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I get it now
They think I'm you

Black
Is only the color of your skin

Black
Is not the culture you love
The people you associate with
The people you share a bed with
The people you represent

Black
Is only your name
Is only where you come from
Is what you claim around family

Black is you
Long as you are the only one
Long as-if there could be such a thing-the best one
Long as you are in charge of the rest

I am Black because Americans don't understand
An African born outside of Africa is still an African

I am Black
I am African
I love the reflection I see because it sees me

Truth be told:
I still love you
Even if you hate everything that stares back at you


© Christopher F. Brown 2017
You scare the **** out of me
I know
I've said this before

So many things
about you

just like new

So many things
about you

just like old

There is enough mystery
about you
to where I am reminded of lifetimes
before you
Them's, We's, Us'
before you

There is enough mystery
about you
to where I can not foresee how this could end

but I know that is the lie I want to
I always try to
force into being truth

I haven’t learned not to like that yet.

The cards keep giving me
moons, chariots, and wheels of faith

I just want to see the lover

It could be that
I know it’s not
you

It could be that
I want it to be
you

so I'll just leave it up to
you

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
He is Fire
Fire like mine

Fire I could have been
Fire I should have been

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

He didn’t waste time
He didn’t waste his fire

looking for love
in clubs
in gyms
on-line
Everywhere in-between

He didn’t waste time
He didn’t waste his fire

getting his heart broken
getting cheated on
deferring his dreams for a fantasy crafted by others

He let his fire shine and burn
I hid mine away
the only heat felt from mine was by proximity
the only light that shone from mine was in comparison to shadow

He would never be like me
His fire is not like mine

He is smart enough to not bother with things that would take away
He is smart enough to protect his fire from the water
He would never fall in love with it

He is
not me

His fire is
not mine

His fire is
Better

His fire is not as hot as mine
He can selectively burn with his
mine can only be contained by that which would try to destroy it

I don’t regret me
I don’t regret my fire
that is not the point

I want to protect
him
his fire

The way no one protected
me
my fire

© Christopher F. Brown 2018
Sometimes we just want to hold it
because it warms us

we can't decide
it might be bad for us
When the air's whispers are warm and the moon refuses to entertain

we can't decide
it might be good for us
When the wind carries chills and the sun searches for its shadow

we take it
into ourselves
knowing the potential harm
wanting the promised help

Sometimes we just want to hold it
because it warms us

©Christopher F. Brown 2016
Trump ******* us all
but did he really?

The South followed suit on its promise
Yet the heartland had a change

We would like to say:
“He doesn’t represent America.”
But doesn’t he?

Profit above all is the capitalist credo

Racism: to divide the people and keep them disorganized
Sexism: to divide the people and keep them disorganized
Xenophobia: to divide the people and keep them disorganized

Hasn’t that always been the American way
Keep the neighbors distracted with one another
Keep the neighbors fighting one another
While you rob them blind
And their children
And their children’s children
And . . .

Trump speaks
For those that see government only as a tool for furthering business

Trump speaks
For those that were born into a position of privilege
For those that find it offensive when their privilege is pointed out
For those that can construct legalese so their privilege can never be denied

Trump speaks
For those that believe something determined by genetic or socio/politico/economico construction
Not effort of their own
Imbues them with divine right
Imbues them with heaven’s mantel
Imbues them with a destiny that is their burden to make manifest

Trump ******* us all
Trump doesn’t speak for America

Historically
Morally

Doesn’t he?

© Christopher F. Brown 2017
On the planet where I live
gambling and narcissism
are recognized for the diseases they are

racism and homophobia
that's just people being people

Here
having a conversation with some is battle
mental exhibition bouts with jaw juggernauts
most only listen for their position to pounce
Never hearing a thing

favors and helping hands
well laid traps and plans sewing deeply rooted weeds
intended to bind over time
your worth is assessed by how much value you can acquire for other

animals are measured greater than people
it makes sense
People have yet to meet or even be human

Here
I'm not the type of Blackman you see on TV

six feet tall maybe taller over three hundred pounds
a well-read autodidact master of many things

On the planet where I live
that is considered a threat

Here
the goal is to populate Mars
before the pollution on Earth becomes inhospitable
to the people of Earth
after all
Mars is ours for the taking

Here
you're supposed to mow your neighbor's lawn
while your back yard is overgrown
while your kitchen burns down

On the planet where I live
all of this is common knowledge
some say sense
It's spoken of and considered
immoral and deplorable

Here
if you exist in any different or other way
you're labeled
one of the crazies and shunned
you’re supposed to know its wrong
not admit to it



© Christopher F. Brown 2015
In this world
Weeds are worshiped as beautiful
Roses are cast to compost as a vulgarity

In this world
Worms matter the most
consuming roses
one of their favorite past times
one of their favorite foods

The greater the ****’s ability
to choke the rose
the greater the ****’s glory

In this world
Roses are hated
especially their thorns.


