Her Tomb Was Empty

Her Tomb Was Empty

it happened to me
and so
it happened to her

she had to crawl along the uneven cobblestone road
this heavy thing tied to her weary back
bloody knees
bruises 
beaten for her beliefs
her convictions
visions 
the masses could not comprehend
they did not want to comprehend
no pebbles tossed into the placid pond to disturb the status quo
midday sun
searing down upon her wounds
and
she uttered not a word 

reaching the summit
hands nailed into the wood
it was His will
that she should drink from this bitter cup
remembrances of dark days
betrayals
loneliness

how did she get to this moment
to this place
to suffer this fate

then
the clouds parted
the skies cleared
and down came from heaven
a pen
a piece of parchment
a poem
a missio...

You Could Look It Up

make this thing great again
go back in time when folks were happy
safe
confidence in choices made
the very definition of what they are seeking
but can’t 
won’t answer when I ask them
the time 
the people
places
thangs
when they thought it was great
in the very definition of
what they are seeking themselves
maybe it was the time when
what was outlined and written and promised
was never fulfilled

you could look it up

I did
because I just wasn’t curious
I was downright being nosey
and the definition of when this thing became great
the time and place it finally became great
the promise fulfilled
the contract finally signed
sealed
delivered
legal and proper-like
all over the nation
that night when it finally became great
the night when everyone danced in the st...

We Took To The Streets (Another MLK Day thing...)

then
we wore afros and dashikis
and took to the streets with poetic words for our women
militant words for our people
revolutionary words for the establishment
 
incarcerations and interments would soon follow
as sure as Willie’s dice would roll up
7-11
every Saturday night in the back room of Grady’s bar-be-que shack
 
we took to the streets
with the fire of the sun in our eyes
blazing through our black shades
black berets
partially covering our black afros
a sea of black fists in the air
 
God
it was a beautiful sight…
 
then
we took to the streets
burning our neighborhood stores
our homes
our businesses
our lives

that was then…
 
each year thereafter
we took to churches and auditoriums in suits and ties
neatly ...

What A Wonderful World This Would Be (An MLK Day Thing...)

watch out, baby!

be sure to lock your doors and draw your curtains
when you see us strut down your street
with our heads held high
and the morning sun
warmly shining down upon our beautiful black skins
 
hurry!

grab the arms of your young ones
and shove them into the back seats of your luxury SUV's
when you see us out of the corner of your eyes
 
quick!

roll up your windows
slam your feet down upon your accelerators
and don't worry if you happen to run a few red lights
as you flee from our presence
 
here we are!

run, baby, run!
 
we are clean
sober
educated
intelligent
enlightened
able to choose what is best for us
our families
our communities
our world
without any more assistance from you
 
we are dedicated
...

Souled Out...

blasting from DC
number one on the playlist
ice, ice, ice, baby

A Conversation With Somebody I Know

this poem is mine

I don't have a receipt for it 
because I didn't buy it on sale at the mall

it wasn't advertised on TV 
and no salesman called my house 
offering differed payments and low interest
if I bought more than one

this poem is mine

it was given to me
and I personally attended to its alterations
fitting me 
snug
now like my own skin

I approve of its style
its color
the material is so comfortable
I don't know why I didn't get one earlier

this poem sees what I see
feels everything I feel
and you can't understand it
because this poem don't belong to you

gotta get your own
try it on
and see if it is really 
"you"

can't copy my poem
because its facsimile 
thereof
...

This Cup

so I write
never asked for this cup to be passed to me
it's my turn to drink it's bitterness
its sweet nectar
depending on what day it is
or
who reads my poem
or
whose poem I read
and I will not criticize
critique
your pain
your death 
your happiness
your ecstasy
same in verbiage
but
a different climax 
pain and/or pleasure

will your poem hold me in the wrinkled aftermaths
leave me
with loose change on the nightstand
sounds of your words
departing the front door
tires screeching from the driveway
down the road
never to be seen again
or is my poem
thumbs up from a poetic Caesar
or death in the dust 
last gasps of a poetic gladiator
or will your poem
leave me prostrate 
desert dazed
seeking the nearest oasis of pen an...

Obedient

it smacked me upside my head
stinging
like a Muhammad Ali bee
and I turned around
about to open that can of
whuppass
on whomever was in my immediate vicinity

I rubbed it
my eyes saw stars like
youthful summer camp nights
dancing
like endless Soul Train forms
a shot of lightning
like the right hand of fellowship to my noggin
offered by daddy
when I nodded off during long ago
in Sunday morning church services

I looked above me
dull grey ceiling tiles
looking down at my confused frame
stoic countenance
shrugged shoulders in unison
"nah, bruh...
that wasn't me.."

and there I sat
dazed and confused like Led Zeppelin
loud
uneven guitar riffs rumbling through my brain
sounds of steel wheels
like the city subway I will board in about thirty minutes

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?

I Won't Complain

wished upon a star
unseen in the blackness of the night
clouds present 
yet unseen
the wind rattles the shutters outside my window
and the stubborn part of me wished anyway
just get through to the morning
everything will be better
and brighter
in the morning

crossed my fingers
destination needing to reach
the pathway I need to walk to get there is unsafe
littered with caution signs
flashing lights  
cracks in the sidewalks
closing my eyes for a moment
just move the mountain a little
if I ain't asking too much

rolling the dice
no snake eyes, please
and James
papa don't want a brand new bag
just a small cheeseburger and a small fry
a small coke
only if it comes with it
my daily manna from heaven
as my mind imagines a choir singing in the background
no
I ...