what you see is what you get - short and sweet

sometimes i fancy myself a politician on the hill stomping for the people's rights
making the laws tighter on those who abuse the elderly and small children and lighter on young people who simply don't have the influences to keep them driven for the best for themselves
and well
other times i envision myself as a wealthy entrepreneur who owns several successful restaurants, clubs, and hotels,
all modern but with traditional lines and warm color palettes
attracting a diverse clientele who
like me
are into comfort and class in the same breath
most days i am the perennial do-gooder
focusing my time and energies on those much needier than i
always remembering that my own struggles are not comparable to many others and taking that as drive to promote change one person and a time
praying that i make the world ahead just a little bit warmer and safer than mine

regardless of anything i always see myself busy
never stagnate
always moving
always changing
developing into someone bigger, better, stronger, wiser
someone publishing a different stamp on society with each wind of proactive energy that arises.

love deconstructed

i want to laugh but i can't sometimes at the things that you say or do that completely complex me and
frustrate me about the way we are and aren't and i sometimes want to discuss them but i am told that i am full of too much discussing and that you would rather do without all of the fussing but
if i bury that fussing it doesn't make it go away
nor does it make it feel okay it just puts a pretty band-aid on a potentially infected wound but
without the proper attention there is no real way to know how harmful the original blow-in-question was
surface or ...?
and your brand of humor is so different from mine that i spend lots of time adapting to and understanding the difference between when you are serious and when you are joking but the truth is that i still am often left in the dark here
and there are times when things you say really hurt badly but in fear of being labeled a nag i stay silent because to speak is to be thought the fool
at least here
and then there are the times when i am made to feel selfish or not thoughful
like i don't do enough or think of you enough or anything enough
and i want to pull my hair out with frustration because i know that i feel the same way sometimes
i feel those same things sometimes but if i say them i am mean and if you say them then they are another thing to add to the list of reasons why i am not a good...
good...
partner in this partnership which ought to be 50/50 any way you decide to split it and that is how you illustrate that you are impeccably committed but when things feel one-sided it's hard to know that anyone has really tried
i just want us to be successful but i continue to struggle to figure out what that means and
eerily enough i feel like the end result of all of this is what will make us the strongest that the world has ever seen but
i just want that time to be soon because i need that push of hope
that glimmer of glory to sometimes wake up smiling the next morning
to remember that you are here in this like me
i eat, sleep, think, and work for us
everyminute of everyday of everyweek
and yet my integrity is called into question with the stealth checking of my personals to see what i am saying to the next one about this or that and
the land of questioning that always lies in between
but you see my public and my personal now
you've read all there is to read but i haven't
i still wonder about all of the private world that exists for you
and while temptation exists to invade what is your own i stand firm to not because i can only hope that you will one day feel the same for mine
what's crazy is that i still think of you as this divine intervention sent to me in my life at the perfect time and in the perfect place but with normal imperfections that make us us and unique
what's crazy is that i still cling to the fantasy of what i know we can be
and what keeps me sane is falling asleep next to your love
one night at a time.

"boss_has_landed" (dedication)

despite what i

let transpire

i am not some lame for hire

some
replicated replica of an original ass muthafucker who deserves the respect you give to another
friend, family member, or even lover

come down off that insensitive bullshit and let yourself stick with a winner who suffers losses and climbs back up the ladder for repositioning
i'm done wishing for treatment i've earned.

i'm exhausted from racking my brain to figure out why i get the short end of the stick from you but
truth dot from this spot to the next

i will do my best to question myself a little less
as I've been
giving until i can't give anymore for as long as i can remember and i
care for others the way i would hope them to do the same and
maybe that's what makes you view me as soft and lame but
He knows me different
and for every ounce of dirt thrown on my feet i grow more gritty
more wise
more immune to your misappropriated discontent

Because you made me.

though i will never let you change the few things about me on which my seldom self esteem relies
in His eyes i am forgiven for my profanity because He knows I'm angry
in His eyes he loves my speech

because it admits my faults against my commitment to the world in which i live
and in His heart
He knows i'm boss
increasingly aware of the things i must do in order to survive the flood of blows from those i know, love, and trust but to whom i am

constant, easy prey
shred with unlevel logic
less emotions
less for the faint at heart.