©Christopher F. Brown 2015
There once was this universe that only existed in the memory of it's Creator
Named after the Creator's cousin
Early on by the inhabitants of the universe

To its Creator
It only existed 5 or 10 minutes

To its its inhabitants
Time and space
Lasted long enough for them to directly communicate with that which created them

All manor of experience
All types of existence
Was present there

Science discovered Magic as Magic welcomed Science home

When this universe came to an end
Its Creator created a thing that universe had never seen
The creator's creation disturbed the peace and shattered the balance
The Creator's creation was a selfish and ego filled thing.

The creator created a being whose purpose was
be everything
the creator had never seen
Be everything
the creator never had

A being whose only purpose was
do nothing else and only this:

Love the creator like it had never been loved

Doing this warped and then shattered the universe.



© Christopher F. Brown 2017
what is it about writers
we put words to emotions
to experience
to life

life others are afraid to acknowledge
maybe

experience others may have had
Or have not had
maybe

emotions others have equally laid with
possibly more
maybe

words are vehicles

writers speak not of the contraption that brings about motion
a writer speaks of the navigator that discerns direction

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
You think because your skin is wrinkle and blemish free
you have achieved a great feat of life

being thirty
or forty
or fifty-three
looking 23 ***

The last book you read
was only done so that you can name
the last book you read

Your soul is as paper thin
as is your skin

hold on
yes
your shell, vehicle, vessel
and its drapings, anointings, adornings
are very beautiful

you do know that
none of that at all
is actually you

your body fat percentage and credit score
is as important to you
as the birth of your children
as the day of your first wedding
as the day of your second divorce

hold on
yes I'm calling you shallow

hold on
no I'm not saying that I'm better

I will say at least
what I do
I do because it has a purpose
I do because it has a meaning

I know that lives are more important than taxes and their brackets
I know that you do not stay
just because of what others might say if you go

What you do is because. . .
What you believe is because. . .
Right down to the very words you choose

why do you do anything that you do

that’s right
go ahead and say it

© Christopher F. Brown 2015
I want to know more than one
Haitian

I want to know more than three
Jamaicans

I want to meet Nigerians that speak
Igbo

Kenyans that laugh at the Swahili I learned in Berkeley
Ugandans that correct my Mandarin
Tanzanians that teach me how to say it in Cantonese  

I want to tour the holy city Ile-Ife
trace the pilgrimage path of Mansa Musa
then circle back to Timbuktu

See the reminders of Aksum
See the remainders of Kmt

Touch the Earth and envision the buildings that my ancestors constructed
thousands of years before they were invaded thousands of times
leaving the still standing walls that others never believed were thousands of years old
till their, “science” said so

I want to board a barge in the south and flow north with the Nile
I wonder what eight others will join me

I want to walk the same trail
that was the first trail
compare my foot print
to the first foot print

The vision I see
The things I want to do
The escape I want to take

Isnt one that is new

Its one that is old
so old that its in the blood
in the very fabric and design
of all that claim

Human

What I want is a realization
no
a reawakening
of my genetic inheritance
of my ancestral birthright

What calls me is the land so old
its true name
its original tongue
is the only
can only
be labeled

The First

There
that is what calls to me
There
that is what pushes me
that is the very intangible force that pulsates my heart
pumping the blood through my veins

That place that is forever older than old
yet
In a constant state of
Reconstruction
Recreation
Revelation
Renovation
Revitalization­

Revolution

I want to breath the air in that place that is always in a state of newness
I want to feel the frequency in that place
where there are as many words for new
as there are people to speak them

That is the place
That is the space
That is

© Christopher F. Brown 2015
I don't know if it was me
maybe it was them
It could be me
You should never rule that possibility out

my peers and I

we really didn't relate until our late thirties
maybe forties

Even now
as they did then
they say I'm a crazy fool

What is crazy
the same things they said I was crazy for
10, 20 years ago
I see them walking hand in hand with now

