In the wake of rezoning

on the remains of a bridge
that led to a livelihood long gone
where there is now only rubble,
abandoned trash,
and crooked bricks overgrown with dusty weeds,
like a wild white bird in a cage
a tattered piece of paper fought against the bent face of a fence in the wind
some desperate child
kept from its mother

you tightened your lips
and your thoughts sat still and silent
afraid of how easily you killed your smile

and I looked at your face
staring out the window
saw the hardness set in...

lowered my eyes and found your blouse
opened more than you would have liked
and remembered filling water balloons
how they became heavy in my hand
how I enjoyed holding them

and confessed quite casually
irreverently selfish
when you caught me prying
that i was undressing you with my eyes
aroused by an imagination
careful to stay a few steps ahead of the real thing

the real thing just a bit too bumpy
and hairy, with blemishes
and a sweet musk that
smells like fertile soil
freshly tilled

the crumbs of passion's residue
caking over a quickly fading elation
giving way to the sounds and smells
of urban sprawl
and feelings forgotten in the aftermath

©12.16.17 ebn

What's funny is

What’s funny is
You know I would
If you leaned forward
Just enough
To give me an excuse
To say I didn’t mean to
But it was there
And what else was I supposed to do

Even while I was staring
With hands full of opportunity
I bet you’d pretend
You didn’t want to tempt me
Give in
And let me
And hang on to your self-respect
(Your mother’s words memorized)
By the teeth
While your legs begged to tremble
And your pride whimpered
Wanting to melt away

What’s even funnier
Is that you know
That I know
If we slipped
We’d break something between us
That could never be fixed
And would have to get drunk
In a disgusting blaze of liquid fire
Sweating out our souls
To make it worth
All we would lose

©12.05.17 ebn

What color is your soul

What color is your soul
You ugly little splendid thing
Always making me laugh in terror
At the harsh and ruinous strokes of my ego
Upon your delicate canvas
You mayfly
You oblivious little ladybug
Caught in my disgusting stare

How can I love you
When my only thought is to smush you beneath my thumb
And clean off your suffering with my tongue
Your broken wings caught in my teeth
As I smile, delighted by some fantasy of
Your spirit flying away
Unseen
And so utterly beautiful
Because it exists only in my imagination

How sordid
To think I was so impressed with you
That it cost you your life

©12.05.17 ebn

Harold’s Song Revisited

Love echoes
Through space and time
Meeting me here from yesterday
With the softened laughter and sun shadows
Of who I was and am
A more gentle mirror
For my soul’s daydream
Floating memories
Like dandelion tufts
In the peaceful air
Of my heart’s quiet park
Where I go to remember
The joys I took for granted
And the moments
And people
Who filled my life
With life

@10.21.2017 ebn

Sun shadow

too far ahead kills moments
the tastes I crave
licking dew from unopened petals
before noon

may I swim in your puddles
the sun won’t spare
know the softness of butterfly wings
while its calm

eye can love you tenderly
in just one breath, and you will see
that we can dance like spiders do
a delicate ballet for two

don’t hesitate
relax and drift into me
don’t pull back
let the breeze of my love set you free

taste my lips
like rain drops upon your mouth
feel my warmth
like the comforter soft on your bed

if we both were blind
and could not speak
would our fingers tremble
what would we remember

when it’s time to catch your breath
let the sun sweep away the dream
and with a smiling heart
rise refreshed, as the memory fades away

©08.27.2017

The dead

The dead
Are like fallen trees
Old memories
A thousand leaves
That used to filter the sun

Etched in the hearts of souls
Who drank from the bowls
Of laughter and song

The dead
Are like water
We used to drink
Bathe in
Play in
Now gone somewhere
In our atmosphere

©07.01.2017 ebn

Open

Yawn
Scraping off the crud of sleep
Heart punching through my dreams
Focus blinding
Sunshine, brilliant minded
The universe exploding
Conscious climbing

Awake
Body snatched
From the sucking mud
Of watered graves
Thoughts swimming to the surface
Desperate to fly
The prayers of slaves

The breeze
A thousand whispers
Angel sighs
Dead weight lost to lullabies

Jump
To catch my breath
Above the rest
And pass the test
Of nothingness

Pressing seeds
In the memories of the fallen
Vines crawling out of my ears
Past, present, and future tears
Tattooing my tongue
With the melodies of life
Singing being
Through my smiling eyes

©07.01.2017 ebn

Dance of the dead

I drowned my soul
From giving hands
That offered me
An endless cup

And laughed
While I swam recklessly
Sinking deep
Beneath what’s up

Turned upside down
I found my feet
My head throbbing
Swollen with blood

And comatose
I lost my breath
And dreamed a nightmare
In the flood

Out of my mind
I lost myself
And lent myself
To be abused

By carcasses
Most beautiful
Who lured with lust
This fool confused

And when the morning
Cut my eyes
Revealing what I left
To waste

I gathered
What was left of me
Ashamed to still need
One more taste

©06.29.2017 ebn

Our last date

I knocked over my glass
Leaning back to far
And spilled my wine
Laughing too hard
At a joke that wasn’t that funny
Just to get a better look
At that girl in my periphery
Walking away from me

And would have gotten away with it
Had you not seen me
Bite my lip
And break my eyebrow
When you shot me that
“What’s wrong with you?” look
And realized I was salivating
After a plate I wish I had for dinner

©06.28.2017 ebn

You were one of those neon signs

You were one of those neon signs
Meant to catch my eye
A bad color
Exciting for its taboo
And its enticing familiarity

And I spoke to you
Like a snake in a tree
Words slipping off of my tongue
And into your ear

Dying there
But staining, too
And that bad color
Flattered you

You blushed
Like some drunken star
Leaving streaks across your face
Or did I smack you
While you laughed?

