Archive | June, 2012

Memories of my enslavement.

27 Jun

this may or may not enhance your reading pleasure.

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I dread sun rise.

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Spanish moss hung from trees like the raggedy dress on that old hag from up the line.

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The swamp on the other side of the plantation always haunted me. Thick, bottom heavy cypress standing like sentries warned me of the dark places where a little boy could get missing. Many went missing in that swamp.

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The midday heat laced the air with what seemed like black strap molasses that stuck to a little boy like an old quilt; dense, heavy and¬†inescapable. Something like ol’ miss’s eyes, she had hate in her–from birth.

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Cotton could be seen from one end of the Earth to the other or what was Earth to a little boy. A little boy also knew white meant nothing good, be it soft bolls of cotton or ol’ miss.

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As a little boy, I was still in the fields along side grown folks, but I couldn’t work like them. Their lives depended on their work and their lives ended because of their work. I have seen with my two eyes how this work breaks people and makes them nothing more than hell spun cattle. The mind of a little boy could think of nothing but work and punishment. I had lost my before and never knew an after.

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On soft, slow half way nights, a little boy would often wonder what kind of god would allow this. Did this god hate Black people also? He had to, look at us. The people still called out to this god that could not see nor hear them. I asked this god that if you could hear me, to please strip this skin off of me so I could breath free air. A little boy driven crazy before he could stand on his own, only wanted to breath free air and if this god couldn’t do that then this little boy would leave him alone. As he had been left alone.

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I dread sun rise.

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A little boy has not known peace since he first opened his eyes, never knew his mother either. She died with me tied to her back, in that midday heat shortly after giving birth to me. She’d given this world all she had. From that day a little boy’s life was not his, but the highest bidder. He saw his mother treated like a dead mule, kicked to the side so work could continue. That does something to a little boy and it did something to me.

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This little boy never knew his father at all. Like most fathers his job was to make as many little boys as he could. Little girls came, but where not wanted as much, just something to play with when they got ripe.

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My bones were made out of hate and fear and they fought often. Fear won most of the time as I can tell this story. On most days I was mad enough to chew nails and spit rust, but that meant nothing. Git yo ass back in that field boy!!

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As a little boy I picked up on a few things. The others didn’t speak much during daylight, nor did they speak to anyone they suspected. A little boy had stop speaking before he speak good. He gotten all the talk beaten out of him one night for stealing some rotten ham from the dog’s bowl. The dog got some fresh ham to replace what I had choked down.

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As a little boy I knew that to stop this world from hurting me was to die. I had seen many people die and they didn’t want for anything after they stopped kicking. Tight ropes didn’t swing anymore and empty stomachs didn’t crave. Tears stop flowing and hardened faces were now soft and full of peace. They weren’t hated and they didn’t hate after that rope was cut. They were put in the ground and a tree planted over top of them. That’s what I wanted for myself, but I was afraid to die because I didn’t know what was after that. Maybe that deaf and blind god would continue to be deaf and blind and let me stay in the cold ground. Much like now.

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CAN I BE THE MAN **the question**

27 Jun

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I WANT FOR NOTHING MORE THAN TO HAVE YOU WITH ARMS OUT STRETCHED I WELCOME YOU WILL YOU HAVE ME

I WON’T PRETEND THAT I AM EVERYTHING YOU’LL NEED BUT I WILL TRY EVERYDAY TO BE ALL I AM

MY SHOULDERS MAY NOT BE WIDE ENOUGH TO CARRY ALL THE BURDENS YOU HAVE BUT THEY ARE STRONG ENOUGH FOR YOU TO LEAN ON

CAN I BE YOUR BEACON WHEN SEAS GET ROUGH MY LIGHT IS UNIQUE MY LIGHT IS SAFE MY LIGHT IS WARM IT CAN GUIDE YOU LET IT SHOW YOU

I WILL GET TIRED AT TIMES BUT NEVER TO TIRED TO STOP HOLDING YOU AND LOVING YOU AND BRINGING JOY WILL YOU LET ME BRING YOU JOY

I CAN’T STOP TEARS BUT I CAN DRY THEM AND DELIVER COMFORT

WHEN YOU GET TRAVEL WARY I CAN BE SOLID GROUND UNDER FEET I CAN BE YOUR HOUSE YOU CAN REST HERE

CAN I BE THE MAN

I WOULD WALK TO THE MOON IF IT MEANT YOU WOULD BE SATISFIED THEN TURN AROUND AND WALK BACK TO KEEP YOU THAT WAY

I’M NOT SHINY BUT I AM A ROCK A STABLE PLACE A PILLAR A POST

WOULD YOU LET ME TRY

ALL THAT I AM TRYING TO CONVEY TO YOU RIGHT HERE IS I AM BUT ME NOT COMPLETE BUT FINISHED AND I WANT YOU

YOU MAKE ME WANNA BE A MAN **the intro**

22 Jun

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IF EVER YOU NEED A DROP OF WATER OR A HINT OF LIGHT THE SUN AND OCEAN I WOULD GIVE YOU

IF EVER YOU FORGET HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU JUST PLACE YOUR HEAD ON MY CHEST MY HEART BEATS FOR YOU

IF PROTECTION IS WHAT YOU YOU NEED I WILL GIVE MY LIFE SO THAT YOURS CONTINUES

Think of me sometime *experimental*

20 Jun

this may enhance your reading pleasure:

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Remember when we would run down the path, over by the the creek. You were so fast, I loved to watch you run. The grace that was your body entranced me. Your arms and legs flowed like liquid. You danced.

