I never thought I’d see the day when I would agnise the depths of my desire.

Ingrained in every cell; the swell of emotion
ebbs and flows into each passing day
like the waves we’re all familiar with.
A calling card;
reminding me of the expectation of love,
the anticipation of hope,
and the abuse of obstinacy.

I learn from it everyday.
Paying respect and gratitude as tuition for the lesson called ‘life.’
Freshman year, every year.

Can’t complete the puzzle even when all of the pieces fit.
There is meaning in this.
Sometimes, I wish it wasn’t so.
But I can’t pursue it alone, so I won’t.
“If it can be realised, let it be so when the universe wants it”, is my escape.
But there is no escaping yourself.
You are the universe and it is you.

It has never felt like it wasn’t meant to be.
It has never been like it wasn’t supposed to.
Maybe one day it will manifest again.
Or perhaps fade like all beautiful, fleeting, moments.

You won’t catch me chasing something that doesn’t want to be caught.
You’ll see me walking the other way.
You’ll see my aura welcome it.
And you’ll see me turn around to embrace it with every fibre of my being.
But only if it wants the same things as I do.

If it doesn’t, that’s okay, too.

Ya Know...
I’m Now Grateful For...
A Number of Things...

Because Life Can Be Raw...
And Provide Bad Stings...

But What I Now See...
Is That Adversities...
In This Life Can Breed...

An... Ability...
To Stand Strong And Be...
A Soul That Can Deal With Reality...

So I’m Grateful For The Sickness...
That Took My Mother’s Fitness...

NOT Because It Made Her Sick... !!!
But Simply... Because of THIS...

Because Multiple Sclerosis...
ISN’T Something Bogus...
Like All of These New P.O.T.U.S... !!!
And Did Help Me To Focus...
On Loving Her Much More...
Than Any Car Made By Lotus... !!!

I’m Grateful For That...
As I Am For Attacks...
That I’ve Had Cos’ I’m Black...
That Have Thickened My Skin...
So That I Do Not Sink...
Into Fighting With Fists...
When It Comes To Racists... !!!

I’m Grateful That I THINK...
And Can Lyrically Hit...
These Fools Like A Brick...
With My Use of Logic...
That Makes Them Think Twice...
Before Choosing To Fight... !!!

And That Also Is Why...
I’m Grateful That I...
Am A VERY TALL Guy... !!!

Because Weak Minds Subside...
When They Look In The Sky...
And Recognise That...
A Big Virge Attack...
May Well Lay Them Flat... !!!

So I’m Grateful To Dad...
And To Mum For The Fact...
That They Worked To Feed Me...
So That I’d Always Eat...
And Not See Plates EMPTY...

So Could Grow Physically...
To Become A Strong Breed... !!!

And I’m Grateful For More...
Than My Words Can Explore...
About Parental Chores...
That My Parents Absorbed...
Even When They Did War... !!!

I’m Grateful To Girls...
Who Felt That Big Virge...
Should Be Part of Their World...

So Then DID Take Their Turn...
To Love And Touch Nerves...
That Made Us Undress...
And Indulge In Some ***... !!!

As I Am To Those Chicks...
Who Chose To Resist...
A Kiss of My Lips...

Because They Chose To Think...
That I Wasn’t Good Looking...
Or Worthy of Booking...
A Night With My ****...

Because Many of Them...
That I Wanted To Bed...
Have Proven To Be...
Stupid Girls With Problems... !!!

Who Were Basically Tricks...
Who’ve Messed Up Their Kids...
Who Have Now Aged In Ways...
That Have Proven That They...
May Have Been A Good Lay...
But Mostly Had No Brain... !!!

I’m So Grateful Yes GRATEFUL...
That Those Who Placed Labels …
And Told Themselves Fables...
Whose Minds Were Unstable...

Were Never Those Willing...
To... Eat At My Table... !!!

Or Treat Me Like Guys...
Who Eventually Told...
These Girlies Goodbye...
In Ways That Were Cold... !!!

Cos’ It Just Goes To Show...
That Young ***** That Glitters...
Seem To Be Those of **’s...
Who Sell Holes And Get Bitter...
When They Become Old... !!

So I’m Grateful To Those...
Who Chose To Say... NO... !!!

Because Wisdom Has Shown...
That Many DON’T KNOW... !?!
What It Is To Find Love...
Or To Recognise That...
Their Beauty Will Crack...
And They’ll Likely Get Shunned...

Because... As We Age...
We Need Something MORE...
Than... Good Looks To Make...
Relationships Walk...
Their Way Past Divorce... !!!