Claiming the crazy thing as their own new born precious truth
birthed from their own life trials and tribulations
spawned from their own hard fought and barely survived experiences

What I was foolish for
Is valuable and teachable wisdom now

Maybe I was always old
Maybe the world just went crazy long ago
and I was just crazy enough to see it
ride the wave as it were

I think when we're all in our sixties
they'll get what I'm talking about now
I hope I'm not dead by then


© Christopher F. Brown 2017
Poetry, Christopher F. Brown, Brown Dress Shoes, a1abwriter.wordpress.com
“You wanna go to the crystal shop with me?
  Maybe some coffee?”

First things we said

Buying matching bullhorns
for later


I’ll show you how to wrap sage
leaves
You can show me how to build
a fire

Lucky
Blessed
Charmed
Happy

We didn’t have to wait
long


We’ll make a pact


We’ll promise to grow old
Side by side
We know we’re already
Dead

This was the first time
We understood


Oui



© Christopher F. Brown 2017
Shouting
In places where people try to force them
Not to hear

Quiet
In places where people try to force them
Not to listen

**** them
Set them free
Watch them fly wild

They are indigo, X, and Y
They are naturally Tech savvy and more intune with all that is natural
They are everything but what they know they want to be

**** them
Set them free
Watch them fly wild

Love

Love has never been one of their considerations
They have never bothered with the fantasy
They were born knowing
Grew tall and mighty watching

No one ever loves a genius child

**** them
Set them free
Watch them fly wild.


© Christopher F. Brown 2016
If I ever become famous
I want to tell you

The Oakland that raised me
has changed

Its spirit is still the same
but
its body
its composition
-or at least the parts I knew-
are irrevocably different
from what I knew

The house that my grandmother lived in

for over 30 years

was fashioned to four bedroom
800k
two-story cottage
never mind the generations worth we had their already

Something similar happened to the homes my aunts lived in
Something similar happened to the homes my friend’s aunts lived in

The once cozy and comfy street corners in the
Black Neighborhood
began to be filled with **** attics asking for food and money
pulling fat bloated dogs behind them.

The once cozy comfy street corners in the
Black Neighborhood
that use to be outposts for Muslims selling newspapers and bean pies
turned to base settlements for those in need that had the cleverest sign

They tell me now that I’m from

“Old Oakland”

The smells from the Granny Goose and Mother’s cookie’s factories
still fills Stonehearst’s playground when I dream that of a time gone by


Old Oaklanders Remember

When you could hop on the bus and get a hotlink from Flints
We Remember taking the BART to the colosseum station and seeing
Our Mural
on hallowed ground.
Panthers, Politicians, and everyday People
Reflecting Us
By Us

That’s gone now

Across the street is the
New Mural
on capitalist ground
Patriotic Propaganda
Reflecting someone miles away
By someone that’s just getting paid

There is even a shuttle that takes you directly to the airport now
No more interacting with the locals

Old Oaklanders Remember

When Raiders moved to LA
We welcomed them back
Now they are moving to LV
Its an Oakland thing
you wouldn’t understand


The New Oakland wants to Fight The Old Oakland
Its want to take Laney away
(a small part it says)
and build
The New A’s Stadium

The Small Part it wants isn’t Big enough
to do the new thing they want to do
Us Old Oaklanders know how this goes
the small little part
for the new little thing
gets bigger and bigger until all

The Old is Gone


If I ever become famous
I want to tell you

The place that manufactured the mold of my making is under new management
Even the surrounding areas have transformed


Downtown Berkley once had a cornucopia of bookstores with blocks of one another
Crystal and smoke shops
mom and pop knickknack shops that sold real Ethiopian coffee
40 year old pen shops
30 year old record shops

All gone

They have restaurants now

The strip of Telegraph or University where you could once see
Rockers with 8 inch spiky green Mohawks
Getting high with
Burnt out hippies
and Keeping the peace and spreading the love with
North Oakland Generals

has all been replaced

Conservative A type international students studying
STEM or accounting and finance that all
“hate it here”
But want to make a lot of money
and will when they are done
and will make more when they build their empire back home

That is the Downtown Berkeley you see.

