Observations of the Human Condition

The Promethean Effect

As the 20s roared we could not hear the thunder roll.  Like a morning storm it was followed by bright sun that warmed the earth, honestly our day was beautiful.  However; what will the night hold in store for us?  As the sun sets we are reminded the night can be an awkward gift giver.  From her we received fire, man's crowning achievement.  Yet she caresses us with a foreboding unknown like the wild, offspring of darkness-- terror of mankind it can be such a cruel place.

We have become modern.  Even through faltering education systems we have managed to raise a society of doctors.  The glint of surgical steel has been replaced by gun metal, plastic where applicable.  Our bedside manners have become contrite, abbreviated emotions given for appearances.  In our benevolence we have become surgeons trying to imitate God.  It is not so cliché to say there is Christ in all of us.  There is Christmas in all of us-- pagan holidays of gift giving.  We seem to be the holy believers who believe in nothing, except tomorrow.

But tomorrow becomes less bright once your eyes adjust.  Have we lost them?  The children-- they are pieced together from memories long since dead, part pain part promise more monster than natural occurrence.  Current courses through them they are fire hearted, unnaturally strong-- breaking all that they touch.  Have you hugged one?  Fear not, we naturally embrace destruction-- call it love.  We birth modern Prometheans trying to live up to expectations-- that which is unattainable. 

Call it what you wish.

Where are they learning this?  We no longer take stock in ourselves after privatizing humanity.  We have become commodity traders in an open market.  Lassier-faire lesser people we vacation on the profits, we spend frivolously that which is meant to be kept.  Our children are castaways; in cast iron masks sometimes we lose sight of them.  As if they were monsters fading into the snow and fog of the great north.  They are monsters, we created them-- we fancy ourselves Gods. 

What a tainted image we have.  The monster, monsters, call them Frankenstiens we've created with our dreams reflect our image.  Reflect our ugly, reflect our truths, reflect on God we breed monsters.  God too is a monster ever present lurking unseen closet dweller.  God is the fabled nightmare we respect when no one is looking and fear when we are all alone.  Quite the opposite of our children but they get their traits honestly.

They have become children of the wild.  Cast into a cold world where we cannot see their faces-- for those serve as reminders of our failures, our short comings.  Tomorrow is living proof we are imperfect creators, created imperfectly, in an image crafted to make us believe in the perfection of flaw.  We are doctors, there is a storm brewing and we must display the integrity to stare our monstrous creation in the face.  

Fortress

Why build on a crumbling foundation
I am fracture holding hope ready to collapse
Past loves are crumbling columns
Folding in on themselves
As everything above becomes debris below

My core is the blasted wall of a fortress

Love has been at siege for my very soul
Women become ammunition used to tear me down
My heart is an abandoned post

A wounded soldier is trapped inside

As death rains down
Covered in blood and dust
Wrapped in filthy rags to bind his wounds
Dying slowly

How could you want something of such little value

Love is a base my soldiers retreated from long ago
There was nothing left worth fighting for
Like gun-less bullets in the hands of pacifist

The gateway to my heart

Has long since been battered
Smashed into 1000 pieces
Now everything gets in

I have been scavenged

And anything of value inside me
That couldn't be devoured
Was broken into weapons
To rip me apart from within

My arms should be the walls that protect you

But I can only offer the safety
Of a bombed out building
You would be hiding in someone else’s wreckage
In a war zone not of your own choosing
You deserve better than what I can offer

My tongue is the place where tyrants executed compassion

There are relationships there
Hanging from the roof of my mouth still twitching
What kind of words can I give you
With fresh death waiting for my mouth to open

Landmine lips are cliffs suicide bombers dive from

How will you kiss me
You may set something off
I am afraid I will explode all over you
I see flame enveloping your face
Who will put out the fires

My tears have become soldiers

Marching backwards uphill
They die by the dozen I won't cry anymore
If they fall will you catch them
If they fall will you catch them
Can you catch them why would you catch them
They are ready to die
Knowing what they signed up for

There is crumbling nothing left here

How twisted must you be to gaze upon my ruin
What can be built from blood and rubble
Remnant and revolution
I have been invaded
Attacked bombed battered and bruised

I am nothing but stone pulverized into sand

My soul is gunpowder and demolition dust
What are you willing to build here
In a place that has know more death than life
More loss than love

 What kind of magic do your hands hold

Take mine and show me

Why Do Black's Call Each Other Nigga

I feel like I should answer this out of respect to those who both came before me historically, and those who commented on this stat.

