Days I Can't Have Known

My mind drifts back to days it can't have known. Days when the land was plenty, and there was nothing in the horizon but the horizon.

I see myself camouflaged in the red-orange-gold of the sunset, radiating warmth, and a sense of peace that shimmers like starlight on nighttime lakes.

In my cloak of Autumn, and shod with the wings of Mercury, I swiftly run and dance in Earth's golden joy, among the wild stallions of yesterday.

My heart thumps as wildly as the thundering of their hoof beats. I feel the warm, gentle air on my skin. Somewhere, I detect the aroma of corn cakes. I hear my own wild, free, and joyous laughter, and with the setting of the sun, we rest.

The next morning, I awake, and my mind drifts back to days it can't have known. Days when my name was something unpronounceable, yet synonymous with God's joy, and when there was nothing in the horizon, but the horizon.

Ode to Childhood

I was born on a tuffet crafted by Mother Goose,

My diet lovingly fed to me, as prescribed by Dr. Seuss.

I once flew with my brother, The Raven, in a century of yore,

But he perched above a door frame, stopped and stayed he evermore.

I've written volumes with the feather from Yankee Doodle's hat,

T'was my beauty that caused poor Casey to strike out while up at bat.

I spent nights in Arabia on flying carpets and desert sand,

I was baptized with Pixie dust by Tink and Peter Pan.

When that fire burned in Chicago, and needed to be quelled,

I fetched water in the Oaken Bucket I found down in the well.

I slid down rainbows with C.C., my next door playmate,

And loaned my bike to a white rabbit so he wouldn't be late.

I've criss-crossed centuries, eons, eras, space and time,

Resting only a moment to fashion this rhyme.

The world is so harsh and cruel now, and childhood passes so fast,

But bedtime stories with your children help make the memories last.



Which story are you reading with your children tonight?

Dropped Soap

This poem is the third installment in a series. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to post them all together. The Skills God Gave Me, If I Kill My Brother, and Dropped Soap, are all fictitious although inspired by real events. They follow a fictitious character from his days of simply dealing drugs, to the escalation of murder, and finally jail.

The harsh sound of metal,
As gates and bars clang shut,
Dudes calling me baby,
And looking at my butt.

Gotta play hard,
Though I'm scared as all hell.
Twenty to life,
Inside one of those cells.

That's how it felt
When I first got here,
As I fought down emotions,
And choked back tears.

Used to get letters,
And maybe a visit or two,
But the visits stopped long ago,
And the letters are few.

Cause family grows up, and moves on,
And just don't have the time
To be committed to a brother
Who committed a crime.

Heard my girl got some kids now
By some nigga off the block,
Remembering when I was on the outside,
And had all that shit on lock.

Probably better if they all forget me,
Means less people to answer to.
Ain't got to explain to nobody,
Or hide the shit that I been through.

Ain't gotta avoid the questions in their eyes,
Or, the ones just hanging in the air,
Wondering if I'm now some body's bitch,
And no longer a hustler or a player.

Wondering if my manhood's been taken,
If the user's now being used.
Don't wanna have to answer the question,
That, yeah, I have been abused.

See, cause some fights I win,
And some fights I lose,
And sometimes, I need protection,
Cigarettes, or shoes.

Family don't come around,
But still, I gotta survive,
So I do what I gotta do,
To keep my ass alive.

Everyday is a struggle,
A life or death situation,
Another new hassle,
Or new complication.

But, I've learned manhood's a perception,
And every body's perception ain't the same,
And depending on where you happen to be,
There are different rule to playing the game.

Twenty to life,
So, what does manhood mean to me?
That in order to save what life I got left,
I play the game accordingly.

You can judge me if you want to,
And I ain't asking to be forgiven,
Just understand when I say fuck you,
Cause I'm still here, and I got to keep living.

Forecasts In Gray

Upon my door,
Comes a desperate knock.
Who is it? I ask,
Before I turn the lock.

Answers back a voice,
Full of urgency and fear,
Call 9-1-1,
A girl's been shot out here.

Neighborhood's now invaded,
By cops and camera crews,
So I know this story,
Will make the evening news.

The 11:00 news,
Now the story is told:
The shooter and victim,
Fourteen and sixteen years old.

They didn't know his motive,
And she was critical, yet stable,
And they'd give us more details,
Just as soon as they were able.

