I mourned the loss of US that died suddenly...
Lowered the flag to half mast
Rent my clothes
Donned sack cloth and ashes
Covered the mirrors with black satin… and
Lovingly prepared green bean casserole and pound cake
Gifted  it to and comforted and assured
myself… that
everything’s gonna be alright…
Offered to myself
Condolences
Which I graciously accepted
yes…
US will be missed
yes…
US was so nice
No…
I didn’t even know that US was sick… and
I mourn US that died suddenly
But not for too long…
After a respectable period of time
****** the satin off of my mirrors
To better see me twirl in my hot red dress
After I lean in… and kiss myself
Throw the green bean casserole out… cuz I hate it
Eat all the pound cake… cuz I love it
Laugh out loud… cuz I am
Comforted and assured… that
Everything’s gonna be alright… and then
…Raise and Let My Free Flag Fly!

Without effort… not even trying… I used to see poems everywhere…

While sitting in my yard of a summer eve… there were poems in the sway of trees… and in the flight of the hummingbird… and in mother cat and her babies … and little girls holding intense conversations… and kids chasing dogs and dogs chasing kids… and little boys ***** from a hard day's play big-eyed and determined to talk to me…

poems… everywhere…

While standing on the bus stop in the hood… there were poems in the kitchen smells calling to me from each little house… and in the swagger of them in training talking loud and testing the waters of manhood… and in the tired face of the tired old woman who should mostly likely have been retired just trying to make it home one plodding step at a time…

poems… everywhere…

Then too much death and illness and suffering… clogged my flow…

So…

I had to make a conscious effort…  to SEE again.. so that I wouldn’t die myself… of obstruction of the expression gate… or collapse from a deficiency of thought originality… or succumb to an overdose of banality… or break down under the weight of too much…ORDINARY

It was hard… but it had to be done… and a poet like me does not give in… a poet like me
can’t help but SEE… eventually…so I looked and I looked…  with an eye toward the esoteric… an eye toward the eclectic… and the beauty... and the color… and it’s working… I’m getting there… I’m getting there… I’m starting to see… though while not… EVERYWHERE… I once again thank The Creator who flows through me that… I do see …

poems ALMOST everywhere…

You watch too much tv…

I am not what you see.. on

cop dramas…Or

reality shows…or even… at this point...

B E T

I don’t use

“is” in inappropriate places

Nor do I finish sentences with prepositional phrases

Such as “who you is?” or “Where my coat at?”

I don’t do elaborate handshakes

I don’t work my neck

I don’t purse my lips… constantly sneer… or

“go off” at the drop of a hat

I do walk with quiet dignity… and

Shake off your devilish ways with God given grace

I do have a life… a peaceful “unbroken” place to go home to

Hence the serenity that you see on my face

Leaving you nonplussed-

That I have no desire to be you… and

You find yourself… trying to bond by

Putting the word “be”

Where no “be” should be… cuz you’re

Trying too hard to understand me…

And I

Wear this faint professional smile.. though my eyes do not

Which (as an aside) you don’t even see

Use all of my vowels and consonants

Never acknowledge any flirtatious compliments

As I render unto Caesar what Caesar’s should be… and

Escape to my loves…And

read something… or

grow something… or

learn something…

Now that’s the me that I don’t mind if you see… but

You’re not interested in THAT reality… cuz

It would wreck your notions preconceived…

So I've concluded... by your manners… or the lack thereof… that

You obviously just watch too much tv



.

What I cannot find… but am determined… to get back to…

Is not to be confused with

Flavor…

Like hot sauce or vanilla… which can be found at any market…

No…

What I seem to have misplaced is

My Flava

Spelled F-L-A-V-A

And is one of a kind… gifted to me only…

Not to be confused with any other FLAVA

Cuz it is mine…

And without it…

Can barely string a sentence together… and am lost…

As from this springs my issue… and

Without my issue… just don’t know…

Whether to rhyme or to flow…

Wax melodic or staccato…

Iambic pentameter to coax you to

Come with / me and / be my / love…No- wait...

