Take Two (How I Celebrated Juneteenth)
it never happened
it was a all a dream
a dream we still dream
although we are today
“woke”
they call us
then
it was just
words on a page saying they we were free
June of 1865
was just another day in the hot
sweltering cotton field
still punished and/or rewarded for their daily yield
escape
how many of them tried?
how many of them died?
between the time Masssa Lincoln signed the proclamation
and the two years when they finally heard the declaration
the second coming of independence
and it all was supposed to make sense
then
now
I do declare and do agree
for those who lived in slavery in both
1865 and 1863
Juneteenth
was not the end of slavery
Buck And The Preacher
art imitating life of the day
those who thought they were free
back roads an... |
It Ain't Me, Babe
don't mind me
I'm taking my cue from the old
Flip Wilson show
where I can best see poets on stage
doing their thing under a solo spotlight
I'm quite alright
got my
booth in the back in the corner in the dark
sittin' with Sanford and son
we ordered a bottle of
Champipple
they was out of regular Ripple
what kind of joint is this?
not sure where I am
sign outside said
poetry slam
and thought it was some kind of steel cage match
poets lose
if they come out without a scratch
words are supposed to slice and dice
not once
but twice
lines
designed to pin me to the mat
sign outside the door
says
poetry slam
so
this is where I'm at
in the booth in the back in the corner in the dark
hiding
cause I ain't got no decent poetry
... |
Yeah
yeah
I often wondered why
you and I
never touched the sky
why we never stopped along the way to paint pictures of ourselves
abstract
or in fine detail
admiring the finished product before the final exhibition
yeah
every step along the way
a quick glance but no words to say
as we fantasize about what might've been
if we had touched the sky just once
reaching that glorious plateau we thought about
all those years
smiles
and miles ago
yeah
taking what our fantasy gives
we would make our own verbs and adjectives
our nouns would resound from every cliff of Dover
but the morning came today
and it was all over
just a dream
yeah
dreams are cool
they were cool then as they are now
circumstances impossible to change
anyhow
yeah
even today
do I th... |
You, On My Mind
white snow falling on black streets
you, on my mind
the arrival of spring
awakens the earth with every shade of green
you, on my mind
summer
melting the senses
hypnotizing the body into submission
you on my mind
autumn
caressing
inviting
enticing the soul into a myriad of unspeakable pleasures
you on my mind
I lay in bed and wonder in the darkness
am I on your mind…?
|
With Lust
lust
seduced me into a moment of unfaithfulness
it drew in my wandering gaze
as your fingers were felt reaching out to me in a dimly lit hallway
sinfully exploring my hair
my mind
consumed with a myriad of thoughts
social
historical
carnal
poetic thoughts
a street hustler on the corner
I bought things I never intended to buy
never needed
or wanted
the door left ajar
a low light seen on the night stand
I slowly creep
again
along the dimly lit back hallway
not wanting to get caught red handed
as I satisfy my moment of gratification
couldn't help myself
transfixed
memorized
lusting
when I saw the first three lines of your poem
fever pitched curiosity
hating the term
"nosey"
but it is what it is
and t... |
Rain Check
I promised no one in particular
besides me
that I would sit myself down
flip the light switch
listen for the sounds of my computer coming to life
wait for desktop icons to appear
the moment is silent
someone is waiting for me to write something that I never promised to do today
wasn’t on my
to-do list
my
honey-do list
I procrastinate
again
maybe
I’ll get around to doing it tomorrow
but I am in front of this thing
lit up
dressed up
awaiting my command to address society
impropriety
blackness
whiteness
anything to do with
my love for you
for us
for our people
maybe a prayer to Him
if I die before I wake
please don’t take away my pen
until I finish what I promised to no one in particular
that I would write something today
half glass empty<... |
Before I Let Go
I was gonna sit this one out
sit in the back row
while other poets dip their big toes into
imaginary
deep crystal blue waters
a phantom
glistening reflection of ourselves
a warning
that we’ve been down this dusty road
too many times before
the call for us to be filled with
American pride
and we're not to remember those who were lynched
and died
returning from fighting for we know not what
a warm
summer
stirring breeze
returning black soldiers lynched
strange fruit
swinging from low hanging trees
minutes after stepping off the train bound for home
and never getting there
and don’t get me wrong
don’t get it twisted
critical Race Theory on tap
grotesque looks
we are barely mentioned in public school histo... |
I Think About Things
I think about
things
great and small
short and tall
how much it will cost
the interest on monthly payments
and can I fit it in my budget
I think about
things
right and wrong
short and long
the impact it will have on me
will it be detrimental to my family
benefit my people
today
tomorrow
I think about
things
dark and light
strong or slight
will it bring me immediate star status
no questions asked at the velvet rope
unlimited bottle service
preferred table in the back corner
facing the front entrance
the front entrance
never sees my back
I think about
things
young and old
bought and sold
random thoughts running through my mind
anything sparking a memory and a comparison
maybe something I got away with
youthful indiscretions I s... |
It Comes For Me
I detest the taste of it
it's unpleasant aroma set before me
wanting to turn away and ask for a replacement
reheat it to a more golden brown crust
or
just up and demand a refund
walking away
with the intent on providing the most adverse review on social media
regaining my senses
writing each word with malicious intent
regretting nothing
monitoring for the many
“likes”
I am sure to follow
not supposed to hate
not what I was taught yesterday
right after some proverbial golden rule thing
but
it touches a nerve
itches where I can’t properly contort my elbows
and reach that spot with sharpened jungle fingernails
I look it in the eye
after the fact
after the screams
after the moans
dissatisfied
what was I thinking at the time?
cigarette smoke clears ... |
Clean
was once a poet
then survived the rinse cycle
writer of poems |
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