The Grandfather

The Frenchman couldn’t have been that tall-
given our shorter stature.
Nonetheless, heavy do we fall.
I imagine he is no more than thirty
on the other side of the world
fighting for the interests of the red, white and blue.
I wonder how he met my grandmother in ‘68.
However so, his son did not speak of him fondly.

I imagine it to be another day
in the lush, dense, humid jungles of my homeland.
The sun shines bright, beaming down on the Frenchman.
Perhaps he is on patrol
or perhaps he is laying siege
to his brothers and sisters in another life.
As the twenty year war ran its final lap,
the Frenchman could run from fate no more.

Was he caught by surprise?
Perhaps by an unsuspecting civilian,
perhaps by a mine,
perhaps by a pit of vipers,
or punji sticks spreading infection.
Or maybe by a hail of steel, copper and lead.
Was he buried among the dead?
Was his dying thought of his son?

There is only so much one could say
about a soul they never knew.

The Father

The fox stomped in the same jungles that buried his father,
carrying food and water miles so they could eat.
He shined shoes and drove taxis,
even once offering to sell himself for his weight in gold
to which grandma wasn’t having it.
He was the eldest-
the one son of two siblings.
Sacrifice was a life-long duty of his.

At my age,
he and a handful of relatives
threw themselves across the world
for a dream-
the American dream.
Atlanta was their choice.
They spent their days in a factory,
living the life his father died for.

The fox, being as sly as he is
wanted more from the fruits of life.
Like his father before him,
he learned to deal death.
Instead of bullets out of brownings
it was salt and sugar
sliced by the cards of people
paying the price for their soul.

He slung rocks like David-
the world his goliath.
He fed the streets
and they returned the favor-
thirty-thousand a week.
They traveled to Vegas to clean it.
The fox was used to dishing addiction
yet here he found his.

The glory days couldn’t shine forever
as the eagles caught up to the fox-
now likened to a dragon by the tattoo on his rear.
The eagles were not another obstacle the dragon could blow away.
Just as he had served the streets
the eagles had come to serve him
an unhearty, yet deserving meal.
RICO, ten years.

Where is the line between a man
knowing better and doing as he must?
Do we blame him?
A dog always finds his way back home
the same can be said of dragons.
His den was now North Carolina.
Nothing hatched there without his say-so.
Freedom was a privilege renewed by the eagles
so back to business
with his brothers
he went.

Somewhere along the long road of life,
the dragon found a flower.
Together, they tackled life,
eventually creating it-
first the eagle
inked on his right shoulder
then the spider
embedded into his left shoulder.

For a while,
they lived.
Not prospering
not struggling
just living-
the dragon still in his ways.
Slowly, then all at once
his world unraveled
for he lost what gave it to him.

We never truly get over things-
only learn to live with them as they are.

How does a man drown
out his sorrows
after the passing of his mother?
One day after at that.
One can only imagine
where the mind of the dragon was at.
Surely not with him-
certainly everywhere or nowhere.

The day following
he ventured into a bar.
The barkeep should’ve chosen better words.
I know not what was said
only the outcome.
The barkeep had a rearranged earlobe
and a botched nose job-
courtesy of the dragon.

The dragon was never one
to leave a job unfinished.
He returned in the night-
when the bar was empty.
Entering the establishment to make sure it was so,
he sliced his arm on the broken glass of the door.
Armed with the second amendment
he lit it up like the fourth of July.

The spider and the eagle-
no more than five and seven
perched atop the balcony
of their modest apartment.
All at once,
eagles barged into the apartment
their uniforms said “SWAT” and “FBI.”
They came for the dragon.

The dragon was checkmated.
yet wise in his defeat,
he ensured everything disappeared-
nothing to link him to his crimes.
This time,
the dragon almost won
against the eagles.
Arson, two years.

The Son

And then there was three-
the flower, the eagle and the spider.
One never truly understands the difficulties
until they see it first hand-
until they live through it.
Such is being
a single mother
of two.
It took the spider a great many years
to understand this himself
alongside reckoning with the effects
of a man
who never had a father
to show him
left from right
right from wrong.

Now of greater age-
and surely wisdom,
I see the dragon clearer-
why he does what he does
why he moves the way he does.
Some things I admire
others are parts of a man
I will never be.

Nonetheless,
I have the utmost respect
for a man who came here-
nothing to him but his last name
of which I share-
to build a better life
for him and his.

The second-coming of springtime implies
there was a first time.
What went awry?
Such is no matter for
as long as air enters the lungs,
we will begin again.

The sight and site of imperfection.
To be what it is,
edges were trimmed off
be them rough or smooth.
In such removal
is detail consequentially added?

We look into it
and it looks right back.
Is the sight of the man
in the mirror enjoyed?
Does the grandiose vision grow nearer?
Have we begun to see clearer?

Imagine yourself a marble block
just as Michaelangelo’s David once was.
There is beauty in pain as there is in growth.
We are both the sculptor and sculpture
yet this sculpture knows no sequel.
Why not perfect the details?