That’s not it at all-

Have no need of

You being my love… or loving my being…

Which is where FLAVA comes in…

Cuz FLAVA don’t give a ****…

Flava just is…

Unlike consciousness…

Or the awareness of one’s own

Existence…that just wants not to be a

Casualty… and die with the other dead ones…

Who were (by the way) dead long before they

Resigned themselves to undertake the responsibility

Of laying the hell down…

But FLAVA…

FLAVA cannot die… so

I know it’s there… it’s just…

Hiding subliminally…

Under some old debris…

Beneath the ruins of what used to be me…and

When I find it…will then add some FLAVOR

(not to be confused with FLAVA)

…sprinkle some Cayenne Pepper… make it even HOTTER

…fold in some Cinnamon… make it even SEXIER… and

Stir and season…

‘til it feels like ME again…

One of a kind FLAVA…

Gifted to me only…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is mine…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is me…

Gotta get back to me…

.

What I cannot find… but am determined… to get back to…

Is not to be confused with

Flavor…

Like hot sauce or vanilla… which can be found at any market…

No…

What I seem to have misplaced is

My Flava

Spelled F-L-A-V-A

And is one of a kind… gifted to me only…

Not to be confused with any other FLAVA

Cuz it is mine…

And without it…

Can barely string a sentence together… and am lost…

As from this springs my issue… and

Without my issue… just don’t know…

Whether to rhyme or to flow…

Wax melodic or staccato…

Iambic pentameter to coax you to

Come with / me and / and be / my love…No- wait...

That’s not it at all-

Have no need of

You being my love… or loving my being…

Which is where FLAVA comes in…

Cuz FLAVA don’t give a ****…

Flava just is…

Unlike consciousness…

Or the awareness of one’s own

Existence…that just wants not to be a

Casualty… and die with the other dead ones…

Who were (by the way) dead long before they

Resigned themselves to undertake the responsibility

Of laying the hell down…

But FLAVA…

FLAVA cannot die… so

I know it’s there… it’s just…

Hiding subliminally…

Under some old debris…

Beneath the ruins of what used to be me…and

When I find it…will then add some FLAVOR

(not to be confused with FLAVA)

…sprinkle some Cayenne Pepper… make it even HOTTER

…fold in some Cinnamon… make it even SEXIER… and

Continue to season…

‘til it feels like ME again…

One of a kind FLAVA…

Gifted to me only…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is mine…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is me…

Gotta get back to me…

.

Don’t want to reach up

To that dusty shelf

In the locked closet of my mind

And pull it all out

Blow it off

look at it and analyze

figure out the hows and whys

Hell no

I won’t go

Don’t shrink my head…



Don’t want my head shrunk

Leave it big like it is

Let the mess stay

repressed

Or if one prefers…

suppressed

Better left un-

expressed

Maybe I’ll be

depressed

but oh well…

Time will tell…

Don’t shrink my head

For the last few months
At least twice a week
It was…
I gotta go do this for him
I needta go and cook for him
I needta call him…
Then life got in the way

Now he’s gone… the way of
So many others before him… and
As the years go by there are more of them
We look at all the Slides… and
Pics and videos
And laugh or cry…
Long for days gone by
Enough to make me shake my head
And say…

If I had to do it all again
I would do things differently
I would live life… always…
On purpose… cuz
Not one second is promised
No time to waste
Give every thing
To every day…

If that still small voice says
Cook for them or hug them
I will fry up whatever the hell there is…
Wrap my arms around them
Say "I love you" if I love them…
No time…
To be too busy
Or too angry or too prideful
Or too sleepy… I can sleep when I’m dead
When they’ll be putting ME away…

But until then… and
While I’m vertical…
With
No chance to do it over…
No chance to do it all again…
I pound my fist on the table…
With the other over this bruised heart… and
Make this vow today…

Going forward I WILL do things differently
I will live life… always…
On Purpose… cuz
Not one second is promised
Can’t let these fleeting moments get away
Don’t wait until later…or tomorrow…
Yesterday’s tomorrow… is today…