You are "niggers" do not ever make the mistake, or marginalize what we have done as a people by laying to rest the very word that has defined you since you people came here. While I agree with about the struggles we have faced, to remove the word from our triumphs both negates our successes and leaves our past forever stained. We are responsible as a people to correct history, to teach our value to those who cannot see it. To love ourselves and each other the way our leaders have always intended. Burying our past, laying to rest who we are, will never all us the peace we seek.

For all of the struggles of; the civil rights movement, and of slavery, the contributions of the "black church", the "militants" and the Muslim it was the "nigga" who went to college and joined corporate America at a rate higher than any time in history. It was the "nigga" and their misogynistic music that made crack in the ghetto a taboo; it was the nigga who turned every sport on its ear. It was the nigga and their education, and physical prowess, and hard work at long hours on assembly lines that built this country, and its middle class. We have struggled, we have survived and we are here.

So when I say “my nigga”... that is my victory. That is my negative turned into positive, their hate turned into our self love. We are the only people asked to forget and bury our past, Jew was a racial slur in this country in the 40s they turned it into worldwide empire. "Nigga" is a reminder of where we were, where we are, and how much further we have to go. Do not encourage your children t "embrace their African culture" there is no such thing. Africa is a continent, with many countries; those countries have many different cultures. We gorge ourselves at Afro-Centralism as if it were a buffet, filling our plates with starches, sweets, and improperly prepared meats. Africa is hardly healthy for us.

We need more home cooked meals. We need to know our history, Tulsa, Lynching, Jim Crow, the 80's, we need to know and learn the word "Nigger." In my opinion we need to use the word more, it makes whites uncomfortable because of what this country has done in the past. It instills a fear of uprising, it separates them from us culturally. No matter how "cool" one of our white friends may be, will they say the word openly without fear of offending? I am not preaching separatism but I am advocating having our own, and honoring that dream. I wish sincerely in my heart Jay-Z, Barak Obama, Lebron James, Colin Powell, Cornell West, Tavis Smiley and Tiger Woods ... etc finally said openly, America the only place in the world that does not respect our skin, THAT WE ARE NIGGERS and that they should look at us now!

What would that word mean then? What pride would our children take in seeing what they've done? What history would they understand in identifying with that past? That moment would do more to heal the open sores of our history, and bring our communities together than any amount of prayer, education, or reparations ever could. But we have been raised to fear what we are, separate our past, from our future, and we hate each other as vehemently as we hate our oppressors, we are our oppressors. Ignorant to the fact our future lies in embracing our past, conquering our demons and relegating many of us to the moniker "Nigger."

New Day

Sometimes I drift like paper airplanes
Fly like God but we aren't the same thing
And it’s a damn shame
I shouldn't say his name off in these sentences
Bad decisions lead to paying penances
It’s not worth it

I pen letters asking Jesus what the business is

Then mama wash my mouth out
Teach me a lesson
These words became a leap of faith
She blocked my blessing
That’s how I left it

And I'm guessing that its alright

I been waiting for my whole life
What’s another night waiting on my hand to write

Its a new day

I'm flying North I watch the sunrise
Life so beautiful even I can see it sometimes
I'm so jaded
So naked and that’s the truth spiritually
Always there but you never seem that near to me

How can I expect it

And yeah I want you for myself
Sharing hurts selfish always helps
God tell me is it worth it then
All I see are Judas' faking friends
Jesus loved them when they all hated him
Who should I put my strength in then

You're the one that told me not to judge

Lord the scars don't really feel like love
Is this affection
Cause its afflicting me
I feel constricted
Maybe cut the binds and let me free

Long Kiss Goodnight

If I could stain my lips with words
Press them to your soul
You would know
I just want to breathe life in you
Goodbye would never be an option
This poem would only be a long kiss goodnight