If I ever become famous
and someone goes looking about the places where my feet traveled
and the body of my youth laid
I want to tell you

You wont find it

“Old Oakland”

Only exists in the hearts of the Old Oaklanders
Living in parts far and wide

They have even stopped calling North Oakland
North Oakland

Now its

Temescal,
Some far reach of Emeryville
or even a direction of Berkeley

but its not
Its Oakland

And it will always be Oakland




© Christopher F. Brown 2017
These days
Adam Worlock is my best friend

He knew I never was
what they call
a bad guy

He knows what it was like for gods and kings
When we go for love
we go hard

He could see
more than anyone in the universe
I knew and know
myself

Its not about being cocky
Its about doing and being me

I cant say that about my friend

He needs to examine his
self
examine his personal issues
Instead of pretending like they don’t exist
The day will come when they want to fight him.
Hes going to be kinda stuck

But that’s what best friends are for

These days
I'm out of that love game
no more future ex’s
no more making ex’s current

I'm  reading and writing a few books
getting back to meditating
Might even plant a garden

©Christopher F. Brown 2016
The so called, “***** Spiritual”
invented on hot fields of cotton and tobacco
birthed of blood, whips, and sweat
tears served no purpose.

The, “Blues”
came with freedom
that wasn’t really free
that could be taken at a moment’s notice
that wasn’t guaranteed
only those that were actually
free
could even understand
could even care

“Jazz”
Jazz is funny
Jazz came into the world
smiling
in the rain.

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
How could you look at a plant and call it equal
If you can't even look at the animal and do so

How could you look at a animal And call it equal
If you can't even look like at the female and do so

How could you look at the female and call her equal
If you can't even look at one other than one And do so

desperately seeking other
can not handle same

Truth has always been
So lies became

How could you expect me
You don't even respect you

we are not
we should not
be visually same

the internal is already so
the truth is already so

I can not extend in full to him
What he does not
What he will not
comprehend

He denies self
even to self

What is a seed of love worth to those whom work hate

How can they see me
as anything but other
when they are totally blind
to self
to same

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
Disregard is Disrespect

I don’t have a responsibility
but because I feel one
I do

Let my voice and words be enough
if they are not
Let my deeds and actions be enough
if they are not

I will sacrifice:
my blood, my sweat, my tears
to try and make you understand
or at least comprehend

I am different from you
not that I am trying

I am the same as you
not that I am trying

Your definition of me and those that seem to be like me
is secondary maybe even tertiary

What matters is
the explanation of me as i interpret to you
just as
the explanation of you as you interpret to me

I am human as you
because
I AM


© Christopher F. Brown 2016
You've found that hole in your soul
Nothing fills it

The smallest things
Seem smaller

The largest things
Seem smaller still

Why won't anything fit
Why won't anything fill

You've found that hole in your soul
Nothing fits it

Its not like its a predator
The things it consumes
You've already forgotten about

Silently it exist
Taking only what you've sacrificed through neglect
Taking only what you've left to languish

It would be better if it was a hunter
If it was taking
Then you could remember
Then you could


© Christopher F. Brown 2018
Some place quiet
peaceful

Preferably
I would like to
Walk
Or maybe
Ride a bike there

If I have to drive
I think too many people might know about it
It has already become too popular
Its purpose
The reason I would have went there
has already been defeated

I’m not trying to give an impression of exclusivity

Sometimes

I just want to be alone

In a place where
I can take a book
Read for hours
I can take a pen and note book
Maybe my laptop
Write for days

I’d bring my headphones
Or
Listen to nature’s symphony
A radio would be too much
Too loud
Not something I would want to carry

I won’t do what I did to my last one
One became two
Two became a few
A few
For me
Became too many

I won’t tell anyone
Ill just leave a note,

Gone fishing

Be back
Sometime between
Now and Then


©Christopher F. Brown 2012

Technorati Tags: Fishing Hole,poetry,Christopher F. Brown,cfbrown.com
5000 years ago
the shamans and the medicine workers looked into the fire

they saw me and you
you and I
They saw us

They called us gods

smoking cigarettes
They thought we breathed fire

getting in and out of cars, trains, and planes
They thought we could move between the realms of living and dead

using computers,
watching tv,
talking on cellphones
They thought limit was the thing not within our understanding

the fire of the future showed them
what they thought were gods
they couldn't hear our flaws
They couldn't smell our decay

Through the fire
They saw gods

in the mirror
most only see rot

in the mirror
most can't see past misplaced shame.