How can our children be caught up,
In things so sadistic,
Never heard any more details.
Chalk it up to statistics.

Flirtation III --Consequences

Hers

He always believes
Everything that I say,
So I knew
That it wouldn't be different today.

I told him I was late
Due to a childhood friend of mine,
That while she and I were catching up,
We just lost track of time.

He said that he had called me
And had gotten my voice mail,
I said that must have been the time
My friend borrowed my cell.

I felt real bad for lying,
But what was I supposed to say?
It ain't easy to walk into the house,
And say, 'I fucked someone else today.'

The next morning when he left for work,
He simply said, 'Goodbye.'
No kiss, no hug, no eye contact.
Did he know about my lie?

I fixed us a nice candlelit dinner.
He ate a ham sandwich in the den.
He said he didn't want anything I fixed,
Cause he didn't know where my hands had been."

I asked him what he meant by that,
And why he was being so cold,
He said that he'd never treated me,
Like anything less than gold.

He said that against his family's wishes,
He stood and made me his spouse,
And that he worked his ass off in overtime,
To keep us in this house.

He trusted me to go out with my friends,
To have a little fun,
And he figured I danced and flirted a little,
But he didn't think I'd screw anyone.

He asked if I remembered his cousin,
The one who just got out of jail,
"Well, guess where he's working now baby,
Yeah, that's right, the motel!"

"He called when he saw you get outta car,
With a dude that wasn't me.
Remember he was on the phone,
When he gave your dude the key?"

He said, "What hurt more than anything,
Was that when we stood eye to eye,
You told me not just one story,
But a second to cover the first lie!"

With that, he told me we were done,
And our relationship was through,
Cause he couldn't spend another day,
With someone who wasn't true.

A few weeks later we began to talk.
A month and a half, we reconciled,
Only to be hit with the realization,
That I'm carrying a child!

His

I got out of the car,
And walked into the house,
Into the furious fury,
Of my hurt, angry spouse.

All of my basketball trophies,
Were smashed up on the floor,
And my expensive new clothes,
Were flying out the front door.

The whole time she was yelling,
That I was out with some trick,
And how my family was less important
To me than my dick.

I told her she was wrong,
That I was out with my boys.
She said she wasn't stupid,
And to quit spoutin' that noise.

She said that in the past,
She had ignored all the signs,
That because she loved my black ass,
She pretended to be blind.

She said since I wasn't worried,
About my family's plight,
I could get the fuck out,
Cause they'd be alright.

That she'd been holding it down,
All the time I was playing,
And since game was what I wanted,
Wasn't no sense in me staying.

So, I pleaded my case,
And kept trying to deny,
That I did what was hurting her,
And making her cry.

But she wasn't trying to hear,
Anything that I said.
She said from that moment forward,
To her, I was dead.

Now, I'm back at my mama's,
Been here for a while.
Gotta wait another weekend,
To spend time with my child.

A once a week daddy,
Is what I'm reduced to.
She said since I was always out playing,
It's what he's been used to.

And while I hate to admit it,
I can't whine and complain,
Cause it was my indiscretion,
That brought me this pain.

And just when I thought,
I'd make it outta this mess,
I got a letter today,
About a paternity test.

So, now I sit here,
A broken man,
The cost I must bear,
For a one night stand.

Flirtation II--The Encounter

So now we're at the motel,
Bout to do the wrong thing,
No regard for our spouses,
Our vows, or our rings,

Just here for the appeal,
And the sexual attraction,
For one night of lust,
And we hope, satisfaction.

We both know it's wrong
For us to be here this way,
Our lovers gave us their trust,
And we've both gone astray.

At some point in time,
And only God knows when,
The two of us,
Must atone for this sin,

But right now, we're not thinking,
Cause we're on that hormonal tip,
And we're high off of our drugs of choice,
And the spirits we just sipped.

So now we're in bed,
Bumping and grinding like we're single.
Our passions ignite.
Our body fluids comingle.

While exchanging numbers back at the club parking lot
After one last stolen kiss,
I see you check your cell phone,
For the call that you just missed.

From the look that you just gave me,
As you dial a number on your cell,
I know the call is from your wife,
And I wonder what lie you'll tell.

As I walk away towards my own car,
I hear your convincing tone,
As you tell her the music was too loud,
And you didn't hear your phone.