Alas, through reflection
we have seen ourselves.
Past, present, future unfolding
We are the summation of every slight chisel
Such has beauty to be found in it
We are beautiful.

picture me
on my deathbed
were my last words well said
have i found God
has my insatiable greed left me
have my kids, my wife

picture me
taking after my father and friends
locked in a penn again
I know a few men who’ve
never seen a cell
and never been free

picture me
if i didn’t follow my dreams
if i paid more attention
if i started yesterday
if i stopped caring, daring
how about we stop glaring?

picture me
right now, writing this piece
in hopes of finding some peace
am i 20 worried about the wrong things
what even are the right things
maybe ill find out if i write things.

you wanna dance?
my best move
is away from you.
so i figured
to dance
without two
movements anew
that’s my cue.

do i wanna dance?
some days, still
muscle memories
pull at the heel
I built new feet
for a different feel
but i dont answer
when the old song calls.

Their son sees
although with myopia
that everything is possible
in this life where they’ve given
everything.

What a waste then it would be
to not dream
as big and as far
as the stars we look up to
for I am and you are

Everything is a lot
nowhere is it not
for when meaning can be found in
everything

my experiences are
the trophies i carry with me-
the burdens of a past me i no longer know
for he is reformed.

chiseled by the sculptor in the mirror-
gain and rain make common company,
for the sun keeps shining
and so will i.

love for my brothers,
for this world and the life i lead
yet have i found it for myself
or is that a conversation i leave on the shelf?

to reflect and notice
what i neglect
is there pain in looking in the mirror
or gain in seeing clearer?

the future grows nearer.
my muscles grow
but has my mind?
a piece of mine for peace of mind.

does this appeal to the viewer?
would they rather see my victory
or the imperfect mystery of what i am
supposed to become?

everyone has a different purpose in life.
what it was
is the precursor
to what it is.

he who fears death
will never do anything
worthy of a man
who is alive.

what has been possible
has been done.
what is impossible
will be done.

practice like you never
got the chance to play
and play like
you’ve never won.

let the same hunger you had
when you had nothing
carry you through everything.

the man you’ve become?
pitfalls succumbed?
hills overcome?
with resilience

what is your heart made of?
has love unraveled?
for passion, for friends, for family
for the hope of one day

what lies in your head?
thoughts of what it was
what it is, no past
no future, only now

everything’s clicking.
embarrassment of trying and giving up
or
embarrassment of trying without giving up?

one word
faith
over fear.
danger near.

tunnel vision
im seeing the light
end of one plight but
life will be back to bite.

for now
bliss is all i know.
a piece of time
for peace for mind

death more certain than marriage
casket over carriage

now i see
that in the bellowing reflection of myself
there is nothing past myself.
for i am everything i should be
but not everything i will be.

in a time filled with nothing but noise
the silence of reflection is a gift
not to be taken for granted
granted my sight isn’t canted.

isolation for contemplation.
i speak of what i know no more
of what i show no more
but of what i know no more, i show myself

love used to clothe myself.
once upon a time,
i used to loathe myself
of the past life, the last life.

no gift like the present
no past, no future, only now

for now i can’t tell
leave that desire
at the bottom of the well
off my mind until i find

rings
rings a bell?
rings for myself
until they’re for someone else.

wealth
in health
in companionship
all to make my soul whole.

hole now filled
feelings now spilled
life’s a thrill
what doesn’t kill, tills

a mind
refined, aligned
with passion and purpose
see into the circus.

history in the making
shall we make it?
write our story?
a face to be forgotten?

memories begotten?
a heart to find saught in?
nothing or something?
love’s got a little ring to it.

just like the wedlock
got the mind in a headlock.
that’s too far ahead
let’s see it for what it is instead.

is she right to go
when her sight
sees that i ain’t been living right?
that i may not be her ideal delight?

do i let a hill
cease the thrill
of climbing the mountain
of romance? of partnership?

of what is even going on?
my mistake for not asking of
step one in everlasting.
is that what she wants? am i?

my mind swayed by
a metal prison in my pocket
on what is love?
could it be staying with one another

until we are above?
could it be
the kisses in the night?
when everything feels alright?

not that which is rife with strife,
not on a quest to find a wife,
but for the present,
of now, of you, of us.

worries of being 19 disappear.
the future is near,
but i am here,
nearing the end of the year.

what have i to show?
heartbreaks, mind aches, world quakes?
traumas from not enough commas?
that’s all faux.

so i reflect.
do i like the man in the mirror?
is my grandiose vision growing nearer?
so i suspect.

finding the light in the night
through friends helping me through my plight.
through finding checks
to help hide the train wreck.

so i look into myself to find the crash
and i find a clash
between the man i am
and the man i want to be.

for the flash or the cash
perhaps my priorities are messed up
so my soul
i clean up.

nonetheless, i still see
the blessings of not knowing
who im supposed to be
but being everything i need to be.

