A poetic glimpse of a cultured divided America. A staggering reality of projected hopelessness attempting to hold on to hopefulness. Casting forth images of a fallen down society and yet the rhythm is nothing new…a sense of belonging.
—Nancy Bailey
NAACP Human Resources Department
The poems I’ve read were very deep. This was very interesting to see so many aspects of words in your poetry. Each poem reflected many emotions that readers can and will relate to.
—Carolyn White
The Associated: Jewish Community
Federation of Baltimore
Thought provoking, provocative and sensitive poetry. Ka-son gets in touch with “self” through his poetry. W. E. B. Du Bois would be proud of this young Black man.
—India Artis
Business/ Advertising Manager,
The Crisis magazine
Ka-Son Reeves has a lot on his young adult mind. He offers poignant, in-yo-face, thought-provoking, challenging, make you get up and do something, change your ways type poetry and prose. His work screams of the images and experiences of urban life--good and bad. At times melancholy, provocative and even erotic, Reeves always moves toward the greater good/beauty, self-realization and inspiration that we all possess. His is a growing voice that further expands the rich legacy of this literary form.
---Richard J. McIntire
NAACP DIrector of Communications and award-winning journalist,
photographer, radio personality and public relations professional
A Fractured Damn
With passion, her lips confessed
That I was what she always wanted and waited for,
With those same lips, she seemed to touch my core
From the outside in,
Singing melodies into my bloodstream
Like a serenade of love
From her to him,
She kissed me her way,
Savoring the pressing in twine and time
Soft when I was used to hard gorges
And fight was in my tongue,
She told me that it was a reflection of my love's young
And immature stability,
And I thought
Immature stability?
She told me it's full in me
Like the nurturing of a baby
In the bosom of the mother's reach,
A passion that holds on to a "first"
memory
So that your kiss is immersed in it,
And I gazed inside of her eyelid's
blink
And saw not my reflection
But my self being nurtured and cherished
In hands small yet covering my whole being,
Kisses to my forehead and caresses to my
Leading arm,
Bathings in her bosom naked and warm,
Hardened holds crumbling my fortress
And I was open and stretched like a
blossomed cloud,
That was her breath—
My float was 98.6 degrees, but I felt cool and relieved
That someone else was holding me
Instead of me,
And my hands felt free as they retired from their
guard post
Before my mind and body
And then she blinked,
And I shook my head and saw my soul
separate from
The hip of its mate,
And my eyelid was a river dam—
And she stood there smiling,
Asking me what did I see,
I told her I saw what was not of this world
Of sorrow and hurt and tender-less hearts
But of dreams that we sleep for
Knowing that it exists only before we wake
up
In sadness
And wash our faces with depression
Wishing we could stay in sleep and live those dreams
Forever
But knowing it always leaves—
And I left her eye
…A fractured damn.