Re-applying my lipstick,
And making sure my clothes are straight,
I plot, and then rehearse the lie,
I'm gonna tell my mate.

Flirtation

You know lover, for some time now,
I've been watching you across the room,
Digging the way that you lick your lips,
And your eyes melt the shadows and gloom.

Checkin the way that you carry yourself,
Struttin' like you know you da shit.
Now you're flashing me that sneaky smile,
Cause you know I'm feeling it.

So, you slide over to my table,
With that physique-- so big and strong,
And ask me to come dance with you,
Like you know this is my song.

So now we're on the dance floor,
And I don't want you to say a word,
Cause there's nothing you can say to me
That I ain't already heard.

Just kiss me like you're in love with me,
While we're dancing on the floor.
It don't really matter that you're not,
Just that it hints there may be more.

The strength of your hands is turning me on,
As they encircle my waist and hips.
I'm not even gonna mention the front of your pants,
Cause I'd have to stop kissing your lips.

Now we've already sorta crossed that line,
That leads to that midnight creep.
Our choices are go to a motel room,
Or go home to our spouses and sleep.

I know it was wrong to steal a kiss,
But come on now, let's keep it real.
What do people come to the club for?
They come cause they love the appeal...

....of Flirtation

Cravin' You - Rhythmic Rain

Baby,

From the very second I open my eyes,
I crave the taste of your lips, the feel of your arms around me,
Your presence, your essence, your being.

As my head hits my pillow, and my eyelids shut,
I crave the taste of your lips, the feel of your arms around me,
Your presence, your essence, your being.

Since the dawn of time, until time's great end,
You'll always be my soulmate, my lover, my friend.

No matter how many reincarnations, the distance, or space,
My love will find yours and reside in that place.

Cause from the day to the darkness, and every second of every minute,
I don't want to breathe a breath without you being in it.

Cause from the very second I open my eyes,
I crave the taste of your lips, the feel of your arms around me,
Your presence, your essence, your being.

And with all that I am,
I love you.

Your Love Has The Ability

Your love has the ability
To make me talk on and on, incessantly,
while saying absolutely nothing at all.

To blind me,
And yet, expand my field of vision.

To make my heart race and be still,
All at the same time.

Your love has the ability to drive me totally and completely insane,
Yet anchor me, and be my only hold on sanity.

And, to steer me left, when I want to go right,
But never, ever, steer me wrong.

Your love has the ability to weaken my heart, my soul, my mind, and my knees,
And remain my rock, my support, and my strength.

Your love has the ability to make me love you, cherish and adore you,
And I love you,
Because your love has these abilities."

The Cycles of Summer

Her name was Summer. She was gifted with the ability to create laughter, to radiate warmth, and to bring folks together. The sunshine was her happiness, and her heartbeat pumped party anthems harder than Naughty by Nature.

Year after year, she would fall for those boys who would take of their shirts to bask in her warmth. She tried desperately to seduce them with her warm gentle breezes, cooling licks from backyard hoses, and midnight displays of her moons and stars, but was always disappointed as they took her for granted, and paraded their other lovers before her.

As her sadness grew, the days began to shorten. The laughter of the people became less frequent, and Summer's warmth began to chill. In her wake, even the trees began to tremble in fear, losing their leaves in vivid shades of reds and golds. The once hot party anthems were now cool riffs from saxophones, trumpets, and piano keys.

Heartbroken and desolate, day after day, her life became colder than the snows of winter, her words no longer buzzed and chirped with life. Now, they just hung in the air in symmetrical, crystalline forms. There was even the occasional moment when her heart was so cold, that even her whispers would have passersby doubled over, guarding against their harshness.

One day, the red breast of a robin caught her eye, and its song caught her ear. Wanting to be alone, she tried to chase it away. She tried to bury it in a blizzard of harsh words, but hope springs eternal, and the robin survived.

Day after day, the robin sang to her its sweet melodies of April showers. Each note bursting into beautiful pastel pinks and blues. He blew her kisses scented with the sweet smell of jelly beans and gum drops, and tickled her face with the petals of Lily of the Valley.

Slowly, he melted her heart, and once again, her words spoke new life. Each new day brought her new joy, and once again, she radiated warmth, the sunshine was her happiness, and her heartbeat pumped party anthems.

She knew it was all just a vicious cycle. She would once again fall for the shirtless boys who basked in her warmth, but she would rise again. She always did. She was back to herself again. She was Summer.

