Black dirt lays on my hands
The soil that lays there is where I advance
It smells, its manure
I’m the farmer, the one, the grower
I pick a plot
Think of thoughts
Things go by in and out of my mind
I’m stuck to choose where to plant the roots of time
My time cannot be wasted
Like the soil, the dirt, I taste it
I can taste it in my feet
The ground I stand on
Perhaps I’m the plant that my life has cared for
To water, to bring sunlight, that constant care
To talk, to be there, my life to cheer on

I’m but one farmer in this world of carefree
To be or not to be, I cannot please all, so do I become the enemy?
The land of the free, from which I stand all
Planted my roots, and that I’ve prayed on
I was born here, a seed like others that were planted
I grow out of the help of others, I shouldn’t take the help for granted
Though like others I may fall on the granite…pavement, blacktop, and sidewalk
I make my own way;
Things I may say,
The things I may do

I’m not a bad person
You can tell by the view
Well maybe if you trust me
I’m no stranger than you
Overall no matter by my color
A flower is a flower
At least smell it first
Judge after…
No, why judge at all
Get to know instead of pushing away
That’s really all I’ve got to say

You never really know anyone.
Need an example? Have a stay at in the psych ward.

The girl who caught my eye
after rolling up her sleeves to paint
started to cover scars until
I showed her mine.
She wrote song lyrics on her arms
to remind her that others feel the same way.

There is solidarity.

One girl with the cute afro
and anger issues
cried after yelling at one of the other girls.
She loved to do word searches.

Who says we are in control?

The little girl who bangs her head up against the wall
to rid herself of the demons
looks adorable with her fuzzy blanket
singing along to watching Disney movies on the couch.

Anyone can be effected.

One girl who had to learn to eat again,
wouldn't let you
hate on your own body.
She could
speak 3 languages
and draw like a goddess.

We are more than our pain.

The people living under depression can crack the brightest smiles.
We wouldn’t wish these feelings on anyone-
that’s we always want to crack jokes.

Between the locked doors and gray walls,
we shared stories from days long ago,
we got excited on chicken tender day,
we ran around the gym and painted everything we could-

We are trying to heal.

Next time someone assumes
they know you, but get it all wrong, try
not to get mad,
no matter how hard you have to grind your teeth,
because you know the truth.

The truth that
you never really know anyone,
at the end of the day-
if it helps, don’t worry, nobody really knows you.

the disease of despair
gambling
suicide
hate
sadism

symptoms, not causes
of the brown blood
drained from swines'
pockets

gather up your coat
and your hat
for the primetime
event

You were so sad.

It started as waterweight, splashing around the corners of your eyes.
I could see the ocean.
You blinked once, and it was gone. I wanted to ask how come you're walking with your head down. Why are you studying the grooves in the asphalt as if it explains in some ancient text why you're dragging around your shoelaces in a cold September night.  

I wanted badly to prescribe you the medicine I remembered taking when the lips that bruised my soul became the knuckles that knocked my knees down.
I saw the universe in big ugly splotches-- purple, green, blue, spinning, spinning. You can't look me in the eye, I know.
I can't touch your cheek, I know.

But I can do this. I can write you a note that would casually show up. I can write a few sentences saying I get you-- I get you. You were alone when the collision of his skin against your temple made the ceiling dance. You were alone when you awaken one cold Sunday with laces torn around your ankles and the roses blooming on your favorite sheets. You were alone when you drove away, thinking that maybe the impact from steel to concrete wouldn't be so bad, it can't be that bad...

You were alone then. Let me tell you; You are not alone now.

I got you. I got you.

I pay great homage to my Africa
The continent of several million cultures
Roots of the Dreadlocks of Jamaica
Jambo Africa, land of the vultures
Akwaba to the Eden of Black people
Ancient Africa mother of humanity,
The world still feed at your diseased table
Oh, Africa, custodian of nature's bounty.

Mama Ebony, you've forever represented since the creation
Thy cornerstones are planted on top of Pharaoh's tomb
Oh Timbuktu, the cradle of ancient education,
Blessed is thy beautiful dark womb.
Lined with fertile dark mineral soil
Eternal volt of the Ashanti gold
Adorned with gems, smeared with oil
Yet not half of your story has been told
Volcanos fuels silently off your gas
Land of Akana, the guidance of the sun
Your Pyramid stands where it once was
Watching time and age having some fun.

IvanBrookspoetry