Thursday, September 18, 2014


Said it best
Spare the rod, spoil the child.

Yes, I recognize that I live in a different world
Recognize that I am a relic
Another antiquated piece of history
My nation works at erasing
Eradicating from it's pages
Until sheets are left riddled with stains
From words and deeds now apparitions
And bullet holes where our collective soul drained
To again fuel
As it did before
Our captors greed.

Yes, I got whipped as a child
Whooped as a child
As a child;
To that end, I am now loathed
Because I say 'yes 'mam'
'No sir' and think to nod in acknowledgement
Of another human being
Another struggle
Another sense of purpose
And, hell
Just to brighten someone's day.

I got a beat-down every so often
For my actions
And the fact I repeatedly tried to have things go my way
Crossed boundaries
And refused to
Get with the program
Of survival out of love
And ensuring I was a productive citizen
Able to hold my own
Know my worth
And never let a system make decisions for me
That I should be making for myself.

I got tore up
Marked up even once
My mother so tired of my lies and attempts
To publicly humiliate her that she needed to go there
Needed to get in that ass to such a degree...

Parenting it was called
Better to sting for a little now
Than to hurt for a lifetime
Fuel for a lifetime
My country's need
To keep a nigger in place
Because the heart of the place
Only recycles the same blood it shed to exist;
Because the soul of this place...
Well, does an animal even have one?

So to answer the question on your mind,
I would strike my child
Whip my flesh
Spank my blood
Get into that ass
And love them
Love them
Pray them understanding
Hope them strong respectful minds
That understand the nature of the beast
Which lies in wait behind these Stars and Stripes
Ready to devour
Masticate them spiritually
Masturbate them commercially
And shit them out
Into the next ghetto province it seeks to create...

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

That Time Again...

So here I am
In thought again
Beneath cumulus decisions
As I make my way past fields
with desperation
And a content destructive, stunning.

Somewhere amongst these paths
I exist
Wonder whether dreams
As mine
Are seductively
Unconsciously peppered with regret
And a longing for completion
A full circle of strength,
And a balance,
Which in my age I've come to learn
Come only with dialogue.

First external.
A sharing of knowledge
In preparation of futures uncertain
With that persistent factor
And a fact it only favors those whom prepare
Run head-first into it
Knowing they cannot conquer,
But can become palatable manipulators.

Behind closed doors
Full of history
An understanding of foundations placed
And before that
Yet still before them
And the steady destruction brought
By others who've mastered the manipulation
Of the collective mind.

As in language and dialogue
And the fact you cannot change your skin
However you can your tone
And actions which communicate a thirst
For knowledge
Beyond sidewalks and trappings
Masqueraded as freedoms
As choice.

I remember when he said
'understand and always be aware of your surroundings'
For once you truly see where you are
You will certainly understand where it is you want to go
And how to get there
Avoiding the obstacles bound to be placed in your path
Leading to dialogues
And desires to never perpetrate those things
Would have
To be...

Tuesday, September 16, 2014


You are beautiful.
Point blank
A creation complex
I want to visit over and over again
In this museum of ages.

You peer down
To the side
Any way to avoid me;
You know I stare
Across this void
Across this place in shambles
As others look to me
Are the inspiration for my eyes
Upon and beyond.

I watch your spread
Think how I'd love your spread
Of those things which haunt my mind
When it comes to the perfection I witness in you.

I think you question.
I think you curious of natures
And these railways beneath...
You want express to thine heart,
But there is only local
Left behind
Forced to clean up the mess
Of another possible love
Exiting too many stops too soon.


Complex goodbyes
He exits with delicate deliberate moves
Ducking behind the column
To wave a last farewell.

She stutters in her age
Nervously offering reciprocation
As time is winning
From her heels to her hands
Further still to her face
She smiles now alone
Thinking of this possible last chance
Last dance for love.

I wonder them
We in the schemes
And trappings of this need
Despite gravity
Of situation and flesh;
I go back to his eyes
Contorted visage
And how beautiful it became
As that moment unfolded
And he hid there
Only for her
For them
For that elongated departure
And the fact that he was just as surprised
There could be any interest.

I knew this watching
Observing one of the finer points of existence
They looked like first timers,
Or was it long time since'rs?
They bring color vivid
To my otherwise monotone palate
As he finally makes his way up the station stairs
A nervous twitch in his spine
His body
His heart
Longing to steal just one more glance
And she
Now snuggling eyes-closed
In the memories of a touch
And the playful games
One whom's in love
Can never tire of playing...