I close my eyes and remember us

Rooftops rain drops and long island iced tea
There are alternate universes somewhere
Our hearts don't battle
On fragile thresholds of happiness
No one has a right to use I love you as a weapon

I wish I could disarm myself

There is an armistice agreement
In my head my heart wont adhere to
How many times can apologies heal wounds
My hands were meant to hold you
My grip bruises your beauty

How abusive have I become

I wish I wasn't the man I am
Demon within an angel
I am bright yellow turning faded grey
:ike late summer sunsets
Dandelions make pitiful roses
I just wanted to be something beautiful to you

If then could be tomorrow I'd chase the sun

Flail at fright less night falls
Absurdly trying to catch your smile
I have to dream to be with you
You make me want to sleep forever

I was never alive till we met

Incomplete till I held you
Your absence is the everything I'm missing
Having nothing doesn't compare to losing you
I want to be the nothing we pretend is between us

But I feel you

When the world is quiet
Or my eyes are closed
Something pulling at me
It unravels the weaves
I use to hold it together

I fall to pieces

Pray I'm not worthless
Find a penny pick me up
Wish I were a real boy
I am a wood head
Half hollow and hard too
If you ask me do I love you
I will never lie

Yes

Today
Tomorrow
Always
You are so much more than everything
Yet I can only offer you a long kiss goodnight

Room to Die

I only told you that
So I could fuck you
My words and your body
Twisted into forged signatures
On matrimonys matress

Your voice soft as vanilla vapor
Screaming inaudible ecstasy
As outstretched arms embrace
Outrage doused anger
A vicious vengeance

I would rape and pillage
Every happy place you ever had
You don't deserve them
You became the sad love song
Of Toni Braxton's bullets

Kissing the temple of my soul
I had fallen in love with the future
And the you that I knew
Right now is tight grip
And short breath
From being everything I need

I will love you
Until you are blue in the face
Ice queen your arctic heart
Will never know the warmth of my touch
It is reserved for waste
Better off that way
Like hands meant to hold you
Cut them off I can't use them
Better off that way

You are wasted space on unlined paper
Far too unruly to deserve my pen
But you hold my attention
You possess the kung fu grip from hell
Make my heart explode

Kill Bill 2 Kiddo
Love will make you do some strange things
You are such a sadist
You’ve made me masked masochist
My heart is on my sleeve
You tore it from my chest

We wrote this contact in my blood
I was only trying to fuck you
When the means can’t justify your end
There is only room to die
We are dead men walking

What I'm Supposed To

I am not supposed to love you
There are wrecked relationships between us
Childlike and fighting sleep
We haven't yet put them to bed
Leaving warm spots where they once laid
They are a reminder how empty the world can be

 You are not supposed to be here

Dancing through my thoughts
As if those fields of happiness
Were not filled with landmines
Your image plays on my burial grounds
I am still haunted by the past

Perhaps that is why I hadn't noticed till now

You're not supposed to fit so easily
In jigsaw dreams
Where your words complete puzzles
Leaving complicated pictures
Too ugly to catch gazes
Too beautiful to look away from
We would be the masterpiece
Critics questioned for years

 I was not supposed to notice you

You were misplaced in my heart long ago
Like coins beneath couch cushions
Your value out of sight out of mind
Just beyond my reach
Like your face when we are close
Never knowing what I am missing

 I am not supposed to dream of kissing you

Your lips should not be the soft pink planet
I want to make my gravity
You should only find friendship in my arms
But they long to comfort you
In times of intimate abandon
When the rest of the world means nothing

 You are not supposed to be here

Where I hear your voice instead of hers
Soothing secrets I would never share
Making it all better with that smile
I could forget it all and fall forever with you
Hoping to land softly on your heart
Not to make you forget
But to remind you
It still beats the color of love
And your love is beautiful

 You are not supposed to be here

But you are
I hope you stay a while

The Recounting

I will recount this slowly
At the same pace your towel was spread open
Like petals blossoming beneath his touch
Lips blooming at his caress
Lecherous you blushed
Skin turning rose
His penis thorn tearing hymen

