Archive for February 2010

Feb/10

28

Street Light

The scale tips from bloodless lips
But dark as the rest of the night away
from thoughts tripped out by that oh, so available marijuana. Your best friend’s cousin’s friend’s boyfriend
who went to school with a lowlife who just couldn?t seem to put that good foot down on the pavement

and keep walking scored that dime bag for you ? the same one you blazed that balmy summer night
on the fire escape. More convenient to do it there, watch
that smoke blend in with that night away
from the afternoons spent putting one scuffed boot in front of the other, walking past baby mommas, pushing designer strollers, their eyes tired but focused, their sleek bodies underneath skin-tight pants and shirts
that exposed the curves that got them that double ? it may seem like they?re advertising for round two of procreation but they only proving something ? that they still ?can?.

Girls who were made women
by a steady promise, a
miscalculation of a stroke here and there and out is the product that for 21 years has got to be minded ? and they’re reminded
of that man who for the time being is either working a security job,
A valet service or simply on the corner doing the best rendition of make it big time he can.

He can
the last of that marijuana floats into that air and you breathe deep. You get off the fire escape; you hold your lady tight. You pray.
You go right on with tipping that scale with those bloodless lips that keep you insane ? the street is a short elevator ride/staircase step away.

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Feb/10

28

Train Car

Crowded or not that doesn’t matter.
A bunch of us together in one spot, straining to the best of our ability
To not notice the other in front of you
On the side
Or to the left.
To ignore a fellow man’s personality, his very life but at the same time,
You take in everything, the way a nose is scratched or the way the eye blinks or the way the shoes are worn. Tied or untied leads to biased or unbiased judgment, wingtip or square-toed will get the same. High top sneakers and jeans, a snug fit on the right woman may lead to a longer stare.
But a judgment just the same.
Yeah we take in everything about the person next to us except the eyes, those we look away from whenever they deign to meet. Most times at all costs.
In the space of a stare we live the life of that person, and
They know it.
Would a connection be all that bad?
The stare returned is an invitation, sometimes a challenge to live their lives in tandem.
Is that selfish? I’ve lived the life of a musician, sweaty from banging on those drums, the hunger to play good music and make a good living out of it. If you don’t like it go to hell. He looked to me but I looked away. Can’t help you, guy. No change.
I’ve went four stops living the life of a businessman, an expensive suit to go with expensive shoes. Nice salary and a busy cellular phone, the perfect device to ignore the world. When he got off he left me with my dead-end job of uncertainty strained with the weight of the responsibility of a mouth to feed. I tasted bitterness as the doors closed behind him.
Once I went a whole ride married to a nice-looking woman. We had four kids and lived together off and on before she met my eyes and invited me to do it for real. I slunk off that train a coward.
All the lives we live on these rides we’re made to put back.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
Those eyes hold the permission to live it.
Don’t look away.

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Feb/10

28

The Pendulum

To the right, and to the left, extreme to another.
I couldn’t see, or foresee taking this plan to lovers.

Why is that when you get used to one swing, one motion
It changes to the other side?
The momentum gives no converse, time of day to feelings,
Let alone pride.

The proud ness of sticking to your guns, despite what had happened last swing
You ignore the pain, the sting
Of the price paid for looking the way.
Telling her to go when you want her to stay.

Have your way now, but coming around is then,
And you’ll wish that you’d picked the latter
Or would that depend?
On what you had in store for yourself before the fact—
But that’s not how love works, there’s no pact
Or agreement when dealing in hearts, maybe minds.
Love in itself is one of kind. Whether you have it for another, or feel down deep
It grinds.
To the gristle, the bone, the marrow too
On either side of the pendulum, fro or to.

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I want all those stars, all those stars before I go.
You only get one life, you know.
That’s what makes that ambition burn hotter
Come to think of it, the sun in my pocket wouldn’t be that bad.
But to cool it off, that pocket…the moon would be a Sight
for sore eyes as you jammed it in the other pocket
When the glare died down and your vision cleared
You’d realize after the sun and the moon and some stars you would never
Be able to get them all in one lifetime.
Could you come back another day when yours was through
Or would you have to start your catch anew?
But the hearts you caught, unlike the stars stay with you, but
Lose their glow as time goes on way before your day is done.
I never heard of a star going out before a lifetime did, not a single one
Stars are the preferred “catch and keep”
Guaranteed to shine with a glare that dazzles, never hurts
Always.

