Throwback Thursday: Niggas Ain't Shit - A Males Response

You are always telling your girlfriends this nonsense about how "niggas aint shit"
Well... The answer to this is simple...how about you stop dating these "aint shit niggas"

But have you ever sat down and actually reflected on why you sulk and complain about how
you're about to be "on to the next one",
because the current one you have...is just like your last one
and how all of them are just like your past ones, and no one can be "just like your best one"...but your still single?

Maybe it is because you place your standards a little too high,
You want what every body else wants you to have, not seeing past the physical facades
Looking for that swan... but your the ugly duckling
Not by physical beauty, but by mental grace
And its a disgrace how you put every dude in the same category, chastise them but yet you maintain the same criteria as you are looking in the same damn place,
when in reality the one that can and will treat you right and yearns for your embrace...
.is actually right in front of your face but you are so blinded that your tunnel vision sees past the friend zone
into the eyes of those that dont want to talk but wants to take you to the crib to bone, leaving you confused the next morning as you leave their home

Or maybe it is because there may be something about YOU that make dudes want to not deal with you for too long.
Its funny how you always play the victim, while spitting the same symptoms of how you became single, but not once have you said what you did.
We're not calling you liars, but we just find it funny how EVERYTIME you're pronounced single its because of what he did, and not what you did, or didn't do.
Or you cannot click with a dude on a philosophical level, not questioning your intelligence but if we mention something of substance as you mention Bad Girls Club, Steve J and all that shit thats irrelevant, no matter how bad you look its a turn off..which leads to us tolerating you for a few then getting turned off.

Or maybe its because you let your last relationship dictate your next.
How you won't take a chance because "you heard it all before" or a situation reminds you of your past vex
Like your guy liking a fb status, a retweet or even an 8pm text.
So you put up a shield and EVERY dude that approaches you, you start to let him get close,
but then you push them away, and remain unsure because you feel a snake strikes best
when ones guard is down.

Well sweetheart you never know what's in store until you take your hand off the e-brake and put yourself in cruise control,
but your still so mystified and misty eyed because your real eyes couldn't realize those real lies and you are STILL recovering from the hurt he placed on you
that we can never win.

Of course we know that you have been
hurt in the past,
But that does not mean you can put us on blast by establishing your opinion too fast,
because you feel that ALL men must suffer because of what a FEW men have done to you.
Because I REFUSE to pay for his mistakes.
And you letting your past affect your futures fate,
While the one that you are destined for will have to wait to partake
because your so busy looking for "Mr. Right, and not "Mr. Right Now",
which explains how your single, not because you choose to be,
but because you WANT to be because if you cannot find tranquility within yourself,
it is useless to seek it elsewhere.

So yea, you keep believing that "niggas aint shit"
All this attitude is going to do
Is turn the good ones away from you.
You do realize that the more you say these 3 words, we take 3 steps back,because we refuse to be attacked for trying to defend ourselves for something that we didn't do
When with all due respect, it might not be these "aint shit niggas" that is keeping you single
the problem might actually be....you

WheelChair Recess

Under grinded flakes of clouds
gather echoes of children
who sprinkle benign laughter to ears
He sits..
Quietly on hooves of steel
bond by flaps of leather
and slightly frayed Reebok Classics
Toes tight, tense to
the usual sights and sounds
of rigorous running of children
An invasion of intoxicating
excitement bellows beckoning
like balloons ready to burst in the heavens
He awaits stout in
strapped stagnancy to
the leather plated backrest
for a push to join in the joyous
occasion of recess
Twines of his hair
tangle in the subliminal breeze...

The hairless girl
cornered with him
weaves her cancered
fingers regrouping
his thick locks
Each takes the gift
of normalcy
to the future
for one day it will
be theirs
Hands gripped they
belong,
if only to each other
Within these tedious seasons
they wait for a cloudless sun
together in the magic of hope

9/11 Tribute : Satiation

September 11th, 2001 was one of the tragic days in human history. Thousands died and many others were affected. When we reflect on those events, we mourn those who risked their lives and those who were affected. We must also think about those who still struggle today due to those tragic events.....

SATIATION

Can I have some more

Can you spare a dime?

Yeah you can walk past me, and its fine

But have you ever taken the time, to look past the grime

To question the reason why I am homeless? The reasons why my satiation has yet to be filled

And why I still have the urge to beg you?

Yes, I’m human just like you, And although the clothes and stench may have you fooled 

The truth is that I was ONCE in your shoes

But do you have any idea of how it feels to have everything taken away from you?