ⓒ Christopher F. Brown  2015
For Dana

Woman
Sister
Mother

No matter the title or label
None fully define that which is
You

That which is
Dana

Studying your hands I’ve learned
all things are possible
even though you make them seem effortless

Studying your soul I’ve learned
true strength is limitless and unmatched

Studying your arms I’ve learned
true love is unconditional

Thank you Dana
for being the first woman in my life

Thank you Bennie
for being the first sister in my life

Thank you Ma
for being my one and only
Mother

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
when the war is over
what then

there is no road that leads back to
before

we pin all of our hopes and fears
on this
future
that has yet to be determined
But has already been paid for completely

in blood
in tears
in regret and sorrow

when the war is over
what then

only a few manage to escape the past
until we war again

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
in between shadows
the sounds of quiet in the night
riding the backs of afternoon breezes
caressing the cold outsides of windows

existing as someone
other
Something
other

only in touch
only in sound

a hand on the back of a neck
its not there
pressure and heat compressed against lips
its not there
memories of fragrances navigating auras  
They are not there

fires by moonlight
rivers deep beneath earthen floors

lingering far beyond the time
the time to begone

It's over
still
It's not done

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
I’ve met my soulmate
A few times now

- Maybe more-

Only in this life time though


I met him once in his past life
He spoke Portuguese
I only thought in Kiswahili  

Once I met him when I realized
Past and future lives are really just extensions of the one you live
presently

Once

-a few really-
Which cause me more sorrow than anything
Not at all the confusion past and negative everyone elses said I should have

He was a she

Because of my soulmate
I learned that,

“Love at first sight”

Is just a literary device

Because of my soulmate
I learned that,

“Happily Every After”

Only exist in the land of make believe.


© Christopher F. Brown 2017
Delusional
By years
By fears

We now say
Concerned

We fear not
We worry not

Why then are we
Concerned

Are we Delusional

Should we now say
Misunderstood
Misguided

Intentionally avoiding reality
Labeling it something: other
Labeling it something: manageable

Something

As it is not
Even though that
Is


© Christopher F. Brown 2018
Is it really this hard
to find people I can go back and forth in discussion with
about Buddhist and Hindu theology compared and contrasted against Christian and Yoruba

I want to scream and shout and dance with somebody over Janet Jackson's new album
and at the same time
feel the heat and talk with somebody about how extremely sad and depressing
but oh so good Giovanni's Room was

I want to be able to speak with somebody whom can quote Malcolm X and Kafka in the same breath

Somebody who could see the logic of Pac and Immortal Technique on the same piece
with the Budos Band or Mulatu on the back track

I want to know people whom know
just exactly who
Suki Lee and Bayard Rustin are

can we talk about Jacob Kinohoor's ***
at least for a moment
then get into some B.B. King or Johnny Cash

have you seen Dune
the one from the eighties
James McAvoy shirtless
as well as John Goodman’s acting
were only good things about the other
if you read it
even better

what about the ***** that sat by the door
Or
killer clowns from outer space

let's be shady and point out all the inaccuracies on the history and discovery and channels
praying for that day
that's not in February
They show Shaka Zulu in full
without commercial interruption

Or maybe a documentary about native American people
with actual native actors
that do not depict them all as either
plains people
Or Inuit
Cause you already know
not everybody is Eskimo

then let's put on our own private production of legally blonde
followed by encore presentations of the classic scene
Of Miss Celie and miss Ofelia going in over Harpo

can I discuss with you
how the Patriot act nullifies everything in constitution
And the bill of rights
even though they never were intended to be permanent any way

It would be nice to not have to explain a Corporatocracy

all my life Ive been into Egyptology
You do know that Imhotep was the actual founder of medicine
by a good 2000 years
not that Hippocrat

the thing is
I'm still learning

when attempt to delve that deeply into people
which I don't even consider that deep
They often misunderstand
They often concluded without thinking

maybe
just maybe

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
Never been to Mars
Never allowed myself to loiter
On A street I did not belong

Seems Ive only ever met
The many multitudes of grown boys
children really
Claiming to be men

They are good for
Were good for
Childish things

What else can a child do but think of games
What else can a child do but play
What else should a child do but think of themselves

I think I'd like to go to Mars
Hell
Maybe even the Moon

Any place

Seems like it would be better than this street I live on
It sometimes seems like an adult playground
All the children around here
Pretending
Pretentious

Never seen Mars
Maybe the Moon

© Christopher F. Brown 2018
Maybe I was just supposed to meet you
The -ship we have
I forced upon us
Upon you

When I step away
You remain still
When I stop
You fade away

This was me this whole time?
That doesn't matter now!
It is early, still...

