Untitled...

A little boy came in from school one day and asked his father, "Dad, why is it that when I am awake someone else half way around the world is sleeping?" His dad looked into his big brown eyes and saw just how puzzled the boy was. And instead of giving him the same lecture as his teacher, he used this moment as a life lesson.

"Son, when you are awake there are always other people sleeping; when you are working, there are those at play; when you see people that seem to be enjoying the things that you desire, I want you to understand that there is always a time and a place for everything."

Love (Haiku)

It's freezing outside
Dawn masks the true temperature
Walking out sans coat

Infinity

Reverent whispers
that travel light years
to cover me and
rekindle confidence when
isolation breeds uncertainty
you coerce me to defy
conventionality

your words wrap me tight
I'll give in to the idea of
someone knowing
loving
accepting
me and
my withered dreams
that often tend fade as
everyday strife gets in the way

You've seen my vulnerabilities
and yet you still
Dagger and cloak me in poetry
007 recipes make for
mission possible to
grasp the intangible
colloquial thoughts
get lost in
never ending stanza affairs

And in the middle of the night
to sounds of Anita Baker
I outline my Angel
in stars
and number the days
in which you have been my
backbone
distant ear
napkin to the tears
that stained my journey
I recall how
you peeled back
deposits from past hurts
and always had the right words
It was the sweetest
silence
titanium
indestructible in the
subtle form
like
an inspiration for a poem
or
Take a deep breath 'cause it'll be okay
and
smile on a crowded train for no reason
maybe
stop to appreciate a sculpture that I pass by everyday
and
gentle nudges toward my destiny
...yeah
a giggle with a head bow here and there
the reminder of innocence before tragedy
hearing the sound of a love song with just the right words
for the very first time

I replay it over and over...
Shall We Dance?

Hands of Time

Been a while since we
done this

I mean slipped 'tween
the hands of time like
no one noticed

Stopped the clock
while our heartbeats
cheated eternity
wrapped our minds in
Divinity
And ceased the moment
while we
Watched the time
fall
back

Back to a place where life was
about the creative crevices at
4am

illuminated by the computer screen
we composed portraits of
fictitious love affairs
bound by the possibilities and desires
of unrequited present prisons
Inmates of our own bad choices
we chose to underground railroad to
the North Star of cyberspace
where the daily responsibilities
were tucked in
unhindered by the panting of keys
molesting sensual paragraphs
that would sustain us until the
next stanza

yeah it's been a while

but every now and again
I invoke those prose that
nurtured me like The Nile
And I smile at the moon
recalling that dark place
wondering if you are okay
my release date was before yours
And I'm sure you
look out of your lone window
wondering where did this kinship go

But
it is
still
here

You can still
summon the chorus of the love song
co-write destiny
I hear the lady singing the blues in the distance
And I yearn to dance
A Capella
to the morning Dew
I still remember we
Weeping over celestial vibes
exercising our carpels to
a Sweet Serenity
See
my pen still
seeks to
Make beautiful music
with you

Not Just For Colored Girls Only

Both Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry have recently tagged teamed America with candid discussions about sexual abuse victims and its effects on society and the social patterns of dysfunction that occurs as a result.

Winfrey, in her 25th and final season of her show got together with Perry, who produced, wrote and directed “For Colored Girls” to air a three-part series on men who were survivors of sexual abuse. In the first part, Perry told of his experiences. Winfrey then assembled 200 men in her studio audience to express their feelings about being abused. The last part of the series brought these men together with their spouses, mothers or partners for a broader discussion.

The movie “For Colored Girls” was a riveting display of Perry bringing to life Ntozake Shange’s chromeopoem, For Colored Girls who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf. I have read the mixed reviews, but I hold firm that Perry creatively singled out each of the character’s experiences and skillfully weaved together monologues, tensions and plot to end the movie in an imagery likened to the beginning stages of healing.

Adding all of this to a recent finding that 72 percent of African American’s are born to unwed mothers found within the context of a colleague’s blog, I was left mulling over the idea of the state of relationships in Black America in general.

What I saw in the movie, watching the Oprah shows and Kirsten West Savali’s blog was a need for healing and genuine love and compassion.

I saw easily how viewers of the Perry’s movie could walk away hating men. I also saw from the shows how this negative behavior from men could be perpetuated in a society that views masculinity as something void of hurts, insecurities, pains and fears and frustrations—no different from the women in the movie. I also saw from blog comments how a thought can be misunderstood as a negative gesture. There are some experiences universal to all of us. But we, as black men, are not conditioned to talk about these painful pasts and are left to wreak havoc on the greater of society and in our homes.

