do not write much
life is hard, daytime
is usually 10 hours,
a lot mouths to feed
but that ain’t what
I got a bed to write
about

somehow my woman
did some thinking,
a hefty any of scraping
and secret saving, a buck
here, spare change squeezed
from a secret budget, in a jar
very,very well hid from being
accidentally discovered and lost
to too many little exploring fingers

we’ll never wanted and needed
a cell phone, just wasn’t need
enough, when you buying so
many little shoes l, but there
she went and bit me a watch,
used, not too fancy, and made
me feel like one million dollars

this watch, ya gotta wear to
bed, no biggie, cause it’ll tell
you how ya feeling, and how
ya sleeping and if I can, find
the time, speak my poems
into it, so they get kept for
what they call posterity

this watch informed that I was
a woken man from the hours
between 1am to bout 4am,
which zi already knew but
come daylight, man birthed
three new poems, and this
even ain’t one of them

this is more of a story, bout
the who, what and a little why,
bout me, so maybe you might
just hang round and read some


that’s all for now, that **** watch
wakes me at 6 am, though my body
does it for free, I’ll be gone in thirty
with a kiss if the good women is
still asleep, and some of the kids
will be in the upper window
to wave poppa good morning and
goodbye, which is worth double,
that’s what I tell them and it gives
me the knowledge why I exist,
what my purpose be, and a chance
to pray to Gid to keep them all safe
till I get home and squeeze the living
daylights out of them with arms that
we’re made to the heavy lifting to keep
then we’ll and happy, fed and clothed,
and give me reasons to write some more