Magicians are:
Rulers of destiny Masters of will
Their fate is theirs to determine
through their own power

Magicians are never in love

Love obeys no command
Love is stronger than...
Love is more important than one could ever be
Love hates magicians


© Christopher F. Brown 2018
You think you can define me
Your name must be Webster

Blanket statements

I have more than one gear
Multiple settings
Complex configurations

They are not for you to
Tamper and tinker
With

They’d be simple
If you asked
They’d be simple
If I told

You assume much
Based on
No observation
No study
No inquiry

You assume much
Based on
Someone else

I continue to
Do and be
Me

While you remain confused
Surprised by my actions
Baffled by my words
Perplex by my expression

Since you won’t ask
Since you assume you already know
Ill only say

You never saw me
You only assumed you did
You never heard me
You only assumed you did


You never knew me
You only assumed you did

©Christopher F. Brown 2012

Technorati Tags: I was never here,you assumed I was,poetry,Christopher F. Brown,cfbrown.com
I’m not here to make you feel comfortable, safe, or secure
I’m not here to give a ****, a like, or a ****

I am here because I am
Whatever that means that is up to me
you don’t get to Define any part of that or me

You don’t get to stumble across my path looking down at screens
Then feel, mad, sad, or whatever way you feel when I will not be moved

I am here because I am
Whatever understanding I gain it’s through my study in solitude or syndicate
You don’t get to instruct or borrow from any part of my lesson(s)

© Christopher F. Brown 2018
I am not theoretical

I exist here
I am here

hold my hands
they are meant to touch
whisper in my ears
they are meant to hear

Words could not hurt my heart
if it were theory
My mouth would only speak pleasantries
if it were theory

Reality is my home

Beyond pages of books
lines of code

I am here
I exist here

I am not theoretical

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
you are a sacred space

art
all art

is a reflection of environment
environment inside
environment outside

you are a sacred space

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
I suppose
If I were better with words
a wordsmith maybe
I could describe the sound

Crafted and carved wood against brass would be like
the first rain
falling upon a parched window

keys once made of ivory and mahogany
sound as footsteps on old and cracked city sidewalk pavement
some mostly young ones dance
avoiding the life persevering through said cracks
respecting
recognizing
seeing
the same youth in the life carving a path for their own roots
as they are told of their own

The older ones
take a moment to be still
to hold a note
to hold their breath
to feel the vibration
enjoy life
until the note has passed

How could one explain the voice of a bass

Maybe

It is the rumble of a trolley
the heft of the slow moving train
the uneasy but understood movement of the subway platform as it is arriving
but has not stopped.

the depth of its pitch causes feet to be ears
one’s chest becomes a resonating chamber

The chirps
The caws
The song of the metal birds
nothing quite like it

Words mimic the notes
vocals mime the tone
but
the horns

they fly

If I were better with words
I could tell you what Jazz sounds like

still

I don’t think I would

The words and melody are already there
for interpretation
for explanation
all I could really do is give you more

No

I wouldnt even if I could tell you about Jazz
instead
id say one word


© Christopher F. Brown 2013
That feeling you get

when you wake up to rain in the middle of June.


You can get rid of the people that make feel this way but

You cant stop the rain
You could move but be serious


There will always come a day when

When you wake up to rain in the middle of June


Smile hard
be the sun


© Christopher F. Brown 2017
They say,
"America loves a winner."

I ask,
"Why doesn't America like Serena?"

They say,
"America loves an underdog?"

I ask,
"Why doesn't America like Serena?"

They say,
"America loves a good fight and fighter."

I say,
"I already know why but would you,
America,
ever admit
Just once.

You know what,

Nevermind."

