#WriteFree365 – Day 261: Do You Remember When

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(Spotify does it again.  Something about band grooves with no words.  Day 261…)

This is a jazz groove by The Crusaders.

“Really?”
He said with a puzzled smile on your face
And I
Knowing him so well
Understand I have much clout in his mind because of who I am.

This isn’t a tale in which
He had to be there too understand the gravity of the events I recall
Since they’ve had opportunity to happen again
And have yet to happen again
The magnitude is as tangible as turning on Headline News

Then
Like kids tend to do
He asked a question more poignant than he realized
“Why haven’t we had a second Black President?”

#WriteFree365 – Day 260: Sad Songs (Say So Much)

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(This is the beginning of something that I’m sure I’ll polish later.  Day 260…)

Turn them on.  Turn them on.  Turn on those sad songs…

I’m not sad.
I’m not crying through my pen
Today
But here I am
Reveling in a medley of tears
Wondering why I love being caught in the rain
I’ve stopped carrying an umbrella years ago

I’m not enjoying their pain
I’m enjoying how even pain is beautiful.
I can hear the needle stitching their skin
Tattoos are amazing
But tattoos are still wounds
I..
They…
We…brand our skin
Because sometimes it hurts to write
But it’s a necessary pain
Maybe that’s why

#WriteFree365 – Day 259: Time [You're Getting Old(er)]

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(One of those times where I feel I harnessed the power meant to be unlocked through this challenge.  Day 259…)

Time waits for nothing.  And everything’s gonna take its time…

Signs you’re getting older.
Feel free to number.

Though you’ve never stopped learning
But the wealth of knowledge attained
Becomes the bankroll for allowance for future generations
Even if you’ve yet to provide a seed of your own.
You find yourself offering pocket change
Remembering when you were strapped for cash
And had four cents to your name.
Hand over your money hoping they don’t blow it on the frivolous
And if they do
Your two pennies stays in their wallets and purses
But you’re there
If they need to borrow again
Because they’re going to borrow again.

Forget words like old
Geriatric
Ancient
Your first name is now preceded by Mister, Mrs, or Miss
The vantage point between that semi-formal address changes
From childlike respect
To the capitalization of adulthood
It’s like wearing dress clothes traveling to an unknown destination
It’s unclear where you’re headed
But if you’re wearing slacks
It must be important.

Your bones begin to creak and ache
Your muscles pull and push the tide
Your body begins to forecast the weather according to degree of soreness
Can you feel the first storm in your back?
The clouds roll in and rest upon your shoulders
That’s why sometimes
Your memory gets a little foggy
But the thunder and lightning in your hand is experience
An immortal gift of the divine
But even Zeus developed gray in his beard

It’s okay
Older doesn’t mean old
In the Preamble of the Universe
We hold that truth to be self-evident
That all are created equal
The sands will call us all back to the hourglass
Just because you’re a little closer to home
The vacation is far from over.

#WriteFree365 – Day 258: Worse Things Happen At Sea

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(Frank Turner is just amazing.  This reminds me of the breakup poem I wrote like three years ago.  I remember when I said I’d never write about the end to a specific relationship.  I think I’ve stuck to that.  Day 258…)

You say, “Worse things happen at sea.”  I say, “Worse things have happened to me…”

Relax.
You’re not dead.
That smell of rotting flesh
It’s not you
It’s me.
Maybe that stench is your name escaping
From holding cells in my stomach
Think of it as a quenched thirst
Or the remaining waste of the perfect meal
Either way
I’ll excuse myself
Since my presence disgusts you so much

That pain you feel is not the fatal blow
It’s your spirit working tirelessly to relearn how to love without my love.
The weight on your chest is your soul getting used to support it without my spot
See?
You’re strong enough to never drop it
Since you’re still breathing
Exhale while you push that weight up
And let me go
When you’ve had enough exercise.

Remember how thrilling that dive into bliss was?
This is your lungs feeling overmatched by the endless pool of infatuation
You’ve held in so much adoration
Trying to see how long you could stay submerged
That you think you nearly killed yourself
Even if you did
The operative word
Is nearly
Hey
Exhale on the way back to the surface
And be sure to catch your breath
Before diving again.

#WriteFree365 – Day 257: Searchin’

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(Roy Ayers fits the calmness in my spirit while I write, even if I’m not sure what to write about.  Day 257…)

When it’s right, it’s right.  When it’s wrong, it’s wrong.  And I’m gonna sing my song all day long…

When thoughts and words
Decide to lead me down a dark hallway
Teaching me to learn my soul
One bump
One stubbed toe against the bedroom door
One poem
At a time

What doesn’t kill me
Makes me stronger
But more sensitive to that strength
And calloused to the fear
I’m not as afraid of the dark.
I know where almost everything is..

#WriteFree365 – Day 256: Head Like A Hole

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(Nothing to say. Flipped a twenty-five year old song. Day 256…)

Bow down before the one you serve.  You’re gonna get what you deserve…

You gather so much information from me
Proving that learning is a lifelong hobby
Those who can’t
Teach those who can
To do it the way I like.

There’s a proper way to study
To ingest facts and opinions sourced from my brain to
Your brain
Knowledge is power
The library of my history stretches far down the halls in your mouth
That the pages of my family tree are at the end of your throat.

Sapiosexual turned bibliophile.
My work cited on your tongue
And you received lesson dictated
Verbatim.

#WriteFree365 – Day 255: Killing in The Name

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(This song grabbed me.  I just randomly played it while looking for another, and it wouldn’t let me choose another.  Day 255…)

You justify those that died by wearing the badge.  They’re the chosen Whites…

I wonder how upset God is
At seeing so many of His children
Forged His signature on their siblings’ death certificates

Our God is an awesome God
We are made in His image
Hatred disguised as justice
Insults His intelligence
With His children as subjects
Outlined and bulleted

The Bible is studied in Cliff notes
Just enough of it is read to pass whatever law by
And those of us
Who are armed with Scripture and Faith
Learn to never bring swords to gunfights

It seems to be ok to corral us
And execute us
They’ve made an ink stamp of God’s signature out of our blood
Their trigger finger must not be on their writing hand
Hatred is ambidextrous.

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