Archive | 6:21 PM

Little Black boy

21 Apr


Look at you.

Hair nappy face ashy nose snotty, I bet you stink.

Do you even know how spell comb?

I’ll call you midnight, now smile so we can see you. Do you have a soul?

Look everybody how Black he is, a Afrikan booty scratchier, with big lips.

Yeah I know we look just alike but this is your time to make me feel good.

I know we come from the same place but my Black is not your Black.

Your Black ain’t white not even light skin, your Black hurts and it hurts me, your Black is me and I don’t want your Black.

Your Black is funny and Black, you ain’t me and I ain’t you, you a little Black boy.

Look at you, I bet you stink.

You remind me of me and I don’t like that.

I want to be different from you, my Black is not your Black, my lips are not your lips.

Let’s get him, don’t look at me with your Black self, you gonna cry now?

I ain’t as Black as you, my mother says I’m different.

We can’t hear you, you to Black, you make me sick.

With your Black self, are you even human? Little Black boy.


Fatherhood never known

21 Apr


To see me outside me has been a pursuit of the “man” that encases this being.

To feel the hands that were like the hands this “man” once had is a daft longing that has made this “mans” life.

To hear the voice that this “man” used to praise nature and grandmother and tried to sing that beautiful song that could never be forgotten was this “mans” quest.

To smell the flesh as my flesh is brand new is this “mans” heartbeat.

To walk along side myself as I try talk walk beside me, I give my sanity and the very life giving blood that will never know how to walk beside me.

I hear me as me cry’s out in the looking for me and to know that I am not far away.

I will never be far away.

To be the strong hand in my life when life’s lessons are not learned and heeded, will be my task and I take that task with forethought and acknowledgement.

To send that little piece of me off when day breaks and hoping the Most High sees fit to bring that little piece of me back to me is what I will do.

To see sights from new eyes as my eyes have grown tried, makes the very light new again.

To feel the weight of me on my shoulders means nothing as I would take on the weight of the world, so that me can stand tall and beam reassured that we stand tall.

Wipe away tears that will surely come because this world is made out of such is what my hands were made for.

To teach me that we come from greatness and never let that be forgotten is my charge.

To be a light in the night that me can always see as ships have and rocks missed is what I was born into.

To advise and turn loose and hope that it was true is me.

To watch me grow to stand on my own to reach out and know that I am not alone, to know that stars shine and the moon is hung is for me to know that I am not alone.

To wonder what is out there and when will we go back is what I hand to you.

To never stop looking up, to never stop looking up, to never stop looking up, to never stop looking up, to never stop looking up is what you must do.

Know that this person the older you has never stopped looking up, has never stopped looking up, has never stopped looking up, has never stop looking up and will never stop looking to you to carry on.

When we reach for each other with knowing that our reach is not in vein, that is when I know I have become a father and the child has become mine.