© Christopher F. Brown 2015
I turned it off

When I found out
Physical form meant more than
spiritual substance

When I found out that
Age matters when you have too much
Looks when you don’t have a certain one

When they meant something different
something estranged from my previous understanding

I know my body is not me
only a part

they wanted that part
without wanting only me

I turned it off

They all wanted something much less
far cheaper
than I am willing
was willing
to give

You do not understand the meaning when I say
you are beautiful

Namaste
Ashe
Amen

I turned it off

You are not able to fathom a comprehension when I say
I love you

Namaste
Ashe
Amen

I turned it off

Life has instructed
give it to self always
to the ones called family
the select few that are called friend

Show it to the world
but don’t let the world abuse it

But in that concentrated way
where two become one

I turned it off

Its disrespectful to the concept
for me to treat you according to the concept
when I  see
when I know
before it all started
before your scent first touched the air
you have no awareness of the concept

There are about six degrees of separation from
what you think it is
what you thought it was
what you have been shown it to be
what you attempt to offer me
and that which it actually is

that which I was willing to offer you

I don’t believe there is a single one
there is the one you make it work with

That one
must also be willing and able to make it work with
you

For now
for me
you don’t exist

I realize now
you never did
square pegs forced into round holes
mistakes all listed above

I turned it off

Only a truly naked self
has any right
any ability
any authority

to turn it on.

© Christopher F. Brown 2013
What if
Brothas and Sistas in Oakland and Richmond
Got together

They poison Richmond's air
Just like
They poison Oakland's water

Every Body from Oakland has a cousin in Texas
Or Louisiana
Or Haiti
Or Atlanta

Just like

Every Body from Richmond has a cousin in Mississippi
Or Alabama
Or Jamaica
Or Tennessee

Why dont
Brothas and Sistas in Oakland and Richmond
Get together

What would that look like politically
What would that look like Economically
What would that look like spiritually

For as long as the decades i can remember
Its been a problem

For as many years have passed now
I've been saying to as many as will listen that i pass

Its been a set up.


© Christopher F. Brown 2017
Objectified Self

Warfare
the only thing you bring to me

You challenge my thoughts
You force my feelings
You invoke my emotions

I have to create contingency plans
Because of you

I have to keep a distance
Because of you

Because of You
I
have to rearrange too much of Me

I cant **** you

I can only war with you
the only thing you bring to me


© Christopher F. Brown 2018
If you are going to love a dreamer

You can not be controlling
You can not be manipulative

their spirit
their passion
would be sacrificed
because of their love for you
because of their love of you

it would be because of you
love ultimately fermented into resent and hate
dreams turned to nightmares at the very mention of your existence

You can not be weak
You can not be moveable

Their fire
their vision
would juggernaut the mightiest of the weary
tears shed in the quiet of the dark
desires whispered in the secret of shadows
would never be known to them

The dreamer is Blind
not deaf
not dumb

If you are going to love a dreamer

You must be courageous
You must be adventurous

To love a dreamer is to bed risk
To love a dreamer is to set a permanent place for gamble
the acknowledgement of chance
the acceptance of failure

Loving a dreamer is to know
the only place of honor
is not with them
is with the dream

Loving a dreamer is to know
the only pedestal
is not for them
is reserved for the dream

Loving a dreamer is to know
they will love you
position their lives around you
but their purpose
their only purpose
is the dream

© Christopher F. Brown 2015
What I lack in
Monetary means
You
By far
Lack in depth of soul

Your mind is filled with emptiness
Who slapped whom
On that (so called) reality show
How to tell
Real designer labels
From
Fake designer labels

The possessor of everything new
Until a newer one comes out
Regardless if the old new one
still
works just fine

The finer things in life are always expensive
The worth of a man is ALWAYS told by their clothes
Or
The car they drive
Or
The neighborhood they live in

Shhhh

Don’t say this out loud

Even
The darkness of their skin
Or the region their grandparents came in

Yes you
You’ll be young forever
As long as modern medicine can help it

Yes you
You’ll be forever in
As long as you keep company with a certain type of crowd
Agree with the thoughts of a certain few that claim you as
But not really
Kin

