The Heart Of A Comet
By Pages Matam
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About this ebook
Pages Matam
Pages Matam is a multidimensional creative writing and performance artist, residing in the D.C. metropolitan area, but originally from Cameroon, Africa. He is a Write Bloody author, educator, playwright, host, event organizer, Award Winning slam poet (2 time DC Grand Slam Champion, 2013 Southern Fried Champion) along with his greatest accomplishment, being a father. A proud gummy bear elitist, bowtie enthusiast, professional hugger and anime fanatic, Pages is silly, yet visceral and crafts beautifully honest poetry.
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The Heart Of A Comet - Pages Matam
YOU.
THE APOLOGY
OF A
CONFUSED TORNADO
PT. I
EYALA (THE CONFLICTS IN LEARNING HOW TO UN-BREAK)
I. Man vs. Himself
…that reminds you, you are still human. That your heart is not a dandelion,so you must stop scattering yourself to pieces at the mercy of someone else’s breath.
II. Man vs. Society
This is for the days
When eyala is poetry, becoming reconstructive surgery for the gaping spirit.
When prayers go where hands can’t.
When my black is the color of bull’s eye and my name snaps trigger.
When I will have to hold my children like bullet wounds.
When I will have to unlearn how to hate myself.
When America’s favorite song will dance my flesh into illusion.
When the beat just will not go on.
There will be many.
You’ll feel beaten down by the weight of your own galaxy,
The shooting star emptying its clip into the sky on a celestial drive-by;
But if we are going to live on the shoulders of giants,
We will have to stop complaining of our fear of heights.
III. Man vs. Nature
Something about the way you can see the universe ripping itself apart in the grieving voice of a man shattering. Because he has to. Better him than the world. But the world be he. All encompassing. His heart be as tall as the sky. Spirit magnified to the unquenched depth of oceans. Soulquariums that stretch for miles into the infinite of space. But how many times must we destroy the star inside of us to give birth to someone else’s universe? You cannot supernova your way into someone else’s heart. A smile is eyala. All of your dreams buried in your last true love’s kiss dipped in a cosmos of sweat, moonlit regrets, and all but the last drop of your combustible devotion.
IV. Man vs. God
We are all God’s workmanship:
Our breath be ink, our flesh be paper. But even as often
As He writes, I swear looking
At my life, I am the reason God no longer believes in trees.
There is so much gravity
Hidden inside of us. So many psalms hidden inside of us.
Secrets we hold as we
persevere in our journeys at trying to find love, or ourselves,
Or joy. Or God. Whatever
She may be. Thought I found her at the altar of your spine.
You said you knew all too well
of the lies I hide beneath skies when closets grew up too quickly.
I told you I was leaving,
but you knew I’d come back running
with hands holding every scar
I forgot to leave behind. My palms wish for eyala.
V. Man vs. (Wo)Man
She’s that kind of woman.
Always stepping out of a dream, dripping wet in marvelous,
Keeps shotguns tucked in the hems of her skirt,
Hides grenades under her freshly painted nails,
And keeps booby traps between her teeth.
Watch how you kiss