Our children suffer the most.

Black men are just as hurt as black women and together we breed a youth that deals with some of the present-day situations like a reckless disregard for authority, lack of hope, no knowledge of their past and a desire to want to inflict the same hurt that was inflicted on them. We have forgotten to speak to each other in passing with a real greeting or acknowledgment. Hello’s and good morning’s are absent. Communities are deteriorating.

I can only speak as a black man; therefore, I speak to the black experience. It can be a rather frustrating, lonely and confusing world without being sexually abused as a child; or dealing any kind of abuse, but factor all of that into that dark history and you’ll find that healing is not just for colored girls only, but for all of the colored people who have considered suicide.

Irraplaceable

She abandons me
mid-spring leaves me to
frolic in the summer breeze
allows me to feel life without her
and then she calls me
again
The second the temp drops to a subtle chill
she reminds me of how no other human's core temp
could ever attempt to warm me as
Autumn gives a sneak peak into Chicago's winter
She summons my attention
again
right before winter's grasp and
the glitter from snowflakes dance on the lake
she wants me to reminisce
again
of how we share untold secrets that she carries to the grave
and of how others just hear the words but
she interprets my rhythm like a jazz standard
She calls me melancholy when others say mean
she wants to syncopate
again
The eternal ebb and flow
the constant transition in which yin and yang
are truly never in harmony
so in the summer of my life
she gives me freedom to be
but when times get hard and
the weather drops a few degrees
she's there with a gentle nudge to remind me
again
of just how irreplaceable she is

Train up a child

Last week I posted a Facebook status update:
"I think I'm sold. It's been a while, but I think I found a new church."

For those of you who know me, you know that I have struggled with religion and spirituality, often confusing them both. That led to much frustration.

I have never been content to just follow the masses blindly. I have never just went with the flow, never been content with the answer "because I said so."

As a child, I often left church on Sundays wondering why I was forced to come. I couldn't grasp the same concept of the congregation. I didn't know why my great grandmother would shout loudly. I did not know what the fuss was about. I had nothing in common with these old ladies and men. I couldn't understand why this was so important to my father.

On top of that angst, I have dealt with other emotional issues tied to past experiences. So much anger, disappointment, bitterness, rejection and every possible human emotion that flutters in the kaleidoscope of life. I felt guilty for questioning the traditional religion of my origins.I was considered a rebel, troubled and disturbed.

I rejected it all. I vowed that when I got older I would never return.

"Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it."--Proverbs 22:6

Through a formal education, a sense of African American history and life I began to understand the black experience in regards to social justice. It was in those days of slavery when the safest place was the church. During the days after it was there where we could cry out for help and have a sense of reassurance for the days ahead. It was in the desolation and despair we took comfort in knowing there was a God who loved us.

"Just live a lil longer," my father would tell me.

Life became my teacher. It was in those desperate times where I found myself retreating to the pages of a Bible wondering "from whence cometh my help." When I was alone sinking in a sea of depression, I often fell to my knees asking for help. And when life just seemed to move me away from everyone I thought loved me, I heard myself crying out.

I have discovered on my journey that it is often a matter of paying attention to what Paulo Coelho calls the Language of universe. I have also discovered that even at my lowest point there were others just like me, searching for some lost piece of ourselves amid so much uncertainty.

"Teaching them to observe all things whatever I have commanded you: and, see, I am with you always, even to the end of the world. Amen."--Matthew 28:20

He covered me through my own mistakes, against my own will.

And if this is all true, then it would not be far fetched that I would end up at the very place I started.

I share this as a confirmation to all those who have ever prayed for me, saw a calling, wanted to keep me from danger, felt me struggling with emotional issues and wondered how I would turn out. This is also part of my testimony.

"The word of the LORD came to me, saying, before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations."--Jeremiah 1:4-5

Yesterday, standing in a sea of diversity and praise, listening to Pastor John F. Hannah for the second time, I realized all that I have survived was not of my own accord, but that Jesus had predestined this moment of clarity. The tears of forgiveness from anything that anyone had ever done that I perceived as wrong
streamed down my face. I went through what I went through because I was supposed to go through it. And now that it is over and I am in one piece. I can rejoice in the tradition of my ancestors and kin long ago.

"Now the Lord is that Spirit: and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty."--2 Corithians 3:17

Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I have a new life covenant!