Loved by many
You are
Hated by more than what you think are few
You are

What about you

If and when you ever
Seek reflection
Look for me

Sincerely
You

The you
You forgot about

The you
That got you there

The you
That you left here

The you
That keeps you up at night

You

I am
But
I don’t think you’ll understand

You

Haven’t been

Me

In a long time

If you saw
me
I wonder
Would you recognize
All that you try to hide
All that is

You

©Christopher F. Brown 2012

Technorati Tags: Shallow’s Love Letter,cfbrown.com,poetry,christopher f. brown
life recognizes life

energy recognizes energy
universal inhabitant recognizes universal inhabitant
planetary inhabitant recognizes planetary inhabitant
plant recognizes plant
flesh recognizes flesh
animal recognizes animal
group recognizes group

self recognizes self

too many are stuck in place
its a circle
there is no place to begin
just begin
there is no place to end
its a circle

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
It's been awhile since I've liked anything
New

Pac died

One of the Krazies turned Christian
The sickest of the sickmade is laying in a hospital bed.
They made a movie about nwa
And it made hella money
made me laugh

I remember when they banned them from the radio.
I remember when I had to sneak and listen to my sister's tape
the technique of the immortal one remains strong

On a cloud I called grown
I meditated with my blackness
had relations with the blues
made love to R&B;
accepted Jazz as my personal musical savoir.

still

I never forgot
my first
love

I never fell out of love with
my first
love

yet

everything new
except a few
was just *******

then one day
high up
floating on that grown cloud
I got confused.
I knew what I saw but
I dint know they made sound
One day

I heard a butterfly


© Christopher F. Brown 2015
I am not done yet
I have not passed on

My back may hurt
it still moves

The sloth in my movement may be caused by pain
Id rather feel pain than not feel

My heart may be tough and leathery
it is not cold
it is not stone

My laughs are deeper
longer

My love is harder
stronger

When I do speak
it is often low

there is no need to shout
there is no need to comment on everything
every thing is not my concern

What I have
now
is knowledge

What I know
now
is how to filter information


© Christopher F. Brown 2018
When you look in the mirror

know

It is not yourself that you see
you are not the image
reflected and cast upon the jaded glass

what you see is light

captured by the eyes
interpreted by the mind
processed by the soul

if any of those three are not right
neither will correctly understand
the image
reflected and cast upon the jaded glass

you are not what you think you see

you are light reflected

everything else
jaded glass

©Christopher F. Brown 2013
subjective mirror, poetry, christopher f. brownn
I'm ****** that I once thought
maybe

you were, in my eyes
worth every
sun
moon
and star

In yours
non existent

invisible like radiation
indivisible from the magnitude of the void

I'm ****** that you use to shine
so brightly
causing my eyes to look your way

Siren song
was your voice to my ears

Ambrosia
was the thought of you
your image upon my mind

Moses
was your form to my lips

Now I am here

Othello
seeking not your death but my own

Knowing it was not a trick
it always was what it was

you were never liken to Desdemona
you were always my personal Iago

You remind me that I’ve never known you

That is the pain and comfort

The closest ive come to knowing you
Reminds me of the most pain
Summer clouds in the desert

some hope
ive come to question your existence

You and I know
you’ll yield no rain

You are a reminder of intangibility

There may come a day when it rains
hell even snows
in the desert

but until then
you are not hope

you are a mirage.

©Christopher f. Brown 2013
Rap was my first love
Rap will always hold my fire

Hip Hop will always have my heart
Hip Hop will always be the one I come home too

We started together
Even when she is on some *******
Mumbling around town with technicolor hair
Crunch berry grills
looking like a cartoon villain
I get it

Rock was cool
sometimes we all need to scream
need to be sad and different
sometimes we don’t need words
just a guitar
just a bass
just a drum

It’s a funny thing to say:

The Blues made me laugh
laugh hard too
That’s why she said she left me
she said she was done.

I got so lost in Jazz
When I thought I left I realized
I’m still here

When I thought I had seen all that there is to see
When I thought I rounded the final corner
It turned out to be a street named Lombard  
The light shone on me in notes of blue
With the blessing of The Sun and Ra

I realized
off beat is the beat

Jazz
She’s like Hip Hop
I may go away
but I’ll never leave.


© Christopher F. Brown 2018
I still think about you

stupid right
I know

but
you know what
for once

Its not about you


© Christopher F. Brown 2015
The African American
has had their time
has had their place

They have bled out every drop of blood
They have emptied every duct purposed for tear

They have broken
every bone
constructed and combined to form a back

The African American
has long dreamt dreams
days yet to come
days gone by

The African American has to awaken to their reality
The African American has to die to their fantasy

We are:

Africans
in
America

Africans
in
The Diaspora

Africans
We
Are

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
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