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?

to clarify any potential confusion

you may have noticed that there are several posts of poems and other creative pieces with dates that predate today, which is when i started this blog.

that is because, little by little, i am moving over some of my favorite works from my old blog and i wanted to stay true to the dates that they were written. newcomers - please check out the work and let me know what you think!

riding dolo

i want support in the same way that i dish it and
want to feel like when we kick it we can just kick it without any bullshit because
i love you and don't love it and for some reason my silence is not as legit as yours
it gives you
pause for frustration that isn't intentional yet
when i express the same sentiment your response is detrimental
to our
health
there is so much wealth in happiness and i want us to roll around filthy in it
spend time together loving and laughing and
just being us
the way we were and the way i know we still are but there are so many superfluous things standing in between the us and the view of that
but i'm resilient
despite my cries and sometimes whines
i'm stronger than people like to admit
and when i told you that i am committed
i am
so until things subside and this constructed divide crumbles
i'll just continue to tell you i love you
to show you i love you
to care for you and look out for you the way loved ones do
and soon you, too, will realize
that what's good for you is good for me too
that i have bad moments and days like you do
and that the playing field is equal betwixt and between moods
i just ask for more understanding because
i'm not as brush-off-your-shoulders and hardened as you
and every day i put more effort into walking tall beside you
i try so hard to provide for you and for us and to muster together the energy to always be what you want and need for me to be
but i need encouragement from you, too
and i want to feel like you care as much as i do about understanding and supporting me because
i'm human, too
so human
and i don't want to shirk away
i don't want to stay away
i want to create a way for us to have the life we deserve
until your luck turns to meet me halfway
and then we can
together
as partners
conquer everything that seeks to conquer us first.

Making the big move!

After years of having a blog located at http://www.xanga.com/skytrox , I have decided that, with a new year in the bag (my birthday is fast approaching on the 13th), it's time for a new web address!

Stay tuned as I begin to move some of my poetry and spoken word pieces over to this new location.