On The Fragile Wings of Wish Angels

In the dark early morning,
In this cool winter air,
I lift up my eyes
And whisper a prayer.

I pray for this world,
The dawn of a new day,
A safe place for our children,
To live, grow, and play.

I pray for simplicity,
For calm, and for peace,
And an end to the war
Over in the mid-east.

I pray for positivity,
And productivity in my life,
And the courage and strength
To face any hardship or strife.

I pray to long and broad jump hurdles
That are placed in my path,
And I pray to please the Father,
So I don't incur His wrath.

On the fragile wings of wish angels,
Interwoven in feathers, and carried with love,
Into the fading morning moonbeams,
To the brightening heavens up above,

Thus my prayers are delivered
Into the Father's holy hands,
And my heart and soul rest easy,
Knowing I'll be in His plans.

On this cool, dark, winter morning
As my breath evaporates in the air,
On the fragile wings of wish angels,
I offer up my prayer.

Convo

A group of young brothas was talking about their women one day, you know, just talking shit as usual, when one of them said he needed to get home.



One of his boys said, "Oh yeah, that's right. I forgot your ass was henpecked. You better hurry up before she comes looking to whup that ass."



The rest of his boys laughed.



He started to just walk away and carry his knowledge with him, but he thought maybe if he schooled this misinformed and unenlightened bunch of brothas, he could make life easier for the poor sistas that were bound to end up with them, so he turned to them and said:



"Okay, let me break this down for you. Just as there is a difference between loving somebody and being in love with them, there is a difference between being henpecked, and being whipped.



Henpecked is that brotha who, when he opens his eyes in the morning, he's wrong. Wrong because he opened them too fast, opened them too slow, or just the fact that his ass even woke up to open them at all.



Henpecked is that brotha who's scared of his own damn shadow because his woman rides his fucking back so hard, that he's not sure if it's his shadow or hers.



Henpecked is when a brothas shit don't even stank because she is not going to put up with your "nasty, stankin' ass" up in her house.



And, henpecked is that brotha who won't admit to his boys that he is henpecked, mostly, because his ass has no boys, because she chased them all off the same day she cut off his balls, and put them in the pocket of the pants he can no longer wear, because she is in them.



And then, theres that brotha like me, who's whipped.



See, whipped is when you tell your woman you saw a position in the Kama Sutra, and she has her shit off before you even finish the sentence.



Whipped is the fact that my woman's kiss, her love, her touch, her sex, her spirit, is so fucking perfect, that if I ever woke up, and found her not breathing, my parents would have to raise our kids, because I would lay down, and die beside her.

Whipped because my woman puts that shit on me like that, causing me in return to say yes when she says can you be home at such and such a time, yes when she says can you do this for me, yes, I got the kids for the day, you take a break, yes, you can use the credit card.

Being whipped is a badge of honor, and I wear mine proudly.

Being henpecked, is what your mama has you, which is why you haven't found a woman "bad" enough to whip your dumb ass. Remember that!

Then, he proudly went home to get that ass "spanked."

Mama's Last Nerve

Everybody in this room
Has heard the tale
Of a body part
Owned by older females.

It ain't got nothing to do
With reproduction or curves,
But we all know it as
Mama's last good nerve.

We done all had our triflin' asses on it
At least once in our lives,
And we got stabbed with that look
That cut worse than knives.

And we were given two seconds
To get the hell out her face,
But yet the speed of light wasn't fast enough
To give her her space.

She'd be saying stuff like,
'Uhn huh, keep letting out them sighs,
I'ma beat your lil' ass,
Keep rolling your eyes.'

There was no time out,
But your time might've been up.
You was out of your mind,
And shit outta luck.

You had fifty-leven chances
To get your act and your shit together
'Fo she introduced your triflin' ass
To a switch or piece of leather.

Cause she brought you here,
And she could take your ass out.
It didn't do you no good
To beg, cry or pout.

But no matter how many times
She may have pissed you off,
You still run to her
For your headache or cough.

You still run to her
When your cash flow is low,
And expect her to find answers
To things you want to know.

Sometimes take her for granted,
Sometimes put her last,
But can't nobody else disrespect her
Cause you'll be whooping that ass.

But most of us turned out okay,
And some were actually served,
By Mama's quick tongue, and Mama's quick hand,
And Mama's last good nerve."