doing more than before.
vagrant soul no more.
greater than i’ve ever been,
but not nearly as great as i will be.

aren’t all that i need.
so I sow the beads
of my soul.
becoming someone more whole.

survived too many storms
to be concerned about raindrops.
with each,
my soul reforms.

mumzy told me,
“son, stop thinking so much.”
“your mind’ll need a crutch.”
but what do i tell my mom

when my mind is a treadmill
life is changing the speed.
life is a painting,
my eyes are the brush.

so I take it slow.
but i’ve got a picture in mind
getting mine by design,
fates intertwine.

looking for love
within myself
and to glove
Yourself.

day by day,
chiseling away,
thoughts begin to weigh
so I start to pray.

lord,
let the temptations of the night
cease to distract me from the light.
let me have no fright,
for what is coming
is a result of who im becoming.
shortcoming, overcoming,
all forthcoming.

but please forgive me
for being distracted
by the temptations of the night
that distract me while i write

the lust of the money
the head of the queen.
limerence about a love i ain’t even met
perhaps it could fly like a dove.

dreams know no more neglect
searching for a soul to connect
and a milly on a check
and “i did it.” on a text.

so as you listen to the words i write,
envision a man on on his plight,
on a path toward the light,
while being pulled into the night.

but that’s just life
a quest for a wife?
searching among profiles
carved by a knife?

searching for a soul that’s whole
so it doesn’t take a toll on mine
double headed snake
in the shape of a dollar

what’s the other one you ask?
comes in the shape of a smile
that will come to pass
but love forever lasts

all to listen to music
that makes me think
about you
and the times of two.

about what will i proceed to do
in this life of mine.
feels like i have nothing but time
but at the same time

i feel the clock ticking.
feels im doing a lot
but still not enough.
nineteen, worried about all the wrong things.

living the dream
of when i was sixteen.
the stresses of life,
limerence about a woman i ain’t even met,

anxiety about
how i’m gonna do more than last month
when it was my best month
though it was my worst month.

i suppose the cost of growth
is 50k and a heartbreak.
the question now is
how much more can my heart take?

nah i ain’t broken
but it would be remiss to say
i ain’t hurting
but who ain’t?

i ain’t
worried about it,
hurried about it,
life goes on.

sweater.
can’t sweater
love never lost
only learned to live with.

grief.
belief
that as the leaves fall
we stand tall.

break up
gotta leave the breaks up
life’s coming fast
speeding while im running out of gas.

lord i pray
your words catch me
that those who wish us ill
do not.

lord i pray my passion
is worth my pain
i pray that
your word is my fashion

the word as my sword
sweater as my shield
keep me from the cold
make all truths bold

lord i pray i maintain
in the end
i could say i gained

love? success?
what’s to bless?
someone who my heart can caress?
but i digress

in that
i don’t think ill find her where i be.
i dont know if i want her to find me.
life is a tree and im waiting to see

what have the seeds sown?
how have i grown?
am i a weeping willow?
or have my roots billowed?

father as i make more dollars than ever before
im starting to see that it’s not what im meant for.
its not the ends ive longed for
the prayers i sing songs for.

in my plight
i find the light
in that
this life is all ive wished for

friends
who comprehend the pain of
not wanting to say the same
but still being scared of the change.

lord can you throw me away on an island for a change?
so that my impulses can be neglected
isolation for contemplation
and that in me, i can find you.

but oh what a life
mumzy’s 45
smiling, happy, cause her son’s alive
doing well, still going through hell

but oh well
God willing
i woke up today
so it’ll be a better day

new girl
new world
new twirl
nah that ain’t me

it is what it is
if it’s gonna be something,
it’ll be something
or it’ll be nothing

but i know you
thinking for,
10 years down the line
take it a day at a time

but nah
you got a lot of years ahead of you
some worse you
some betta you

beautiful soul
and it ain’t even whole
healing
mind squealing

with time
what is real, resides
what is false, fades

heart wounds—
out the window,
moon looms.
darkness entombed.

moon glooms
yet there is light
paradoxical night.
checkout.

pain is beauty,
beauty in strife
beauty in life.

girl of my dreams
every dream comes to an end
days and nights grew longer.
many came and went.

wake up
return to stasis
time never wasted
love appreciated, reciprocated.

learning to live without you.
floodgates opened
beginning to swim.
can’t believe we came this far.

yesterday i found myself
conscious, smiling
around those i hold closest.
time is all we have.

What is life if not perpetual feeling?
Fading?
Return to stasis.
Chase it, pace it, face it again.

Losses, lessons, blessings.
No past, no future, only now.
Live, feel, lose yourself, find yourself.
In the end, what is left?

Live, love, let go, learn again.
For it is better to do it and fail
Then to never even try.

though distance may separate us
my heart is always running near
hoping, waiting
for come over to become come home.

although i cannot see well
i know i see you
everyday a new page
in this book of love.

there is no rhyme or reason
to this dance of life
but together, may we dance
until the song is over.