I will recount this softly
Like your defiant "no" and cries
Carried away on waves of shame and embarrassment
Softly as you whimpered beneath his touch
Your skin becoming supple buffer
Between him and younger sister

 I will recount this with love

The kind willing trade soiled sheets for youthful smiles
A chance for children to remain such
Sacrifice of self for someone else's sake
Silent strength the kind you'd liken to Jesus
When prayers are only answered on behalf of others
The kind that never allow you to ask why me

 I recount this because it had to be you

You who knew you'd survive
Who knew what was to come
Who acted without regret
Threw cautionary innocence to the wind
Because anyone else dies from shame and guilt
Suicide becomes the moment someone else touches you

 I recount this with respect

I will never rush a stanza in pitched attempt to emulate frenzy
Raise my voice and wave my arms in a display
Of emotions you learned to hide long ago
If your life is in this poem
I will never run through you
You whose spring time came too soon
Scraped with thorns before budding into adulthood

 I will not raise my voice

It may remind you of thunderous whispers as he took you
I will not rush these words
They may be remnant of your journey into womanhood
I can never question your love
Look at what you gave your sister you living super heroine
I can never lose respect
I cannot call your life a story
We share your nightmares fighting in your sleep
So I will recount this slowly
Until I can catch up with your past
And save you

Black Devil

I saw the devil in the smile of a black man once

Evil spread when his lips parted
Like crescent moons on Turkish flags
Revealing 32 white horses
A proud cavalry brigade of words
Behind a Pickets charge of syllables
Falling incoherent like Islamic prayers
On the ears of Christians
Yet there is no word for forgiveness
In the language of God


Ask your heart how to love at arms length
When your hands have yet to embrace
We are living civil war tactics
Counter insurgencies crossed with crucifixes
Prematurely imploding like suicidal suicide bombers
We've become timer tick
Turned itchy trigger finger
Pirates in police cruisers
Courageously crusading against our own image

We are puppets

That bring our own nooses
To old fashioned
Southern Baptist
Lynching parties
Pulpit pastors save souls
With boot heels and rifle butts


Beat me in the head with this book
Call it good call it God
Bashed brains and native tongues silenced
For America the free
To save the expense of a few bullets

I look at myself in mirrors that turn blackboard

My humanity is a chalk outline
A hollow reminder of something already dead
Tears shed become oceans of regret
If Gods voice is as thunder
No wonder we only welcome
Blue skies and sunshine

There is a black smudge

On my crisp white self image
Some days I just wish
I could leave my skin tone at home


Our leaders become riffles
In the hands of our oppressors
There is a little Uncle Ruckus in all of us
I bet if I was white I'd feel a little more American
A little luckier, a bit happier


What would you know of Jihad
Every day is a Holy war
Between my heart and my head
My hands ache for my own blood
But suicide is a sin

This is for everyone

Whoever stared into a mirror
And hated themselves
America will make you that way
No wonder God blesses her
She raises white devils with black skin
Who can't do anything but hate everything

I see the proof in the mirror

And when I smile at the irony of it all
The devil in my reflection laughs back

And calls me nigger

Broken Keys

I practice scales on rusted pianos

Frowning at the discord
Our harmony turning out of tune melody
Broken keys kissing
Hammers made from the weight of our words
 
Playing back memories like drunken jazz men
We choke back cigarette smoke happiness
Chase our pride with cognac
I wonder if you remember what love sounds like

Baby they are playing our song

I used to make your heart skip a beat
But I wasn't much of a drummer anyway
So I sit at this broken piano
Trying to read sheet music

I ain't shit

We fade to nothing
I want to stand on sustain pedals and let us linger
Night air turning single high note

Treble clef kisses

Me turning into that bass line that carried you
Grace notes down your spine
It’s been so long since I tickled your ivory
I miss making you sing

So I sit here at this broken piano

My memory failing my finger tips
I can't touch you right anymore
We only make obnoxious noise
What happened to acoustic love-making

I'm not playing with you

Hearts are stuck in forgotten finger traps
Trying to press the chords that give us life again
Your church organ words were once something holy

They have become blasphemous goodbyes

I play an off key accompaniment
On what is left of our love
Praying those last lingering memories play in tune
They do not