Inspiring is
  the perfection of her approaching form
By every measure
  the epitome of classic beauty

Beguiling is
  her countenance so fair
Thousands of ships
  launch in her wake

Captivating is
  the outline of her femininity
Every line and curve
  arousing in me unquenchable desires

Overwhelming is
  the appearance of one so lovely
My senses and spirit
  soar to her grace

For when my eyes behold her physical image
  it conveys to me the essence I recognize to be her

When he returned from Vietnam
it was in part, not whole.
Something akin to jungle rot
has seeped into his soul.

He was not fit for steady work
or the company of man, and
in his dreams lurked demons
only liquor could withstand.

The streets of San Diego
are more hospitable as most.
You'll find him sleeping on the grass
in the Corps of the lost hopes.

His final battle rages here,
more desperate than in Nam.
this veteran fights for dignity
in a cold, uncaring land.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

It's not easy.
We want our daughters to be women that respect themselves.
We want our sons to be men that want their freedom, that respect their women.
I remember in my social problems class two suburban white kids fixed their mouths to say
"Parents don't give them enough attention"
Well, what exactly can a mother do once her child leaves the house?
Once they step foot into reality they are their own person.
My mother has raised a son, and I swear it was the hardest years of her life.
She warned him, she punished him, she helped him, she medicated him, she isolated him, she nursed him, she wrote him, she visited him.
A mothers love can only go so far.
She wondered where she went wrong when she handled everything perfectly, but she never gave up on him.
But it's hard for a woman to raise a man, when all the men around him have been in the same situations he's tempted by, and somehow they've all lived to tell the tale.
The streets have a hold on our black men.
And as much as we want them to learn to love their lives, they never know until its taken away by a bullet or a sentencing.

Sometimes it pays to be hurt,
To suffer a broken heart
To be shut out of light
To cry through a long night.
Sometimes it pays to fail,
To suffer the ignominy of defeat
To be left with a broken sail
To make a glorious retreat.
Sometimes it pays to know,
From the endless race you ran,
Though suffering many a blow,
You emerged a stronger man.

My grief was ugly,
Like a black tar.
So foul that I shut it away,
In a dark room within me.
Letting it dry and shrivel,
Hoping it would die.

But through my ears
Flowing to every nerve
Came our song.
The one I was avoiding.
My veins drowned in sadness
That spread like a fire,
At the echo of that beat.

The music filtered through
A maze of rooms.
Reaching the grief,
And with one intake of breath
The door unlocked.
My grief was freed.
Releasing into my blood,
As I'd feared, like a poison.

My heart felt the pain instantly
In one fell swoop.
The familiar notes
Were a bittersweet release.

I tried to sing but
No sound came out.
Overwhelmed.
All I could do was cry to our song
And pray for the grief to leave me.
Like you did.