Recently in poetry Category

For Jamal, Mike, Darryl…

And as I looked up at the scowl embedded unto his face
I inquired "Rough day?"
He silently climbed into the bed and buried his face into my chest.

And I smelled the frustration emanating from him,
And as a lone tear collapsed from his cheek unto my breast

I uttered immediately "I understand":

(To all my brothers out there in the struggle);

I understand…

Chuckling incomprehensibly at your boss's unfunny fable regarding his
inability to dribble/much less shoot a basketball/and the awe/reverence he
holds for Michael Jordan/Magic Johnson/ Allen Iverson/
Latrell Sprewell(?!)'s ability and how well "you people" seem to be at
sports….

(His father forced him to study and he never had time for games)

All the while deep inside that you wished your father had been around to
keep you off the streets/ away from those dimly lit midnight courts/
that might've saved you from those two semesters of academic probation/
and the one year trip to junior college…

I understand…

Hitting the glass door/ceiling (sic) at 120 mph/after the spectacular
phone interview/when "Megan" (she didn't become Ms. Fischer until she saw
you) finally realized that yes, you are THE Mr. Hughes/
THE Mr. Hughes she's supposed to see at 10:30 am sharp/
by the confusion on her face I'd say the 9:30 sharp got the job…

I understand…

Working 8,10,12,14 hour days of hard/monotonous/tedious/backbreaking/
physical labor in the hot sun slinging pallets/installing drywall/
tearing down sheet rock/breaking rocks/picking cotton/as your foreman/
overseer/pats you on the /shoulder/head/ass/and shouts "Good Job"/
and the "BOY!" hangs swinging in the air…
And you hang on to that piece of a job/despite the 1250 you busted your
ass for on your SAT/despite the sonnets (raps) you write constantly in
your head/despite your girl/wife/family/peeps encouraging/goading/pushing/
screaming at you/telling you that you can do better/
because the bottom line is/you need that check

I understand…

The cop who pulled you over because the Eastsidaz/Wu-Tang Clan/
Jagged Edge/O-Jays/Al Green/Yolanda Adams playing in your '99 Navigator/
96 Camry/91 Firebird/87 Regal/83 Nova/62 Benz was too loud/
and you praying to yourself/that at the end of the encounter/conversation
with Officer Whomthefuckever/all you want is to be able to go home safe/
alive to your family

I understand…

How it felt when the elderly Caucasian lady/clutched her purse tighter
to her side in the elevator/crossed the street as you passed/peeked at you
suspiciously in the checkout line at the grocery store/(right after she
told you how "exotic-looking" you were/you blushing with guilty pleasure)/
and all because your $95 MECCA/Esco/Iceberg/Sean John/Tommy jeans are big
enough for you to carry your 9mm concealed/
so that Black Mike/lil' Man/Dre/Rashad/and 'dem up the block/
don't catch you slippin'

I understand…

Sistahs gave you NO LOVE in school/'cause you were smart/'cause your
clothes was busted/'cause you were serious about your schoolwork/
'cause you weren't good at sports/'cause you didn't sell drugs/
'cause you couldn't be down

And now sistahs STILL give you NO LOVE at work/'cause you're getting paid
very well/'cause your clothes are fly/'cause you drive a nice car/
'cause you play harder than you work/'cause you embody
everything they can't have/'cause you are everything their man ain't/
and they're still hating on you 40-50 hours a week

I understand…

You spend more time/energy away from home/than at home/and the time you
spend away from home/society/your community/your own people/
spend that time emasculating/castrating you/telling you repeatedly/
you don't fit into their American Pie/you don't measure up
to their Standard of Living/you don't represent their New World Order/
you don't count/can't count/will never count

Yet, I also understand…
That if you lay your head upon my breast/as I run my hands through your/
tousled, curly black hair/long thick dreads/over your smooth bald scalp

My arms will always embrace you/and if you let them they will hold you up

My heart will always be your shelter/with no glass ceilings/walls/doors/i
f you'll only step over the threshold

My soul yearns to dwell with you/through all eternity/in peace and harmony/
without the everysecond drama that being brown/red/yellow/butter pecan/
caramel/cappuccino/off-white/mahogany/beige/café au lait/black can bring

Every fiber in my being/while not fully experiencing what it is to be you
Black Man/empathizes/sympathizes/synthesizes/supports/encourages/
agrees/considers/comforts/tenders solace/proposes compassion

And in my mind the least/most/all that I can say is

I understand…

And as Jamal/Mike/Darryl lay on top of me, head heavy on my chest,
frustration palpable in the air

I appreciated that single tear

© 2006 ~ Sagacious Media

Thanks to a writing colleague - Timothy Stelly, Sr. - I was inspired to try my hand at Tanka (and vent my frustration). Your thoughts?

Madness

Yes, of course
I'd like to tell you
what I really think of you
but I am afraid
that I would be unable
to control my rage
and would blow your head clean off
with a solitary glance

the end

you pack belongings
silently wishing me hope
and I stand idle
hoping u at last
find love somewhere, else
I, hoping you come back to
find it here, u hoping that
I give u one last chance to

Softness

Dove lands slow
Peering at me as
I lay, head back, back arched
my legs spread wide quivering
and u raise ur head to smile

Strength

Nuff
Enuff now
I have had enuff I said

Money talks, bullshyt walks and
I have had enuff of this
Holding up the world
Juggling everything that gets
Thrown at me
While having little to show
for it, so I'm dropping the
world
Ain't jugglin' shyt else until
I get what is coming to me

©2006 - Sagacious Media

As I type this, I'm somewhat at a loss for words. My daughter, theChaos, was recently a victim of a home invasion. I can't say much about it, except to say that she's ok, and that she knew her assailants. As do I.

So, instead - I'm writing this open letter to her assailant, and any other previous/potential assailants in the universe, considering engaging in the act. I invite them to first think...

More outraged than surprised, I held her in my arms
too tightly
allowing her pepper-spray laced tears to sting
my eyes
watched the manhood in her man
swell proportionately
and tasting the copper-laced flavor
of vengeance
in my own mouth

I mentally checked where I last laid my arms, preparing to bear them again

but the sage in me knows

that fear doesn't inspire respect
that conflict doesn't resolve problems
that war is not the answer
that my pride in her ability to stand up
is tempered by my mama-worry that something will knock her down
that pride goeth before a fall
that being conscious is about understanding your own truths first
as much it is being aware of things around you
that you cannot put faith, fate or respect
in the hands of someone who has none and doesn't believe in any
that while some causes are worth dying for
an impedence is not worth a 20-year bid
that this hurts, so much worse
coming from "one of your own"
that while I'd cut off my right arm to save my baby
I'm not trying to bury anyone, or put money on anyone's books
that as I'm thinking this, someone out there will come to a decision
different than mine
and the outcome will be bloody

and that my daughter's life
is worth more
than satisfying the thirst for vengeance

so I mentally laid my arms down

© 2005, Sagacious Media

My most sincere, fervent, passionate wish for this Christmas, is that this conflict ends with no further violence.