the woman in the back: poem 21

30 poems in 30 days
day 21: april 27, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


the woman in the back

they tend to fade into the background
no noises
sometimes no faces
had it not been for the sun you never would have noticed

they never know they’re losing : poem 20

30 poems in 30 days
day 20: april 26, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


they never know they’re losing

my baby gonna have that good hair
peter rican indian shit
wet wavy straight and shiny
i want you to have my baby
some brown skin bombshell name marisol on the lower east
alphabet city type broad
study abroad type broad
she just living here til she graduate
i’m just living here til she graduate
then back across one of those uptown bridges
unless i can get her pregnant soon
yeah
that’s what i’m finna do
cock ya legs up
baby gonna have my eyes
your everything else

blessed are those who struggle


yeah yeah yeah – new tattoo. “blessed are those who struggle”

yeah, god lives on the other side of the wall.

actually, i’m not 100% sure what i meant by that, but it felt good to say it.
and deep.
speaking of being deep: i hate when poets say “this poem is going to be deep” before they spit the poem and it turns out to be wack as fxck.
nah mean?

if i was forced to give a title to every 30 days, i would call the past 30 days: “the 30 days of insecurities.”
92.3% of the people in my life spent a great deal of those days feeling insecure – whether they admitted it to me or not. what i do know for sure is that i’m no dummie – and i know people (thanks to a few professors, mentors, books, and being who i am) – and i know what insecurity looks and sounds like.

if you’re sitting there asking yourself “is he talking about me?” – then i’m talking about you.

—–
feeling better about my workouts:


—–

and i’m thinking of making a few changes to the reality television world:

i think the biggest loser should NOT be about losing weight…but about real losers:
neffie
frankie
lisa raye
brandy
ray j
kim & reggie

and the list goes on.
i mean, for real! what the hell is the issue?
why does EVERYBODY have a reality show?

the only reality show starring a used-to-be celebrity that was worth watching and that deserved an EMMY was BEING BOBBY BROWN. for real.
that was BY FAR the greatest show ever in life.

—–

i’m learning that my even my reflection is finding it hard to be me. the life is getting a bit hard – but fair – and i love it more now than i did yesterday.

—–

last week was coachella here in LA – crazy crowds, bands, jay -z, cocaine, liquor and diversity.
who could ask for anything more.

okay okay okay – i didn’t do cocaine – but the people i was with did cocaine…
so it was still a great time.

and this is NOT my endorsement to try it.
sigh – stop being so damn sensitive.

—–

and if you’ve been reading, you’d know i’ve been doing 30 poems in 30 days. today i posted poem 19: (check post below).

—–

if these walls could talk…we would think someone was trapped inside of them and be scared as hell.
lol. for real.
#random, i know.
speaking of random, i still dislike 99% of tyler perry’s work.
and i’m about to send a nasty letter to ntozake shange’s house for giving permission to produce her masterpiece.

i hate being an intellectual sometimes.
looking at many of my high school friends, i sometimes think it would have been easier to make nothing of myself, trap myself in a box, and one day die thinking there’s nothing else out there.

then i think:
naw.

—–

oh yeah…why are you not following me on twitter? : @skinnyjeanius

—–

and there’s 5 weeks until memorial day.
some of you with the muffin tops may have waited too long to start working out – but those of you with a chance can get the body you really want by then. DO IT!!!!

if you’re reading this…that means you could also be doing crunches right now. right? right? right?

—–

well…don’t wanna bore you relaly and i really dont have much to discuss with you…
so i’ll end it there.

cool?

get at me.

orgasms in 2.99 haikus : poem 19

30 poems in 30 days
day 19: april 25, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

orgasms in 2.99 haikus

we believe in sex
love is the religion
god comes when he’s called

what we do connects
heaven earth moon sun and stars
gods and god on wall

there is no haiku
that will stare at me like you
do. stopping short.

you play too much: poem 18


30 poems in 30 days
day 18: april 24, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


you play too much

call nikki and tell her the revolution she’s been writing about is soon approaching
black men and women are starting to take responsibility for themselves
and we’ll dance on the side walks in celebration
we’ll raise the dead in chants
old speeches
guitar chord fingering music
get malcolm’s people on the phone
call betty
betty!
betty!
betty!
like she called malcolm from beneath the flames
her husband
not her grandson
and we’ll be like five year olds
you play too much

run flower child : poem 17


30 poems in 30 days
day 17: april 23, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


run flower child

ain’t enough nina simone songs
bongs/hookahs/shisha
poems
or integrated cups of coffee to make me forget what happened
marcus would place us on the same boat because i have no proof or documentation
run flower child
i’d love to sit with you in a park and pick your brain

wait

30 poems in 30 days
day 16: april 22, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

wait

when you finish the work early
we sit here and wait to die
if we’re lucky it’s soon
fill our pockets with letters hoping they won’t be mistaken for bread by the buzzards and left behind for the loved ones
i’ve become successful at tiptoeing around their beliefs and unasked questions
they just stare hoping the tapping of my knuckles on glass will tell my secrets
these will die with me
i promise
the cars are not yet blurry
we are not yet driving fast enough
the bar mate told me there’s only one life
love has already proven him wrong
i’ve met joselyn
and she told me otherwise
something about black girl with natural hair and a canvas i trust
i trust her
i can’t walk fast enough
i’ve waited slowly
and believed fast
these thoughts move through my head seeking permanent habitation and shelter from the storm
the only real things are dreams
but i can not sleep
i want to die watching others take advantage and for granted these lives
this abyss is staring into me knowing nothing is happening soon
and staring into the mirror is only for vanity’s sake
but they are everywhere

get them from around me!
a watched body never dies
proven wrong by my aunt in 1991 or years that followed or the funeral procession
proceed
wait