Sunrise

Bright, red-orange, circle
Fireball in the sky,
Today's new beginning,
For night has gone by.

Rising out of the gray-blue
Sky of the morning,
Black clouds swirling round
Like an ominous warning.

Red-orange clouds,
For now, they too are on fire.
The fireball is erupting
As it climbs higher and higher.

Hot, boiling magma.
Molten lava illumination.
Bright, red-orange sunrise.
Beautiful sensation."

Sometimes, I Wish I Cried Blood

The tears pour from my eyes,
In bright light or cold air,
Can't stand the cool breeze,
Or the harsh, blinding glare,

So, my eyes are constantly running,
And no matter how hard I'm trying,
I can't stop or prevent it,
So, it seems that I'm crying.

And, as I watched the sun rise,
With it's bright orange and red,
I thought about all of the tears,
I had shed.

And as I complained of blurred vision,
And the fact that I couldn't see,
I thought about all the blood and tears,
That once, were shed for me.

I started wishing I could re-cry
Every tear that He cried,
To give validation or creedence
To the reason He died.

I wished I could absorb,
All the hurt and the pain,
So the world would know peace,
And freedom again.

Cause I don't want us to die
In a great fireball or flood.
Just want us to know peace.
Sometimes, I wish I cried blood.

I, My Personal Profile

Well honey, here it goes!

I'm not as young as I used to be,
And baby, the creaks in these old knees,
And my bedroom eyes aren't quite as clear,
And these days, I hear what I want to hear.

I have bizarre dreams,
And I probably snore,
And my housekeeping,
Well, I wouldn't eat off the floor,

But while I am not some fine young thang
All dressed in the latest fashion,
I was born a gifted soul
Full of talent, full of passion.

I am jeans, tee shirts, and baseball caps,
I am crude humor and dirty jokes.
I am wild hair representing my wild inner child.
I am wild laughter until I choke.

I am warm streaming sunshine.
I am sweet lemonade.
I am the cool gentle breezes
Of backyard shade.

I am a lover of music,
Of rhythm, of word.
I am all shades of blue.
I am the flight of the bird.

I am best friend and confidante,
And tomboyish rough play,
And I am warm motherly kisses,
At the end of the day.

Well, that's a summary of who I am.
That's my character. That's my style.
And maybe we'll hang out sometime,
If you're diggin' my profile.

Dimmerswitches

Tired of sitting in darkness,
Waiting for the rain to stop falling,
Tired of trying to sound cheerful,
To these people I'm calling.

Don't really give a damn,
What they purchased, bought, or own,
Reading the same repetitive shit,
Like it's carved out in stone.

Feel like my life's on a dimmerswitch,
That can only turn to the right,
Getting dimmer and dimmer,
With no glimmer of light.

As the darkness gets darker,
With no hope for the sun,
My inner voice screams,
And my inner child runs.

In a fetal position,
I try looking around me,
But the darkness overwhelms,
Overpowers, and astounds me.

But, fear is only temporary,
So are hopelessness and pain,
And I'm a fighter and a winner,
So, I triumph once again.

Dark days, they come to all of us,
The key is to stand your ground,
To realize you have the power to win,
And don't let nothing keep you down.

Music Is

Music is the blood
That courses my veins
In melodic rhythms,
And tempos and strains.

My ability to stand,
To rise and shine,
My comfort, my freedom,
My right frame of mind.

It's the soul that flows through me.
It's my wind and my rain.
It's that spiritual healer
That let's me believe again.

It's my heartbeat, my pulse,
The brainwaves that control me,
My food, drug, and drink,
And the arms that console me.

It's every man that I've dated,
Every love that I've known,
Every dream I've lived out,
Every chance that I've blown.

It's my religion, my faith.
It's my church of choice.
It's the amplified echoes
Of my words, of my voice.

Magic cause it possesses
The power to heal,
To tell you a story,
Make you think, make you feel.

Inside every melody,
Note and chord I reside.
During the dark storms of life,
It's where I go hide.

When cut, I bleed music notes,
Lyrics and rhyme,
Blood trickling out
In three quarter time.

Blood droplets shaped like
Trebles and clefs,
In a deafening crescendo
Til there is nothing left.

A crescendo, my music,
Rising til your ears want to pop,
But you can't turn it off
Cause then my heartbeat...might...stop.