"jim negro"

black man, black man

majestic beautiful glory

strong present with presence necessary

by any means

fighting an endless war of negativity and negro

negro overpowering the afro

the african

the struggling black from your neighborhood

someday we'll all be free

but when?

when

can i rest my head

black WOman

and sleep deep to awake to our black men still tall

still courageous

still living more than breath

more than air through gritted teeth

growing into what Medgar and Malcolm and Martin were

hero should not have a generational gap.

so

black man, black man

will you rise to the call now the way those before you did not hesitate to?

the way those before pushed for to their plots?

yes, you have obstacles

but so did they

chaotic and unreasonable

organized and bureaucratic

oh black man, black man

Be Negro No More!

we should antiquate the days of the Leagues with Jackie Rob

robbed we were so long of that truth

we own the night

beautiful, chocolate, caramel, cocoa-black men

why not take it?

roots of royalty entrapped in systematic shut-downs of self-esteems through relentless stereotyping

profiling

limelighting the negative instead of the

kings and queens we are

descendants of decadent empires that created culture from the ground

hit fast blood thick staining the concrete jungles we now inhabit

lives lived fast and taken faster

ruled by a history of subjugation that seeks to repeat the dirt

not the glory

the pain

not the pride

decay instead of dynasties ruling the present day of our

black man, black man

Medgar

Malcolm

Martin

making room in the ground

for his blackened feet

sunk in the negro quicksand.

honey, you shrunk my self-esteem

although i never had particularly high self-esteem
lately i find that i have even less
stressed to the point of no return with a level of unrest that mounts in the way that violence builds in overseas war yet
at home the war burns longer
and stronger
and thicker than any i have ever known
despite my best efforts i constantly feel alone
empty
shiftless
worthless
knowing that nothing i will do will likely provide the consistency i want and need
i crave something that i'm not sure exists and yet i am persistent in its pursuit
i look into her eyes and see something worth fighting for and so
i do
but honey,
you've shrunken my self-esteem
into something mean and trivial
minute and untraceable
and again
something i want but deeply fear i may never see again
i simply find myself in a never-ending swirl of confusion with
one minute feeling like bliss
and the other feeling internally dissed and dismissed
told things that cut my soul and make it bleed tears of disappointment and dirt
that's what i feel like
that gritty grit that gets stuck under your feet
that gets swept away
that gets feverishly scrubbed off
i never thought i was 'dirty' before
i do more and more each day
i try to communicate and love and provide all in the same breath and
i know i'm human and i don't do it to perfection but i thought the lesson was in the effort
in the commitment to getting better
doesn't seem like it
sometimes i am scared in my own skin
tiptoeing through my day wondering when i will, next, be scrubbed off in lieu of cleanliness
indescribable is what it is to never know whats next
to love so hard it bleeds
to not know if its returned genuine or as a payment of perceived debt
indescribable
is it to have someone you think so highly of think you are
-.
i
am
small.

if i had a nickel

if i had a nickel for everytime i saw young man or woman that looked like but did not look like i on the corner sipping
box wine and looking for the next line of coke to sniff or
weed to roll into a spliff these
once potentially ivy-bound and now
concrete strapped misfits don't get that the way to survive in the ghetto is to
get out
get up
do something to make you and your own different
because i cannot consciously sit on my stoop and look at you and you and you
the never-will's of who's who
have even a subliminal influence on my nephew who isn't yet to be two
years make your excuses old
the stories of racism and profiling are well-known and while certainly not
dispelled as myth are
things that we must accept as other people's ignorance and resolve ourselves to change in a new movement
otherwise the
sitting and sulking on the hot block where the cop on the beat knows your name and the street on which you live
is just
not
it.

like father, like me

the thought of him being gone frightens me
scared stiff and straight before the news even hits
i grow pensive and introverted the the rest of life's squabbles
what and where will i be without his presence in my life?
tall, dark, and wise
never have his words or his love steered me wrong
days when we don't speak i wonder where he is
what's he's doing and what show he is watching on television
what new health kick he's on or what political conspiracy he has subscribed to in the last few hours
i crave hearing his voice
his deep laugh
being told one of his dry, yet completely hilarious jokes
i see myself in the image of him
mirror reflective of his greatness
his dexterity and kindness stretched far and wide
made in his likeness
my grandfather is the representation of a life of service.
humanly flawed
divinely placed
he stands tall in the face of all i have ever seen
combatting the world's inadequacies with intelligence, wit, and logic
will he be able to battle this with the same strength?
can he?
i fear it's nearing his alleged 'time'
that 'time' that people speak of post-exit in an effort to ease a pain that simply
well
cannot be eased.
the thought of him suffering makes me nauseous
wanting to transfer his ailments to my own earthly limbs
preserving god's soldier for another to experience
the world will never be able to explain to me why bad things happen to good people
why good things happen to those unexpected
and why everything else just
just is.
his walk
his hugs
his smile
i paint his essence in my heart to breath life into my days
but know that paint can never replace the original
the original
never imitated
never replaced
i can only pray for good news
i can only pray for more time
i can only pray that i've showed and told him enough times how i feel.
what if prayer simply isn't enough?