The Black Guy’s Poem

-Because we have pain too and want to talk about it-

We tack in and out of love
and we’re left
on beaches
by bitches
wearing our britches.

Trousers handed over
in the name of love
our strength stolen
while our pants were down.

We thought because our names
were in their mouths
their strength was ours
it wasn’t and would not be.

Though there are black holes
in the universe
we would claim
It is not a [Black] Man’s World.

We are the kilroy
caretakers in the pharaoh’s tomb
embalmed and linen wrapped
no jewels to be stolen
there is a reason to fetter angels.

They may fly to close to god
and steal.

Backseat Driving

rosa-parks-wc-1600x500I’ve sat in the backseat and watched the driver miss the correct exit. It wasn’t my place to say anything. So, I thought. That thinking changed after being hopelessly lost several times. There is a difference in “being along for the ride” and “the reasons for the ride”.

Consider American politics. We are all Backseat Drivers. Ok, some of us don’t drive and some of us don’t want to drive. They will do anything to keep some of us from behind the wheel. Driving is akin to having a seat at the table. Driving is supposed to be an unalienable right.

Presidents, politicians, national and local, are drivers. All the rest of us are on public transportation. Some of it more commodious than others. But are the drivers making the stops we want or somehow do they feel they control our destinations. Every day, we pay a fare with the expectation we’ll be transported.

Too often the bus stops to far from the curb and we step into puddles sock-wetting deep. So now we have a new driver. It appears we’ll be asked to move to the back of the bus. It doesn’t matter now if the last driver was more careful, considerate or courteous.

We are not along for the ride. WE ARE THE REASON FOR THE RIDE. Don’t confuse their agenda with our destinations. Pop Up demonstrations mean you missed your exit. You saw it coming. You didn’t say or do anything. You missed it.

Start driving. Ask to drive. Demand they follow your directions or give you the wheel. Your freedom, health care, environment, children’s education, ability to support and protect your family, your promised way of life is in jeopardy.

 

Put It Down

I’d like to put it down
rest my arms
and shoulders
shrug

lay my head on
smooth stones
rather than rocks

ash lays deep

Small brass bells
on every hem and hair
opposite pearls
irritations of the mind
metastasized

My hands grip and strangle
beyond caress

I’d like to put it down
pick up
where we left off
I’d sing
You’d say
your song
my name

each bell tolls
heavier than before

let me put it down
pick you up
Toss you to the sun
catch you in my mouth
swallow all