Tag: Collaboration

Angles and Distance

trE

A Collaborative Poem by Barry Dawson & Tremaine L. Loadholt, published in Collaborature

Image: Greg Schmigel

BJ Dawson:

They come dripping with honied songs.
You happily lap them up at first;
so cloyingly sticky with promise
the sting of their claws goes unnoticed.
And just like that, there’s nothing again,

Only now, nothing feels less than that.
Got you chasing things you never wanted
just to feel something one more time,
just to get another juicy taste,
just like they wanted all along.

Play at being prey enough times,
angles and patterns soon seem telegraphed.
Funny how when you see them coming
those sweet songs croon on empty calories,
leaving you, me, and this naked truth.

Unsheathed, this mummer’s mimic still has fangs,
so be mindful how you cast them off.
Though a well-dressed no is still a no
and boundaries trigger venomous bite,
angles and distance out-leverage their reach.

Let them bait their lines again and again.
Mimic being moved by their siren song
as saccharine curdles into sour nothings
as you walk away from their invite
to thank them for gorging on your wholeness.

(In Response) Tremaine L. Loadholt:

You love being whole,
love feeling like you have
it all, and every woman you
meet must be craving
your attention.
A welcome yes may not
be the yes you yearn for,
but this doesn’t matter, you’ll
take what you want anyway.

And the sun and moon watch
as you devour hearts that
haven’t bloomed into their
ripe age. they plot on you–one
to brace you when it’s hot, the
other to push you when it’s cool.
You are so intent on breaking
every rule, you don’t realize
protecting you is their job.

The distance to sanity from where
you are is a two-day journey.
Wives and husbands, sisters and
brothers; every connected union
you find along your path–

To read the poem in its entirety, please find it in its published form at Collaborature. Thank you so much, Melissa Lemay, for hosting our work! Thank you, Barry, for continuing to collaborate with me. Our words have danced with each other for years, and I pray they continue to find each other in the future, too.

Rengay Collaboration

trE

The Skeptic’s Kaddish Poet & Tre

Hello, beautiful people. David at The Skeptic’s Kaddish and I collaborated and produced a pretty decent rengay that I’d love for you to spend a little time with.

It was fun creating with David, and the finished product gives me joy.

I needed a bit of a mental literary task, so I was happy to get the invite from David. He’s an extremely talented writer who has many bags of poetic tricks up his sleeve.

Here’s a sneak peek:

tll- rainy days are gifts
they hide tears I’ve been shedding
fruits of labor lost

db- dew seeps into severed crowns
black rot spreads despite soft hands

tll- dank air surrounds me
enchanted for a second
but no prince charming

db- midnight carriage stops

Follow the link below to go on a Broken Enchantment adventure.

Peace and blessings.

Electric autumn; Broken enchantment, or: A rengay

The Joke’s on Everyone

trE

A collaboration with Victor Garcia, published in Collaborature

Artwork by Victor Garcia

We hadn’t realized how important life was until we were all doomed to accept unmitigated, exhausting change. The stroke of every clock sounded, and we ignored them–content to wade in our sullied waters until the next defeat. And now . . . we wallow in a sea of mesmerizing tears, unable to fetch the happiness we prayed for four years ago. How odd–the way life jokes around and pulls its highest card when we believe we’ve won at a game of spades.

Sorrow flows from hearts
Life’s unfailing trials spin us
Another hand’s dealt

Thank you to the indomitable Melissa Lemay for hosting our work in Collaborature, and to my homie and long-time artist friend, Victor Garcia, for his gifts.

Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku [Literary Revelations] is now on Amazon!

trE
Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku [Literary Revelations] is now on Amazon!

It’s a beautiful thing to see this magical book published in all its glory. I have five haiku included in this anthology, and I am beside myself with glee to be amongst a whole host of talented writers.

Dearest Contributors & Followers

Literary Revelations is delighted to inform you that Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku is now available on Amazon. It was our utmost pleasure to publish everyone’s work. Thank you for your contribution, and please help us spread the word.