Prima Vera--Spring's Story

Always fresh, like new, green grass or the morning dew, Prima Vera brought new life to everything she touched. She touched a tree, dormant from winter's cold, and her tenderness coaxed the shy, baby leaves to show themselves. She touched a bluebird, and its song sang happiness that radiated like sun rays.

She adorned herself in the bright, azure blue of the sky and the vibrant, greens of the forest's foliage. Her laughter played upon the ears like the happy plink, plink of a child's toy piano, or the backyard wind chimes that secretly summon the fairies to dance.

Occasionally, her emotions overtook her. There were random moments of joy that caused her to rain gentle tears upon all in her presence--light sprinkles that caused them to giggle in their own joy, or to take cover in the nearest doorway or alcove. Sometimes, she was furious, and her screams seemed to echo off the mountains, through the valleys, and off the tenement buildings in the projects.

She never stayed angry for long. After each outburst, she apologized with roses, or tulips, daffodils, or dandelions. Her gifts were always appreciated. They were admired by man and beast, birds and bees alike.

Prima Vera like to think of herself as a dual personality. There were days when she was that soft, genteel lamb whose whispers licked the lobes of men's ears, and the napes of their necks until unbridled passion found them in jewelery stores in search of the perfect ring. And then, there were the days when she felt aggressive, like a lioness on the prowl. On those days, it seemed as if her playfulness knew no boundaries. She frequently knocked the hats off of gentlemen's heads, and tickled their faces with their ties as they hurried to work, and shamelessly lifted the skirts of unsuspecting women, causing them to re-think the length and style of the dresses and skirts in their wardrobes. Sometimes, her blustery laughter would just halt them in their tracks.

Prima Vera never stayed in one place for long. Three months was usually the longest she could stay still. After that, she travelled the world, flitting from place to place like Earth's butterfly, and just as she couldn't stay still for long, she couldn't stay away too long either. Year after year, people looked forward to her return. People swore that her return could be predicted by the shadows of small, woodland creatures, or that it was marked by the longer light of day, or white bunnies and multi-colored eggs, or children braiding May poles.

But, whatever it was that made her return special for each individual, she was always fresh, like new, green grass, or morning dew, and she always brought new life to everything she touched.

Connie Benton/ScorpioPoet/Rhythmic Rain

If I Kill My Brother (The Sequel)

If I kill my brother,

I gain recognition,
For eliminating a man,
Cause I'm scared of competition.

I know I shouldn't kill him,
But the fact is, if I don't
That means there's one more brother out here
Trying to cop the same things I want.

I don't want to have to kill him,
Or wind up going to jail,
But with him outta the way,
That's one extra female,

A few extra dollars,
Respect from my friends,
I mean, you understand,
I can't let him get all the ends!

I know you say it ain't worth it,
That there are other ways out,
But you can't stand in my spot,
Or know what I'm all about.

Can't let you know that I'm scared,
That I ain't got no real skills,
That I can't get no real job,
To help my girl pay the bills.

Get tired of being looked down on.
How you know I don't wanna do right?
But all I know is the hustle, the game,
How to sell drugs and fight.

You keep saying, "Walk away,"
And, I hear you. But how?
I'll look like a punk,
If I back down now.

If I let him live,
Then tomorrow he shoots me,
Or, I get shot by somebody else,
Who thinks that I'm weak.

It's all escalated now.
Voices saying, "He a weak ass nigga,"
So, I steel my eyes, and grit my teeth,
And slowly squeeze the trigger.

In the flash of an instant,
His flesh rips apart,
And my bullet finds a home,
As it rests in his heart.

Now, my heart is in my throat,
And I hear it pounding in my ears,
I see people running, screaming,
My boys saying, "Come on man! What, you trying to do years?"

Feels like I'm running in lead boots,
Through deep water or quicksand,
Mouth feels like I'm eating cotton,
Thinking, "Damn, I just killed a man!"

Thinking, "What if he ain't dead though?"
"What if he's just hurt?"
And I secretly pray that prayer to the Lord,
As my feet are pounding the dirt.

Wish I could just go back now,
To being a kid with chores,
Trippin' cause I just killed my brother,
Or, maybe, he was yours.

And as his soul slowly flows out,
From the hole in his chest,
I pray to God up in Heaven,
That in peace we both rest.