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Feb/10

28

Equality

You’re not sweaty because of my sweat,
The heat from my body, warm, yes, but not the reason
My diligence in the spot I could’ve taken for granted has given cause
For your perspiration; you quickly wipe the wetness from your eyes to stay in the feeling, my motion. Those eyes that I look into – I see you, not a means to an end.
In between those hips that aged the glances of men to stares in the space of seconds that I laughed with my friends over, drinking cheap beers in the hallways of our mothers’ buildings. In the back of my mind shaking my head at the lies I was telling. I knew I’d have your back, would never leave you behind to fend for yourself.
I push and dive, you flow and ebb, smiling in gratitude at your own efforts being heard. I listen for your gold, put my ears to your lips. They hum with the song of reaching a peak hand in hand, meeting the sun’s light as it bursts along the horizon of what we came to do. And what we are is done, but not finished. We’ve got more tandems to enjoy

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A fine sista.
Buttery brown skin, eyes full of life and light flitting to and fro down the sidewalk
Across the street and to the sky, blessing everywhere and everything without a trace of knowing
Here I was walking in my own life shining my own light (I suppose)
Not tooting my own horn but my hand on it just the same just in case and I noticed her at the second glance.
Immediately I felt the warmth of the light from her eyes
She was just giving it away!
Just like that. A smile or two from passersby, neither smile caught her eye
She kept on walking.
I was upon her and I stared, stared, stared, that warmth she projected like being near a fire
someone you care about set up for themselves but given the nature of the thing you can’t help but to feel the warmth. I stared and stared and was about to toot that horn, my horn,
when we
Met eyes.
All the hope that she was on the level poured through my pores and onto my shirt, a rather mundane piece of clothing, and filled my sneakers up, my worn and semi-clean sneakers
that were out of fashion since last year.
The cut of my jeans were of no worthy note either, I can tell you.
I took my hand off that horn, my horn as that hope took hold and possessed me, and
whatever light I had in me I made sure to shine it to her.
Did I shine? In my eyes I was. In hers I could see mine fading. That warmth was hit with an updraft and her smile fell about twenty degrees Fahrenheit.
They went up and down.
First down, to where the pride of my manhood was housed, in those jeans of no worthy
note.
To those outdated sneakers. Her smile fell another twenty. That warmth about-faced.
Then back up, to that shirt, a mundane affair
As mundane as the cut of my hair,
Long enough to add variety, short enough to manage.
That smile was on the verge of freezing, that warmth jumped back away from me
What did I do wrong?
My heart’s in the right place
For the right type of woman (on my sleeve)
All she had to do was take it and I would’ve forked it over like a twenty after Lady Luck left you looking stupid in the middle of the street for making the wrong bet.
Well this lady in front of me, fine sista with the buttery brown skin and once-warm eyes
now had the look of someone whose time was in danger of being wasted.
I was still in the clutches of that hope and in my single-mindedness tried to match that now-gone warmth with more of my own.
But when that iciness hit my heart I dropped that horn, my horn, plucked my heart from my sleeve and tucked back into its cage.
She didn’t want it. She saw the cut of my jeans, the plainness of my shirt and hair and
Poof!
That smile she gave freely was now priced and that coldness suggested I could not hope to afford it.
That’s what I was going on and fine sista nipped that bud early.
Way early.
Why?
My clothes didn’t hide the light in me
they made it easier to see
that was its purpose
but we
Sometimes make the mistake of calling glitter the gold and it’s not that way all the time.
Rarely so.
Oh, fine sista, you’ve been trained to rely on that which is here today and gone tomorrow in the arms of another. I could love for as long as there was a day and night which if my calculations are correct would be always
But you say I ain’t for you or we so…
What could I do? I stooped low and picked that horn right up, put my hand on it and walked and was sorry
that such a priceless thing was priced but remembered for that
brief while,
a brief while
that smile.
That smile, that smile,
was free for me.

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Nothing holds.
No matter how much
You water it, the soul slips
Away. It lingers in the concert hall
As the end arrives it leaves
Collectively with all others
Wandering to the exits, disappearing

Into the night. A crew will clean up.
The silent edifice holds the nothing
That still remains. What we
Claim to know continues to enfold
Us in its cloak. It warms
The heart in transition like
The fireplace fire you unplug
In the coming of the light.

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We’re species dat invents symbols n which 2 Nvest passion & authority, then 4gets dat symbols r inventions. Keep it Real

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In Life don’t be AFRAID of growing slowly, be afraid ONLY of standing STILL. Be PROactive.

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Lack of discipline LEADS to FAILURE

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