You watch too much tv…

I am not what you see.. on

cop dramas…Or

reality shows…or even… at this point...

B E T

I don’t use

“is” in inappropriate places

Nor do I finish sentences with prepositional phrases

Such as “who you is?” or “Where my coat at?”

I don’t do elaborate handshakes

I don’t work my neck

I don’t purse my lips… constantly sneer… or

“go off” at the drop of a hat

I do walk with quiet dignity… and

Shake off your devilish ways with God given grace

I do have a life… a peaceful “unbroken” place to go home to

Hence the serenity that you see on my face

Leaving you nonplussed-

That I have no desire to be you… and

You find yourself… trying to bond by

Putting the word “be”

Where no “be” should be… cuz you’re

Trying too hard to understand me…

And I

Wear this faint professional smile.. though my eyes do not

Which (as an aside) you don’t even see

Use all of my vowels and consonants

Never acknowledge any flirtatious compliments

As I render unto Caesar what Caesar’s should be… and

Escape to my loves…And

read something… or

grow something… or

learn something…

Now that’s the me that I don’t mind if you see… but

You’re not interested in THAT reality… cuz

It would wreck your notions preconceived…

So I've concluded... by your manners… or the lack thereof… that

You obviously just watch too much tv



.

What I cannot find… but am determined… to get back to…

Is not to be confused with

Flavor…

Like hot sauce or vanilla… which can be found at any market…

No…

What I seem to have misplaced is

My Flava

Spelled F-L-A-V-A

And is one of a kind… gifted to me only…

Not to be confused with any other FLAVA

Cuz it is mine…

And without it…

Can barely string a sentence together… and am lost…

As from this springs my issue… and

Without my issue… just don’t know…

Whether to rhyme or to flow…

Wax melodic or staccato…

Iambic pentameter to coax you to

Come with / me and / be my / love…No- wait...

That’s not it at all-

Have no need of

You being my love… or loving my being…

Which is where FLAVA comes in…

Cuz FLAVA don’t give a ****…

Flava just is…

Unlike consciousness…

Or the awareness of one’s own

Existence…that just wants not to be a

Casualty… and die with the other dead ones…

Who were (by the way) dead long before they

Resigned themselves to undertake the responsibility

Of laying the hell down…

But FLAVA…

FLAVA cannot die… so

I know it’s there… it’s just…

Hiding subliminally…

Under some old debris…

Beneath the ruins of what used to be me…and

When I find it…will then add some FLAVOR

(not to be confused with FLAVA)

…sprinkle some Cayenne Pepper… make it even HOTTER

…fold in some Cinnamon… make it even SEXIER… and

Stir and season…

‘til it feels like ME again…

One of a kind FLAVA…

Gifted to me only…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is mine…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is me…

Gotta get back to me…

.

What I cannot find… but am determined… to get back to…

Is not to be confused with

Flavor…

Like hot sauce or vanilla… which can be found at any market…

No…

What I seem to have misplaced is

My Flava

Spelled F-L-A-V-A

And is one of a kind… gifted to me only…

Not to be confused with any other FLAVA

Cuz it is mine…

And without it…

Can barely string a sentence together… and am lost…

As from this springs my issue… and

Without my issue… just don’t know…

Whether to rhyme or to flow…

Wax melodic or staccato…

Iambic pentameter to coax you to

Come with / me and / and be / my love…No- wait...

That’s not it at all-

Have no need of

You being my love… or loving my being…

Which is where FLAVA comes in…

Cuz FLAVA don’t give a ****…

Flava just is…

Unlike consciousness…

Or the awareness of one’s own

Existence…that just wants not to be a

Casualty… and die with the other dead ones…

Who were (by the way) dead long before they

Resigned themselves to undertake the responsibility

Of laying the hell down…

But FLAVA…

FLAVA cannot die… so

I know it’s there… it’s just…

Hiding subliminally…

Under some old debris…

Beneath the ruins of what used to be me…and

When I find it…will then add some FLAVOR

(not to be confused with FLAVA)

…sprinkle some Cayenne Pepper… make it even HOTTER

…fold in some Cinnamon… make it even SEXIER… and

Continue to season…

‘til it feels like ME again…

One of a kind FLAVA…

Gifted to me only…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is mine…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is me…

Gotta get back to me…

.

