Just How (Writing as Black Angel) Excerpt from “Burdens”

Photo taken from the WEB

JUST HOW

How am I supposed to reach for the sky
When I know a storm lurks in the distance?

How do I entrust my faith in a God
When uncertainty always overpowers me?

How am I supposed to French kiss with life
When the thrill of adultery has vanished?

How do I embody a father’s dream
When doubt sinks me like the Titanic?

How am I supposed to appreciate fireworks
When I am blind to color?

How do I trust in a desert visual
When I know that mirages exist?

How am I supposed to believe in love
When it hurts so unbearably to trust?

How do I reach out to a sick mother
When forgiveness escapes me?

© 2014 by Charles banks, Jr.
Writing as Black Angel

Excerpt from “Burdens.”
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry

Two Days Left…

Happy Sunday, all! There’s only two days left to get a signed copy of Concrete Promises, my romantic chapbook of poetry at the holiday price of $5.00! Head on over to eBay or send payments via Paypal to spiltinkpoetry@hotmail.com!!!  http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=121244318324

– Charles Banks, Jr.

Here’s an excerpt from Concrete Promises:

HER VOICE, THE GENTLE SPRING RAIN

Her voice is the gentle spring rain,
Brushes of wind against the pure white sails
On the sailboat I made with my own bare hands.

Her voice is the ocean’s serene waves
Masturbating each grain of my anxiety;
Strokes of heavenly bliss as the illicit
Moans of pleasure escape the depths of pain.

Her voice is a timid lover’s sweaty palm,
A warm embrace I feel against
My cheek whenever I blush with doubt.

Her voice is the gentle spring rain,
Tears upon the window pane as
I stare below at the silhouette of a goddess
Departing into the midnight’s obscured lights.

Her voice is like sounds of 6:00 AM,
Love birds chirping in a nearby tree,
Tea kettles whistling on the stove,
A tender lover’s good morning salutation.

© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.
Writing as Curiosity

Excerpt from Concrete Promises
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry

Bittersweet Blizzard (Writing as Black Angel)

Photo taken from the WEB

 

Bittersweet Blizzard

 

Such chaotic intrusions—

 

Loud voices

Antagonize me

With the intent to dispirit.

 

An abrupt suspension—

 

Hushed voices

Soothe me

With a massage of comfort.

 

© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Black Angel

Concrete Promises: $5.00 Now through the New Year!

Concrete Promises, the first installment in the Spilt Ink Poetry Collection, is on sale for a discounted $5.00 per book price now until January 1, 2014! You can purchase the e-book version over on Lulu.com or search “Concrete Promises” on eBay.com. You can also pay through Paypal.com for signed printed copies. Just send payments to spiltinkpoetry@hotmail.com and leave your mailing address! Also, if you purchase two copies at $5.00, one comes free! Shipping is free… of course!

Concrete Promises (eBook) on Lulu.com: http://www.lulu.com/shop/charles-banks-jr/concrete-promises/ebook/product-21174514.html

Concrete Promises on eBay.com: http://www.ebay.com/itm/Concrete-Promises-Writing-as-Curiosity-/121191452841?pt=US_Fiction_Books&hash=item1c3792d0a9

Concrete Promises: By Charles Banks, Jr. (Writing as Curiosity). Published by Spilt Ink Poetry; July, 2013.

Head Above Water (Writing as Curiosity)

     Photo taken from the WEB

 

 

Head above Water

You’ve seen me at my absolute worst

You’ve seen my obvious imperfections

You’ve seen me at rock bottom.

 

Now see me clean and smitten for life!

 

You’ve seen me slip on banana peels

You’ve seen my shaky judgment

You’ve seen me make alleyway transactions.

 

Now see me clean and smitten for life!

 

You’ve seen me fall prey to pills

You’ve seen my demons firsthand

You’ve seen me in my beggar’s state.

 

Now see me clean and smitten for life!

 

You’ve seen me throw around denial

You’ve seen my waned confidence

You’ve seen me at my absolute dirtiest.