This poem was based on a day of violence in my neighborhood back in April of '06. No one was killed, but it ended with a young man losing conciousness due to being pistol whipped. I went through a dark period following that incident, and wrote this piece and its companion pieces, The Skills God Gave Me, and Dropped Soap, as a way of trying to understand the mindset of people who live their lives in this manner.

The Skills God Gave Me (The Prequel)

When I came in this world,
I didn't have shit.
My mom said she was pregnant,
My sperm donor split.

Wouldn't know that punk bastard,
If he walked up on me now.
Wouldn't matter.
Ain't got no love for that nigga no how.

Made it through elementary,
Without reading and writing,
But they kept passing me anyway,
Cause they was tired of me fighting.

Got to junior high,
Could barely write or read my own name.
Teachers kept on passing me,
Same ol' same.

Now,they expect me to work,
Get a real nine to five.
They say I'm lazy,
Ain't got no determination or drive,

But then they won't hire me,
Cause I can't write or read,
Cause I ain't got none
Of the skills they need.

So when I stand out on the corner
Trying to get my needs met,
I'm viewed as a gangbanger,
A neighborhood threat.

But I don't come to your door,
With my product in hand.
Folks come to me,
To supply their demands.

Getting fat off my hustle,
With the skills God gave me.
You say getting my GED
Will save me,

But I think you're just jealous,
That this thug with no skills,
Has more money than you,
And a better set of wheels.

You wanna see me go under,
Can't wait to see me fail,
Take away the only thing I got,
And let me rot in jail.

Again, I don't come to your door,
With my product in hand,
And for the record, I'm not a gangbanger,
I'm a business man.

Cain't Silence My Soul (Inspired by the movie--Uncle Tom's Cabin with Avery Brooks)

Here lays I, Jesus,

Left here fo' to die,

But I won't yell out, Jesus.

No, I will not cry.

Tho' my body be broken,

And I be's short of breath,

And I'se left here dear Jesus,

At the do' of col' death,

Nobody, my Lord,

No matta what dey do,

Dey cain't silence my soul,

When it's singing to you.

Now I lays here, dear Jesus,

Weak, tired, and col'

Bloody and broken,

In body, not soul,

And tho' dey done beat me,

And left me fo' dead,

There's song in my heart,

And song in my head.

Now, I sees you sweet Jesus,

In yo' halo of gol'

And I'se singing sweet Jesus,

Dey cain't silence my soul.

Shit Ain't Real No More

They got a pill claiming
To make my titties bigger,
Or implants,
To give me that perfect, fuller figure.

I can get fat injected, or fat sucked out,
Depending on which spot.
I can buy lubricants to make my pussy wet,
Or the warming kind to make it hot.

I can buy my hair from the Chinese store,
Or buy some product to make it thick,
And sex toys in every size, shape, speed and color
To substitute for dick.

He gets his erection from a bottle of pills,
His dick size, and stamina too,
His body from steroids and protein shakes--
He don't even have to chew!

His hair came from the club for men,
His job from a get rich quick CD,
So tell me again why I need his ass,
Or why his ass should need me?

We date over the internet.
Who needs face to face,
When we can hook up on a chat line,
Or facebook, or MySpace?

What are we responsible for anymore?
I'm just trying to understand the deal,
Trying to maintain in this fake ass world
Where shit just ain't even trying to be real!

Foggy

My mind's in a fog,
Feeling like earthbound clouds,
A white mist of gauze,
A veil, a shroud.

Like the sunrise, I struggle
Trying to burn my way through,
Trying to clear away the grayness
So my light can shine too.

Trying to feel my way slowly,
So no surprise obstacles appear,
Fog too slowly dissipating,
But soon my pathway will be clear.

And just like the brightest
Rays of sun, I will shine,
As I burn through the fog
Permeating my mind.

As the water droplets refract
Each and every ray,
I explode into color,
And a beautiful new day.

Can't catch me, can't touch me,
Brilliance so bright it blinds.
Hope to inspire and uplift you,
And help clear your clouded minds.

Natural

Natural like springtime,
And the sweet smell of flowers,
Like the language of brooks,
That babble for hours,

Like the heat of the sunshine,
And the coolness of shade,
And the brilliant colors of sunsets,
That naturally brighten and fade,

Like the tallness of trees,
And the expanse of the sky,
And the swiftness of the wings,
Of eagles on high,

Like the misting of dew,
On the green morning grass,
And the echoes of mountains,
From eons long past,

Like the soft look of clouds,
And the passing of time,
And the depth of the joy,
With which I write this rhyme,

I come to you, humbly, joyfully,

NATURAL

Like the Evergreen

Through the blinding snow,
And the driven rains,
They stand tall and strong,
Over and over again.

