Poems

A Few Poems written by Kadeem Hylton

[Untitled]

I'm so numb 

my fingers become still in the chill

there's nothing that I feel

or that i will

in doubt of a cure

but I desire to heal

so if I freeze this bleeding

it can no longer spill 

my screams 

they would be shrill

only they've been muted

or is my voice just ill?

No

None choose to listen

that's the deal.

[Untitled]

I release my problems on the page, 

let the ink pierce the parchment,

the pen directs the orchestra of my pain

pulsing back & forth like the heart pumps

pushing the pace, pausing without grace

placing passion and perfunctoriness in tandem.

pupils dilate as they perceive the portrait of prose

the pieces of me placed with purpose 

yet scattered like pounded pottery

or plundered property

take your pick, pick your take

it probably populates the page

prances the stage 

either way

they participate in a pictorial void of picture

particularly present with punctuation

there they remain 

pain and problems perpetually imprisoned

on paper to stay

until another day

[Untitled]

If a tree falls in the wilderness and no one is there

to confirm it by sight and to say that they hear

can I really say that this tree did fall?

I'd have no witnesses to the stand, no man I could call

By what measure of justice can I enact my willful hand

to find a way to qualify what happened on that land

I imagine it's quite cumbersome facing such a feat

but if the answer isn't the real challenge, 

it's the journey I must beat…

Though no man could see this tree fall

The soil hides tales it will tell all

there is ruin and discord within the ground

The once peaceful dirt, moved around 

Though the sound of the tree fell on no ear

And the reason it fell remains unclear

The leaves remember the breeze 

from the lumber's tumble--and likewise the trees

they rely on their roots for support

to maintain its life, and for life to come forth

but when the wind blows and trees don't prevail

         its not a simple plot but a much deeper tale. 


sex sells

Please pardon the pun as I punish those that penetrate young minds with pronounced and

 prolific amounts of the P word.

Yes, I’m talking about Pussy.

What you must understand is that life is a restaurant and sex sells.

Johnson & Johnson, Vaseline, and Keri are a few beneficiaries

as young boys lock doors and lock eyes on what life has on the menu

and for the next few minutes he feeds his appetite

moisturizing a part of his body you’d never know got ashy.

Guys are more visual, they’d rather SEE a sample of the main course

But a woman she has no issue reading the menu

running over the description a few times,

Trying to understand how succulent the beef and broccoli actually is

And thinking to herself, how will the sauce taste?

So these young girls exercise their imagination as they role play with their mind

Turning the pages of novels each time their thoughts become more real

So basically Everyone grows up wanting to be a Chef

Spending extra time in the kitchen putting in work

And nowadays the cooks graduate from culinary school early

On that accelerated program

So a lot of times there’s kid my brothers age cooking up a storm

And he’s only ten.

Problem is if your cooking without good knowledge of what to do

You can end up getting BURNED putting one in the OVEN

Guess he never knew he had to put on a glove.

to feel

they say because I am a man I can't talk about my feelings.

they say to keep them low. i should keep them them under ceilings.

so, i raise up a few walls to keep it less revealing.

a man who feels? That couldn't be appealing!

that's the reason for suppression, that's the reason I'm concealing.

but soon pressure builds till it bursts, now it hurts.

so, now there is a need for some healing.

a pretty penny for my pensive pondering 

would produce wealth way beyond your wondering.

but it's hard to get them out they've been packed down so long

that the fear of even telling is like lightning & thundering.

i could ramble on for hours, you know, just talkn' bout the weather

but ask me about my father….can't even get it together.

it's tough to break that surface, it's had time to harden, it's my leather.

if I could, I would just fly away but I've got but one feather.

so I dip this feather in ink and I let it spill onto parchment.

piercing pages with this pen pealing away pieces of drywall,

breaking downs these mental barriers. my soul needs a revival.

with each word that I write, I shed light on a dark room .

the skeletons in my closet receive life, receive sight and resurrect from their tomb.

but there's no zombie apocalypse here;

just a full mind, cluttered closet, and a heavy heart that needed to be clear

...At First Sight

When I first saw you and our eyes met

My mind ran wild

But not with vain visions of impure acts between us

But rather with deep interest in the connections

We could make simply through our words and ways

Through conversation and experience

Not through explicit engagements ending in erotic eruptions

You see I want to explore the untapped spaces of your heart and mind

No use tryna get into your pants anyway

There’s a long line there

And I figured it’d be easier to get into the door to your mind

The lines not long there you see

I want to wrap you in blankets of security

So you can lie in my pillows of truth

And sleep freely in a bed of vulnerability

For vulnerability is simply the ability

 to fall freely without fear

knowing you can only make crash landings in the bottom of my heart

Where my love is conceived

Like ideas and epiphanies

Or newborns and notions

Notions of love unadulterated

Due to foundations of friendship

Fortified by the full faith you will follow forever

So take my hand and follow my lead

For I am lead simply by the hope that

When I first saw you and our eyes met

Your mind, ran wild.