a story yet to be told.

DNKG
 © Mind Games: 2014

Threading a Life: A Woman's lens

Threading a Life

            The inner workings of a woman’s heart are complex. It is constantly evaluating, analyzing, and loving among the other innumerable tasks a woman places upon this muscle—a flexor of life force that never ceases to amaze. If one were able to delve down deep into this spiritual stronghold, one would find a beginning that is muted and surrounded by darkness. It is in this humble moment where I find myself reflecting on the archaic sagacity of Woman.

            A woman is like the beautiful lotus blossom that sits atop a glistening pond sharing its radiance, its glory, and gift with others. Few are aware of its dark and arduous beginnings and far less are aware of the fortitude needed to push through to survive a turbulent stage of awakening. Even more astonishing is the wisdom of each petal—unique in how and when it opens, unveiling its brilliance only when it feels ready.

            Each woman is an artist who weaves the tapestry of a lifetime guided by heart and nurtured by soul. The Jewish woman has brought herself through a bitter dawn, evolved into a pillar of strength for her community, and weaved her legacy in the Textile of Time. We can see the Jewish Woman’s tapestry come to life when we pause, breathe and reflect.

           The earliest woven threads come from Sarah, our first matriarch. Her unwavering belief in prayer, sage-like wisdom, and vision of change demonstrates that faith and patience are powerful tools in times of uncertainty. The complexity of our tapestry continues with Rachel, whose untimely death symbolizes the first selfless act of unconditional love a mother willingly gives for her children. The weaving shifts phenomenally with the entrance of the Rebitzen, Malkah of Belz. Her spiritual wisdom and courageous work as a prophetess became the steppingstones for modern women to turn quelled silence into passionate oration. And the threads continue through the loom, in current day Israel, with the twenty-five year struggle for religious pluralism with the “Women of the Wall.”

One question remains: how will you weave your threads into our collective Jewish tapestry?

DNKG. Threading a Life -Adapted from my article published in the Kehillah Magazine - May edition 2014 ©