 

Now see me clean and smitten for life!

 

© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Curiosity

The Truth (Writing as Curiosity)

 

 

Photo taken from the WEB

 

The blood gushing from civilian stomachs

each picture taken, a sickening moment

each cover-up, a testament to

America’s Underground Railroad.

 

The bombs bursting in air

America’s good fortune is threatened

even America plays by its own rules.

 

Innocent children become fatherless

consumed by constant relentlessness

victims of foreign bombing.

 

© 2009 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Curiosity

Excerpt from “The Flower that Wasn’t Meant to Blossom”

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

The audio performance of this poem can be found here: http://www.reverbnation.com/blackangelcuriosity?page_view_source=facebook_app

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

On the Doorsteps (Writing as Curiosity)

 

Constantly knocking

constantly falling short

constantly coming up short of my goal

constantly fighting acceptance

a constant disapproval I let get me down

constantly wearing a depressed face.

 

Constantly walking without any sense of direction

a constant downpour of pain and suffering, deception and deceit

constantly settling for no Bianca

constantly having no sunshine in my city

constantly settling for last place no more!

 

© 2009 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Curiosity.

Excerpt from “The Flower that wasn’t Meant to Blossom”

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

 

The audio performance of this piece can be heard at: http://www.reverbnation.com/blackangelcuriosity?page_view_source=facebook_app

 

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

Finale (Writing as Black Angel)

     

 

Life guard’s post

3:41 AM

kitchen knife

in heavy tote

suicide note

in uncertain hand.

Beach sand

3:49 AM

empty Vodka

in certain hand

death thoughts

in heavy tote.

Calm waves

3:56 AM

barefoot dreams

in heavy tote

kitchen knife

in uncertain hand.

Life guard’s post

3:59 AM

suicide note

in heavy tote

death thoughts

in certain hand.

 

© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Black Angel

My New Chapbook of Poetry!!!

Greetings poets, poetry lovers, followers, and casual readers! Hope all is well. I have an announcement! On January 17, 2014 (59 days away), I will be self-publishing my sixth collection of poetry (my third chapbook ). Burdens, written as Black Angel and Curiosity explores some of the unwanted burdens one carries throughout life. The book will be distributed as a PDF file to anyone that is interested in reading. All you have to do is send an e-mail to spiltinkpoetry@hotmail.com stating that you want to be on the “Burdens Chapbook”  E-mail list!

For more information about me, feel free to send me a message over on Facebook.com: https://www.facebook.com/charlesauthorbanksjr

You can also “like” my Facebook fan page and follow updates about Burdens and future projects: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-Angel-and-Curiosity/223003214420741

More information about Spilt Ink Poetry can be found on their Facebook fan page: https://www.facebook.com/SpiltInkPoetry

Spilt Ink Poetry is also on Twitter.com: https://twitter.com/SpiltInkPoetry

As well as their advice blog on WordPress.com: http://spiltinkpoetrypress.wordpress.com/

And of course you can continue visiting this blog for more poetry!Thanks again for the continued support. I hope you decide to read my book!

Respectfully yours, Charles Banks, Jr.

Photo by Derrick Denton (May 2, 2013)

Inheritance (Writing as Black Angel)

Photo taken from the WEB

I originate from the land where everything goes wrong.

Devious children amputate the wings of butterflies

And trap them in glass jars with no airway channels.

Mothers with displaced emotions proceed with no warning

To strike off-spring with closed palms.

 

There is no hope in my hometown.

The streetlights fade out and shadows dominate.

Zombies run amuck, paying homage to defeat.

I am the only one who resembles a human being.

 

I originate from the land of the abandoners.

Selfish fathers ignore paternal duties

And go on long prison stints.

Ambitious brothers leave behind siblings

To give chase to the honey jar.

 

There is no hope in my hometown.

The streetlights fade out and shadows suffocate.

Zombies run amuck, paying homage to retreat.

I am the only one who resembles a human being.

 

© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Black Angel.