You always looked so beautiful surrounded by those big oaks and vines of ivy. My heart drank in your presence, my being consumed your sight. You meant so much to me and you never knew that. And every time we would part you always said, think of me sometime.

The way you would speak to me was like a butterfly rodeo and I was caught in it. You could have shattered me with a breath. I saw you next to me until this world ended and we would continue even still.

The day you left, my veins froze, time was a thick mass and the air became solid. Life was a figment of someone’s imagination, I was dead to the world.

I was an unanchored ship in a storm. Each heartbeat a wave that rolled me in and out of isolated agony that shook my ancestors.

My mouth never formed our last goodbye, our fingers would never intertwine again. My eyes will never to meet yours or watch you gracefully dance while keeping the same tempo as our rushing creek.

My heart had been impaled by the evil genius who invented tight hugs, long kisses and tender moments. Pulled out and laughed at. I was now half man, half raging animal.

On the day when you would rest, I was a walled off, walled in cinder. Walls made of heavy sorrow and heartsick melancholy. I was walking through frozen clouds of grief. The girl that I secretly loved since my eyes were graced by here appearance, was now cold and stark. My legs felted like daggers sticking out of the ground, piercing my torso though into an upright position.

I could feel the blood tracing around my body and felt ashamed that it was. I wanted nothing more than for this warm life to leave me and find you. To replace that thing with my one and only love. I took an oath where I stood to never love anything ever.

I was faced with what can only be described as inhumane reality. My head would hang forever, I was now truly alone.

And as they lowered you into the Earth and little pieces of my heart continued to break lose, my tears cried tears. I looked up to where I knew you would be and said, think of me sometime.

I have grown

16 Jun

this may enhance your reading pleasure:

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I have become my shelter from this storm, my legs have become strong, I can stand on my own.

My horizons no longer hold smoke and ruins, broken things and deflated dreams and bricked up ego, in it’s place are green grass and open space in which to build and develop the little boy that never got off of his knees.

No more waiting for hand outs and allowance, gone is the surrender of power to the undeserving, the belittling of self in accordance to ankle deep social criterion was last night.

Gone is never knowing when to laugh or cry, grey skies now threaten inclement weather and not deep holes from in which to climb out.

Weakness is no longer a character flaw, but a select moment in time when strength is not needed.

I am more than collection of body parts acting as one, I am a son, a cousin, a nephew, a friend, a mate, a thinker. I am a visionary with hopes of leaving this place for the next, I am the wind.

Though battle worn I be war ready, my weapons are thought and passion, my defense is knowing I have looked at death and it no longer controls.

The love of life is something I have never known and still not fully realized, but I still continue to get up and carry on and in that, I have grown.

Unavailable

14 Jun

this may help with your reading pleasure:

 

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I have exhausted my store of happiness?

It seems my joy has come and gone, I am a person out of time, born to late.

I reach out to take hands that are already full, hearts at capacity, she is spoken for and taken.

I fallen out of synchronicity with desires and needs, I no longer have the ability to distinguish a tree from the forest.

The heart wants want the heart wants and it cares not for details nor significant others, it does not recognize dogged structure.

I am being held hostage by the beautiful unavailable, that now seeks unmentioned ransom.

Will I be a one man show in a one act play, untuned instruments,will I find hands not full, hearts with space for a lonely traveler?

There be a warm spot next to me, waiting and wanting to be filled by she, that flower that needs a little help blossoming.

Is this wicked karma paying visits to the uninitiated who have forgotten past transgressions and unadulterated affair?

Good times indeed come and go, I guess I’m left waiting for the return, waiting for this light that shines from my heart to pierce this perfect darkness and find she who’s heart light has pierced perfect darkness.

I won’t pretend to be on bent knee waiting for she that this Earth does not know, passing season while she that this Earth does know waits for me.

No more sitting by closed window in candlelight as if waiting on payment due, I will move out to collect.

Though unavailable does not make she unlovable.

Barbed Wire Rapist

7 Jun

this may enhance your reading pleasure:

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Our grandmothers screams can still be

heard through trees and swamps and back roads,

screams that signify a fire has started.

I can still feel white hands around Black

throats, still hear white breath in Black ears,

whispering devil thoughts in demonic tongues,

useless crying in half way nights fall on

nonexistent ears.

Barbed wire rapist with razor blade fingers,

leaving genetic scars on Black wombs and Black seed,

stubborn intrusions polluting Black blood with insanity

and double cross, injuring Black minds with delay and self doubt.

Healing still not coming to our grandmothers while,

rancid, pus filled wounds are left to fester and

infect, as you stand tall as if superior to Black

people, on your infertile land, which left

infertile by your dead crops and manipulations.

You felt deviant ecstasy as you entered

Mother’s land, with swollen, pale, hate filled bayonet,

stabbing generation pon generation of Black genius and

resource, with exact precision and intent, you wanted

nothing but to inflect devastation that carry the balance forward.

Barbed wire rapist shooed husband and father

from uneasy comfort, so bringer of bondage could

continue to defile and lay waste to Black

pearls and little girls.

Full of shame and self detached, her eyes

would never meet her man’s eyes again,

while Barbed wire rapist grinned and wait for

half way night, as doors can’t lock and cowardice hates light.