ball and chain…

scavengers of young souls

the game was always
to get inside of your head
turn myths into doubts
self imposed limitations 
stronger than the chains they forged

 

 

no bed sheets…

no bed sheets

poverty’s child
alone
sleeping on a bare bed
as days
turned
into years
a man 
friendly with people
still
sleeping
on
a bare bed

 

 

holding my breath under water…

holding my breath under water

never learned
to
swim
but
pretended
would crawl
underwater
until
needing
to stand
for
fresh air
then
submerge again
crawling
until
the water got
too
deep
that’s when
i’d
turn around
and
head
for
the shores
society
had
defined
as
safe
for
my
race
and
class
of
existence
pretty much
like
much
of
my life’s
journey
and
extent
of
my freedom

schooling…

child
you gots to learn
to be
proper
none of that
street talk
and
don’t you dare
use none of those
swear words
lord knows
i’ve tried 
to
teach you
some manners
but
you’re always
fooling around
trying to be
so cute
and
clever
i’m telling you
for
your own good
you
gots
to learn
to be
proper
otherwise
black folks
are going
to treat you
like
they’re
white

there must be something wrong..

that clock
on
the wall
doesn’t seem
to
move
at all
i’ve been sitting here
for
an eternity
listening
and watching
that
clock
on the wall
and
it hasn’t moved
one
quarter
of
an inch
while
the out pouring of words
seems
quite
disproportionate
to
the
time that passed
i’ve swung
my feet
in every possible direction
while
posed
upon
this pew
and
been told
by
mom
to
just
sit still
until
the sermons
done
but
it seems to me
he’s attempting
to
recreate
what god
took
six days
to
do
why can’t
we
just
cut to the chase
and
get
to that final
amen