I’m Grateful That I...
Have United With Guys...
Whose Creative Vibes...
Have Moulded With Rhymes...
That I Took Time To Write...

Because Some Sound Nice...
And Have Been Heard Worldwide
By People Who’ve Liked...
What We Chose To Provide...

So I’m Grateful To Those...
Who’ve Listened To Flows...
And Musical Tones...
As Well As Bass Lines...
Now Put To My Rhymes...
That They’ve Said That They Liked... !!!

And Am Grateful To Minds...
Who Chose To... Criticise...

Because It’s NOT Wise...
To Let Arrogance Ride...
Due To Talents You Have...

So I AM GRATEFUL That... !!!

I Do Have One Or Two...
That I Have Learned To Use...
Through Verse That Shares Views...
About Things I’ve Been Through...
And How This World Now Moves...

The Future’s Looking Bleak...
Big Tech And Disease...
And CONTROLS Running Free...

And Humans Now Fuelled...
By Protesting And Crews...
Divided By Feuds...
As Well As Fake News...

Now That Things Are Askew...
And A Word I WON’T Use...

My Life Has Now Proved...
That I’ve Been Lucky To...

Have Parents Who Were COOL... !!!
Who... DID NOT ABUSE...
Their Boy Who Has Now...
Become A GROWN MAN... !!!

Who Through This Life Has Found...
That It’s Good To Give Thanks...

So This Set of Words...
Are A Few That Confirm...

That No Matter What Life...
Makes Us Have To Go Though...

Whether Negative Or Positive...

APPRECIATE It’s GIFTS...
And Be Thankful And Give...

What We Call......

.... “ GRATITUDE “....

The dough is molten at oven spring,
like a prayer to the historicity of things ..

Have we not imagined yesterdays
in the ritual of bread ? While our pasts

lay embezzled, on the tongues of men, the
sentiment of centuries colluded in germ,

echoing through heirloom remembrances
those floury philosophies of change.

While I stretch dough to gaze past
a windowpane, as far back as Khorasan ..

they were other names then, another
elasticity in time. Faith is a memory

of settled people in lands of milk and
honey, where every drought, every flood

spawns a new religion .. and the wheat,
always begs the same old question:

Are we there yet, in the fertile crescent
of opportunity ? The grains haven't changed

in their stolid countenance - long, subtle,
germy, cosseted. In the granaries of kings ..

they are willed by royal decree, never to die
in an eternal future and like humankind,

who score bread in the cuneiform of hearts,
grain is always thirsting to seed the land.

Contemplation is like fishing.
Often my reason fails me
and I cast out into the waters
hoping I can catch that vital energy
feel its power, its resistance, its strength
that is elusive
but I know is there
and those moments of connection
with that mysterious force
give me energy.
I am alive
so I keep castings into the ocean
knowing the elan is there,
the verve that takes me from my mind
to dance, to move, to swerve
in that moment of now.

Author’s Note: I bow in gratitude to Brian McLaren and Barbara A. Holmes for their wisdom that inspired this poem and kneel in awe and thanksgiving to all the fish I have caught over the years, for the excitement and nourishment – the life they gave me.

Crawling in the streets, lacking confidence
Driving past the rusted street signs, dead-ends
Running from the law, without defense
Lost in a city blinded with dust and sin
A country haunted by broken promises

So why does my heart beat faster?
When do I rush past the guns shoved in our ribs?
Why does your intimidation weaken my knees?
Don't grab me by my hair in the town square
Just take my life away in a heartbeat, I can't take it

I can hear my heart, balancing a fine line
Between courage and trust, all faith in Allah
You taught me how to fight a war like a general
With the world, as I fought with my adolescent self
It's a balancing act that most ******* funambulists fail

With ****** in my veins, I killed myself twice
A million ways you could've brought vindication
And saved us from violation and intimidation
Sheltered us from lunacy, terrorism, and vice
All we have is broken promises and crime around me

The feeling of fear meeting someone for the first time
the delight looking at a little child playing
near ecstasy smelling a magnolia blossom
a secure feeling upon seeing Pampas Grass.

The unsafe feeling being with the blonde man
who had been nothing but kind to me
then… finally I remembered
the sandy-haired boy who made an object of me
at age seven behind the barn on a summer day.

So much of the self is hidden
chaining me to the old
keeping me in a caterpillar state
stumbling over chunks of earth
ignorant of what can happen
in the cocoon.

But learning, writing, remembering
can make me a Monarch
flying into spring.