It was spring when the old things get cleared away
and I opened a drawer that was mostly closed now;
in the back was a ring of keys I hadn't touched forever
because the doors they opened were gone.

My first car, a castoff from my father we used in high school
to go to practice, or for hamburgers, or to the movies
in a time when that was the most fun we could have.
I see the boys now, smiling and singing songs you never hear anymore.

The key to my the apartment I had going to school, a little place
I shared with Jimmy Redd just off campus where we
drank, caroused and learned how to cook hamburger helper
between working and going to class.

The key to my first office and the house I bought where
some of my kids lived and I had a future
that was wasted by trusting people whose most important
love was in the mirror every morning

Then there were no keys for years when I could not unlock
the doors I lived behind in places where
the only comfort was a date yet to come as I waited
and the world turned without me, changing everything

Which turned out to be for the best
For the last unused key was to my first home after leaving high school
the place love became real and where the missing part
of me had been waiting through her own trials.

I smiled and held the keys tight then put them back into the drawer
they are not useless as I thought
because the doors they open are those I will
always be able to enter.

I can take a punch
an insult
a offense
but my life makes no sense.

I can handle heartbreak
but loneliness I can not take
7 billion humans on earth
and solitude is my fate.

why did I grow up so fast?
to have responsibilities beat my ***.
why did I skip class?
to only cheat life and still come in last.
why did I rush my youth?
only my childhood knows the truth.

I see life in grey,
Where black does not stand alone without white,
Where the melanin of my skin does not factor as to how society sees me,
Where Mother’s language that rolls from my tongue is never labeled.


The only struggle I should face is between the relationships
I try to mount
...between pen and paper
…between my head and my heart.
Where common sense should trump any and every stereotype,
Where the only thing foreign is the knowledge I am yet to acquire,
Or the journeys I am yet to trudge upon.


Borne of the soil that bears some of the greatest fruits,
I am one of Her many blessings,
An Afrikan princess that is still rising to her majestic throne,
That seeks to reign over a land united
Behind the death of the rainbow;
The rebirth of decolonialism.
And casts all children of the corn of these chains,
Golden bronze bonds
That continue to enslave the people of true liberty, and prosperity.
The liberty that ascertains that no man shall ever be consumed
By their hunger for superiority.

For

I AM because WE ARE!

This man in the mirror, who is he?
I stare and stare, but I don’t see me,
I don’t see happiness, joy, success,
I see a failure, a wreck, a mess!

This feeble being, this waste of space,
He looks familiar, we share a face,
How dare he try to look like me,
This can’t be right, just let me be!

This reflection I see, is this who I am?
A worthless being?  A total sham?
Has my life boiled down to this?
A failure staring into the abyss?

I must stay focused, I must stay strong,
This coward in the mirror, just doesn’t belong,
But he just stares back, eyes filled with hate,
As if his will, he wishes to sate.

This man I see, the enemy within,
His role it seems, send me to ruin,
I can’t back down, I must fight back,
To get this worthless life back on track.

I must show strength, I’ll stand and fight,
To find my way in this darkest night,
This face is mine, let the battle begin,
This reflection I see, this bitter man, I’ll start with him!

© Cinco Espiritus Creation

The priest puts his trust
In martyrs and miracles
Clutching his rosary and his celibacy
To his bursting breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day

The ***** puts her trust
In bordellos and bodies
Clutching her money and her condoms
To her brassy breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day

The lawyer puts his trust
In regulations and rules
Clutching his charters and his decrees
To his dusty breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day

We each put our trust
In roles and rituals
Clutching convention and convenience
To our timid *******
So humanity continues to walk
Through a series of self-made cages
Every day

                 By Phil Roberts