Blessed to have a family and a job, To come home to a home cooked meal and alleviate my child’s sobs…To hear the stories of my family’s day, The 100 on the spelling test and the game winning catch at the little league game

The raise received at work, and the cries of my daughter who can’t find a date yet for the prom

I Thought life couldn’t get any better...Until that fateful day when it happened to me

On September 11th 2001 at 8:46 AM…

My family was in the wrong place at the wrong time

Near the site of the terrorist attack....They Succumbed to wounds of a collision

And no they weren’t under my provision

Because it was under my suspicion 

That once 5pm Tuesday hit….something was wrong

I found out my family was gone………and I lost it

I LOST IT ALL!!!!My family, my life…..my mind…..everything

So I went ballistic, because my mental logistic could not comprehend how realistic this situation was

After my release from the asylum, my lease was up, my job was too….and my belongings belonged to someone else….

So I began bathing in a nearby pond, Eating food at places that I wasn’t too fond

 And trying to receive clothes from nearby charity bonds

And seeing people slowly abscond Just to remain afloat

But see, when you have nothing in your possession

And no support to lean on, The possibilities of a second chance is remote 

So, Mr. Gates, can YOU spare a quarter, although you have trillions

And can You Mr. Athlete help out a fan, although you have millions……I THOUGHT SO

Ostracized by society because I didn’t meet the societal norm....And I truly have seen how my education didn’t mean SHIT…if you can’t walk in an interview without a pressed suit.

 I really thought things would get betterSave for my only possessions…..$10.00, a Metrocard, a pair of jeans a blue jacket and this sweater

So….once again…have you thought about how I’m feeling right now

How I am surviving, how I maintain, how I’m just getting by

This dollar has meant more to me than ever before

And IM TIRED of being turned around by closed doors

 Running from place to place for warmth in the winter

If you were me, you would never take anything for granted...Because although the life that you live may be enchanted, Even Cinderella’s coach turned back into a pumpkin

No I’m not like this because I’m lazy, Nor do I say all of this because I’m crazy

But because my future seems hazy….In these streets, taking it day by day.

No one to help me and falling asleep to the rattling sounds of the change that is in my cup, symbolizing my hope for a change in my life as I realize that I have nowhere to go but up

But…..until that times comes, Where God can see my full potential, and I can live just fine….

Can I get some more?......Can you spare a dime?

An Oceans Denotation

As I

Stare into the ocean adrift, my mind gets set a drift ,

And this mental shift causes me to think

Contemplating how to link the ocean in correlation with the idiosyncrasies of this life of mine

Though benign and sublime, the ocean possesses a regality and mystique that

Seems to mystify me while demystifying all of the harsh realities that are left once paradise has its shift in paradigm

Whereas my normal life is in a hurry I can set my eyes on the ocean with no worries as the sands of the hourglass remain in still life to my instilled life realizing that this is still….life

Observing the waves and its inference to life’s parabolic instances that gives you a harsh reminder that what comes up, must come down

What obstacles you will face eventually will turn itself around…because life has its way of working itself out

Remaining weary that all waves vary in magnitude

Its longitude intertwining with your latitude will continue to steer life’s compass that encompasses the very essence of your attitude and your ability to stay afloat

It also allows you to ponder that as each wave hits, whether you need a life jacket, flippers or a boat, or if you just wish to drift ashore into an island of mental dexterity whose coordinates are remote

And as the ocean of life continues to wash fragments of yesteryear ashore

Some remain with you through each wave, while others descend on to dry barren land, leaving its legacy to the vile abiotic ecosystem of your life,

Like seashells being found along a coast

Some, maybe most, although small have secreted enough mental carbonate

That what is left is just the utter façade of their former self

Symbolizing how the relationship itself came about

Beginning a journey untrusted and over time slowly chipping away at is shell until it finally came off as they enter the ocean of your life

And while some have grown and have continued its rise through lifes figurative food chain some have forgotten you while not being forgotten

Leaving its shell as a constant reminder of their legacy and that

Any and all interactions are learning and enriching experiences, whose lessons will forever remain even as the tide comes in. 