Or you can get it here:

The anthology is already racking up a plethora of accolades (which is no surprise) and Gabriela Marie Milton and Literary Revelations have been nothing short of stellar with informative posts, purposeful marketing, and a genuine excitement dished out to everyone. It’s glorious!

The Stripping Away of Bare Bones

trE

Musical Selection: The Isley Brothers|Voyage to Atlantis

A Collaborative Effort with BJ Dawson

Photo by Gioele Fazzeri on Unsplash

We, the oppressed are still chained — still
bound to the walls of the majority.
If we breathe the wrong way, a shot to
the lungs while we’re blinking could be
our demise.
Yet . . . they tell us we are free.
If we were free, we’d be able to roam
the streets in our skin — black as night,
beautiful as a half-moon, without fear.

They plummet in our direction — bullets with
no names, claiming our souls one at 
a time. And if that’s not enough, we are being
stripped of our bones while we’re already 
bare — naked as a newborn, cooing in 
the dark, crying to be held — yearning to be loved.
The Powers That Be see no wrong in their ways.
They’re going about business as usual 
while we pull at the air disappearing 
from our sight.

One by one, rights are being struck down — laws
put in place to keep us in place, and pockets
are being laced with almighty dollars to keep
the loud ones quiet. 
Soon we will be wombless, wounded, wound up,
and worked into the plan they have
to be rid of us . . . 
And then, what?

And then, nothing.
Split from the bone,
the many, now the one
lone splinter flees this madness
seeking silence, solace, solitude;
a peace, apart from malicious eyes;
the swarming hornets of untended,
weaponized trauma,
wielding perverse justice as
both heirloom and cudgel,
endlessly frustrated by
never striking flush with it.

They lash out in all directions — targeting
the Other with retribution — both of the
self-proclaimed divine and the
self-indulgent, profane type — never pausing
long enough to reflect, to witness that
there is no They, nor is there an Other;
there is, has been, and will only ever be Us.
Many claim to follow someone named Jesus,
who tried telling us exactly this
before being killed for it.

We, the oppressed are still chained — still
bound by rusted yoke of crumbling society
failing to see how the tie that binds also limits
their own roaming; existentially tragic
how we diminish our horizons
by diminishing fractions of life
over the whole,
all while labeling this farce Justice.

But someone says, “Have faith.
Have hope. Remain open to 
the possibilities of change,” and
we all stand on tired feet, shuffling
to distant places, wondering when
that “Change” will ever come.

©2023 Tremaine L. Loadholt and Barry Dawson Jr., IV

This isn’t our first rodeo. We’ve been collaborating with one another since the early 2000s. Here are a couple of our other pieces. Thank you for reading.

The Isley Brothers, Voyage to Atlantis via YouTube

©2023 Tremaine L. Loadholt and Barry Dawson, Jr., IV originally published in A Cornered Gurl

Two more of our collaborations:

Dead Roses & Understanding the Power of “No”

Your Poem From Me Request #1

trE

The Giving Cause: Aging in a World of Uncertainties

Photo by Marco Del Pozzo via ReShot

As each year piles on–
Clinging to my skin,
Barnacles of the modern world,
I find myself staring death
In his face.

I walk into another year,
Carrying my past–lugging
Around decades of old
Habits and eons of new pain.
I fear the embrace of
The inevitable–the end of change.

I am supposed to move forward
In life, grateful for breath;
Thankful for air, but the demons
Overcrowd my thoughts, and the
Finality of life’s end is my
Own personal horror.

I open my mouth to scream–
Nothing escapes.
This is where I live now–
On the corner of the aged,
And up the street
From the dying.

I knock on the door of
The present, and no one
Answers.

Thank you to Matt Snyder for allowing me to gift a poem to you. It has been my pleasure.

To learn more about the Your Poem From Me: The Giving Cause, click here. Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life.