Reaching up to the heavens,
Branches like arms stretched out,
God's silent hallelujah chorus,
Gently swaying and waving about.

Surrendering gracefully to nature,
But never losing their grace,
Awe inspiring beauty,
And never out of place.

When I pass from this world,
When I exit this scene,
I want to be remembered,
Like the evergreen."

I Wish I Were Your Savior

I wish I were your savior,
And could keep you safe from harm.
I wish you'd never grown up,
And were still a babe in arms.

I wish I could have made you happy,
And made all your dreams come true.
I wish my love had been enough
To sustain and comfort you.

I wish I could have stopped you,
From leaving home that day,
Then I wouldn't be sitting here
Communicating with you this way.

I wish I could have stilled his hand,
And prevented the flow of your blood.
I wish the flowing of my tears,
Wasn't causing this massive flood.

I wish....I wish so many things,
But nothing can change the past,
So, I close my eyes and picture you,
To try to make the memory last.

I wish I were your savior,
But the fact is that I'm not.
I wish you would come home tonight,
After hanging out at the spot.

I wish you could've come to me,
And I could've protected you for life,
But I am not your savior,
I'm just your mother, sister, wife.

I'm your brother, father, cousin,
Niece, nephew, I'm your child.
I'm someone who really loved you,
And who's gonna miss your smile.

I'm your co-worker, classmate,
Your old teacher, your best friend,
And while I couldn't be your savior,
I hope you found Him in the end.

I wish I were your savior.
I wish I could make the killings cease,
But I'm just your nextdoor neighbor,
Asking the Savior to bring us peace.

Dedicated to the memories of Carlos C., Peanut, Dante G., Chilly Will, Cody B., Derrick T., and those who the reader may have lost as well.


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Our Time

"We had our moments,
Both good and bad.
There were joyous times,
And some were sad,

But, it was our time.

Through Halloween parades,
And afterschool sales,
We laughed our heads off,
And we raised hell.

But, it was our time.

Oh, and the phone conversations,
That you and Sylvia had,
Boy, y'all talked about us terribly,
And y'all knew we were not that bad.

So, we laughed, and that was our time.

Through my kids and my accident,
My stress and my strife,
As I was yours,
You were my life,

And it was our time.

You said you were ready,
To go on home,
I guess you meant it,
Cause now, you're gone,

But we didn't believe it was your time.

Love you Mom"

Poetic Succubus

Poetic Succubus

"I'm a writer of rhyme, of poetry thus,
I'm a lyrical, poetic, succubus.
I speak words that make you feel high as a kite,
And make love to your soul in the heat of the night.
Words so internal, endearing, ingenious,
They stimulate the mind, heartrate, and penis.
Words that make you want to cum, never go,
Word that make your creative juices flow.
Succubus, an entity who makes love to men as they sleep,
Maybe tonight, into your bedroom I'll creep,
And in deepest sleep, as your body rests,
My words kiss, and lick, and caress your chest.
From the rapid movement of your eyes,
You feel my words caressing your thighs,
Words cupping your scrotum, and gripping your shaft,
Words drenched in wetness, and the succubus laughs,
Laughs cause you're caught in my hot imagination,
As I poetically sex you to ejaculation,
And as you buck, pulse and throb to my mystical rhythm,
My pen is absorbing the flow of your gism,
Taking it all with the force that you give it.
Was this a dream? Or, did you actually live it?
As your heartrate slows, and your eyes flicker open,
You look around for me, searching, hoping.
Just speak my name on the wings of the wind,
Say, Connie, and maybe I'll cum to you again,
But daylight is dawning. To another time zone I creep,
For a succubus is an entity who makes love to men as they sleep."

What You Never Took Time To Notice

Due to my affinity for written and spoken word,

I was mislabeled as geek and thought of as nerd.
I didn't fit into your box of sexy or cool,
But better than a diamond, I was the rarest of jewels,
And while you fell into the cliques and cliches of youth,
I grew into me. Baby, I was always the truth.

You just never took the time to get to know me!

Rhythmic Rain 2009