Jim Crows Inmate

Inmate,
Another nameless, faceless criminal taken off the streets
within the skip of a hearts beat
Another shameless, brainless hazard to society
Locked up behind bars, for no less than 25 years
To protect the "righteous" members of this community
To keep him away from us in accordance to the government’s strategy

Inmate, another man walking through the halls of this prison complexity
Another violent offender, another one resisting arrest
Another one refusing to surrender, another plea of innocence
Obviously a lie, no matter how hard he fights and insists
Another one chasing his aspirations, chasing the American dream
Another street corner celebrity with mad street credibility because of a family history of inherited criminality

Inmate, another one sharing a space of four walls with no windows
Dividing the crowded space, forced to live with men he can't stand because there isn’t room for them and his thoughts but
He's gotten used to the noise, the struggle, the violence, the putrid smell...of fear...and uncertainty
He has used his voice, tried to reach out and can't stand this living hell, that has no purgatory
The courts don't care, the warden don't care, the CO's couldn't care less
He is on his own, living to eat and for the civility of other men
His life has become one mess which was once promising and blessed, now he would do ANYTHING to see his family again
And to think that all of this happened because of a friend
Which didnt make sense Until that one day he tried to make a quick buck one night because this thing that we call minimum wage which means that if America could pay less they would…wasn’t cutting it

Inmate, you can see through it and reach through it but you can't walk out that threshold
You can't use the phone, only one plate at lunch, there's never room for 'I want more' or 'my food is too cold'
In the belly of the beast the dragon pleas to be unleashed
To be released into the crease this paradise of demons, so he can enjoy a century of war.
However the police that wrongfully accused him, are still out there probably smiling underneath, because they are the real thieves by stealing a life while not accepting defeat..

Inmate, another young black man working on these concrete cotton fields for free
Another American chain gang shackle, another victim of modern day slavery
Another young black king convicted for the darkness of his skin
For the poorness of his wealth, for his mental health, for the prejudice about his kin

Into this new era of Jim Crow,
Where even when he does becomes free, will still remained shackled by the system
Can’t find a job, can’t vote, can’t live his life the way he wishes to live it
A member of this new social undercaste that makes an untouchable seem more of a citizen the moment he checks the box that asks if he has a criminal record on an application
Surprisingly less than three fifths of a man..
Which makes one question how can one make ends meet when the only occupation that will accept him…are the streets
So all that's left to do to make due is to do the same thing that got him there in the first place
Once again he will be a paper chaser, who will be fighting to stay alive to fulfill the dream he sought before he caught this case
Rent is too expensive, his child needs new clothes and no money is coming in
So he will try his luck in gambling and hustling, becoming a prison style money maker…again…
A beast among the animals in this struggle for life, doing his own time on these acres of hell that we call… America
Land of the free….unless you used to be locked up
Free…but the scars from the handcuffs will forever remain existent and the figurative noose marks from the system that tried to bury him, will still glare red on his neck
What once was love is not the past, hatred feeds the hater and his lost soul dwells steadfast
Until…he is back into the same purgatory that consumed him previously
And this vicious cycle of inmates leaving prison only to go back because they are not accepted into society…will continue…and although these members of society have names they will forever be known as…inmate

My Bleeding Pen

My pen only bleeds what I see in real life..

As I plant and plow the nucleus of uniqueness into each bit of prose

in order to make it satiate the needs of my convictions

In addition to enabling others to heed my recognition as

they read in wonderment and suspicion about which alter ego I choose to portray

Day to day I make an attempt of not trying to attempt to please others with my passion, emotion and dismay.

But trying to be myself but conceal aspects of myself that allows others to be themselves

Not in efforts to teach but so others can absorb the blood oozing from my pen like a leech

You see, this pen retains all the feelings that I possess...

The spilling of the ink symbolizing my distress and

The evenflow of my thoughts,

even flows even through the mental bloodclots

becoming more strengthened with every I dotted and t crossed.

As each idea that is tossed in my head eventually blemishes the tablet as I scribe

as if I am in a trance...

As my pen bleeds, it leaves figurative stains that become so embedded that

No matter how many times I attempt to wash it out,

it will forever exist

In the midst of trying to clean up my life of the dust settling within the mist

Each stain symbolizing each aspect of life that makes me who I am today

All vividly created within my literal and metaphoric tablets that has both undergone a metrical composition of a blood transfusion to prevent a comatose,

Which has become so versified that all blood types seem to be a match

but I cease to allow more to flow to prevent an overdose

So as my pen bleeds I constantly need a mental IV in order to remain balanced

as I continue to quench these paean thoughts.

Aspirations start to become an actuality as life imitates art

Even if only for a moment as I place myself into the mindset of what minds desires or hope that would transpire as to inspire what is next

And as my pen continues to bleed,

only my pen can dissect the enigma that is my thoughts as to eloquently bisect the intertwining of my minds wants and needs so I never know what to expect.

Poetry is....ME....and my pen…is my lifeline

As my pen bleeds...what I see...in life