Don’t want to reach up

To that dusty shelf

In the locked closet of my mind

And pull it all out

Blow it off

look at it and analyze

figure out the hows and whys

Hell no

I won’t go

Don’t shrink my head…



Don’t want my head shrunk

Leave it big like it is

Let the mess stay

repressed

Or if one prefers…

suppressed

Better left un-

expressed

Maybe I’ll be

depressed

but oh well…

Time will tell…

Don’t shrink my head

For the last few months
At least twice a week
It was…
I gotta go do this for him
I needta go and cook for him
I needta call him…
Then life got in the way

Now he’s gone… the way of
So many others before him… and
As the years go by there are more of them
We look at all the Slides… and
Pics and videos
And laugh or cry…
Long for days gone by
Enough to make me shake my head
And say…

If I had to do it all again
I would do things differently
I would live life… always…
On purpose… cuz
Not one second is promised
No time to waste
Give every thing
To every day…

If that still small voice says
Cook for them or hug them
I will fry up whatever the hell there is…
Wrap my arms around them
Say "I love you" if I love them…
No time…
To be too busy
Or too angry or too prideful
Or too sleepy… I can sleep when I’m dead
When they’ll be putting ME away…

But until then… and
While I’m vertical…
With
No chance to do it over…
No chance to do it all again…
I pound my fist on the table…
With the other over this bruised heart… and
Make this vow today…

Going forward I WILL do things differently
I will live life… always…
On Purpose… cuz
Not one second is promised
Can’t let these fleeting moments get away
Don’t wait until later…or tomorrow…
Yesterday’s tomorrow… is today…

I left you today…

It’s over…

I’m DONE!

MOVED OUT!

In a spring shower’s end

on foot…

Walkin’ Hard and Fast

Down a dampened street

(Workin’ my neck even…)

Lookin’ crazy…

Talkin’ to myself… bout **** I don’t hafta take

Out loud

(Low down and SELFISH!)

I can FIND me somebody ELSE to drive me cross country to see my mama

(I can’t STAND him!)

I can FIND me somebody ELSE to help me take down my weave

(Makes me SICK…!)

I can FIND me somebody ELSE

To rub lotion on my back… and

To sing me silly songs… and

To make love to me… and

To rub my feet

To rub my feet

Somebody else to rub my feet… like you do…

And…  I will too…

I will…

Just right now…

My feet do ache a little… and

I need to show you

This new umbrella I bought

Busy people…
Oh so busy people….
You step real hard when you walk real fast
With your busy scowls on your busy faces
Making busy wrinkles in your busy forehead
From thinking all those
Wondrous… and
Special…
Busy thoughts…

**** sho too busy to
Make small talk… or
Ask about… or
Even be pleasant to
Us regular people…
Oh so busy…
Would make an old man wait for 6 hours
For the answer to a 5 minute question…

Cuz you busy…

Too busy to even answer the phone
Especially…  If you know who’s callin’…
Sho too busy…Way too busy…
To answer
For the likes of me… or even him… cuz
That’s not what you busy people do…
We should all
Just be happy
To have your
Wondrous… and
Special… and
Busy self
To be
Ignored by

But Oh Mr. Busy…
One day…
Mayhap…
You will look up from your busy-ness… and
Find that there are
No more some bodies
To step past real hard… or
To dismiss… as unimportant
With your busy scowl and busy wrinkled forehead
No more callers
To  ignore… or un-pleasantries to share
Cuz you,  yourself,  have gotten
Unpleasantly old
And every body else

Is just too busy…