The lust was mechanical
My passion never finding its footing
Missing gears and
Stripping itself bare
While I sweated some clear stuff
Not blood

Breathing hard
To be satisfied
Though there was no rhythm in you
Your manikin body
Simply complied

And though it was consensual
It still felt like rape
Like I had stolen something
From myself
In exchange for nothing

©06.28.2017 ebn

Love has morning breath

Love has morning breath
Sleep crusted eyes
And stubble here and there

Lies and tells the truth
Whispers and screams
to let you know it cares

Love talks in its sleep
And drools a little
Face mashed against the pillow

Begs you, nags you, lifts you up
While keeping secrets
From your ego

Love will turn its back on you
Steal all the sheets
And let one slip

Swear that it can’t stand your ass
Then pack your bags
And plan your trip

Love annoys
And picks with you
Wanting to play when you are broke

Getting on your last good nerve
Always laughing
At your joke

Love forgets to say, “Goodnight.”
And, “Good morning!”
And, “I love you.”

Arguing with everything
And second guessing
What you do

Love is hot and sweaty
Cold and quiet
And always in my mind

The paint I smack you with
While grinding teeth
Through tears that keep me blind

©6.28.2017

Capitalism is a National Security Threat

Getting more than what it's worth
For what you’ve got, is rich.
Paying more than what it's worth
For what you need? A bitch.

"Those that’s got, shall get" some more
The strong prey on the weak
"Those that’s not, shall lose" their store
Mouths that beg don't speak

Promises and prayers hook
The minds of wanting men
While the law and systems hook
The free and outspoken

Those who know the game is fixed
Won’t play it anymore
No amount of politics
Can even up the score

Time to turn things upside down
The first will be the last
No more selling stuff you "found"
The future's got a past.

©06.04.2017 ebn

Feel me?

When you
Have to
Prove who
You are

Know that
Blind folk
Can’t see
A star

©06.02.2017 ebn

I wanted

I wanted
That stuff
Company I enjoyed
Fresh air
And a good view
And children who called me mister

But

We grow up making do
With what is available

So

Friends were
Accidents
And love was a desperate plea
To satisfy a craving
With whatever was for sale

My life, I realized too late
Was lived in a discount store
And my living room was filled with
Hand me downs
Abandoned ideas
And half eaten recipes

The music
Never made it out of my head
And the tune I whistle
Through crooked lips
Is out of breath

So I look at the phone
With lots of people to call
But no one to talk to

As my heart
Congested with the plaque of waiting
Struggles to beat

As the sun goes down

©05.31.2017 ebn

The cut of a man

The stars cracked
And slid down the wall of the sky
Like dying tears
After gunshots

And though I was dressed presentably
I was fixated on catching the tail of that damned devil
Like I had just been born
Stuffed into a body too big to be loved
And hated
Because God chose to climb in there with me
While the jealous
spit

Even as I tapped my heel
To a rhythm – a holy ghost
That spoke like
Some invisible graffiti
Tattooed to a soul
That won’t sit still

Each one of them, my daddy
Hiccups from angels
The last raindrops of a raging storm
Kissing me goodnight
With swollen hearts

Choking on life
Plucked vines possessed with drunken deity
Knotted around necks
And pulled tight
Into pendulums

Flying to hell
From groaning limbs
Telling time
To stop
One too many times

©05.24.2017

The ball

On a great volume of breathing water
I waited for eyes to find me
Sentimental hands to reach out and
Rescue me from my listless boredom

The high ceilings of the cloudscape
Easily accommodated the flocks of thoughts
Lifted from me by the salt water like fingerprints
As I slipped over the slopes of each wave

Beneath me flowing fields of water grasses
Waved at me from just beneath the glassy surface
Offering me the illusion
That I was free and flying again

©05.23.2017 ebn

Love like

love like
sticky syrup fingers
hands don't shake
don't pick up
don't touch...

you got to
(and you bet not say this out loud)
suck 'em awhile
or wash 'em really good
before you use 'em again.

©05.22.2017

We black in corners

we black in corners
when lights off
whispering, mumbling
and talking shit
armed and ready to
throw them thangs
when shit done gone
too far
(we are?)
less the hammer white
and all that bangin
got an official permit
that won't quit until the job is done
and the last one
is you

©05.22.2017

A pack of dogs

a pack of dogs
salivating across the street
tongues wagging in frothy mouths
about how you made them groan
when you walked away

looked hard but
never saw you
never carried groceries for your grandmother
never held the door open for your mother
or brought you bouquets of dandelions

they buzzed around my ear
like summer bees
asking for directions
so they could make honey
from your flower

but never saw their sister
in your eyes, your smile, your laughter
never listened to you hum a tune
while hanging laundry in the backyard
never listened to your poetry
when you said grace

those other boys
would drop their heads
when your daddy came around
and never said, “good morning, sir.”
Or “good morning” to you, for that matter.

©05.22.2017

Art class

my footprint in the mud
kissed the earth
dried in the sun
bore witness that I was
old

i held fire
at the end of a stick
eyes and lungs burning
challenging wild and hungry beasts

but the wind came
blew out the fire
erased my footprints
and took me away

now i scrawl my memories
like graffiti on this white wall
angry desperate and afraid

so that souls who survive
will be agitated
to run in the rain
stretch in the sun
and let me breathe again

©05.22.2017 ebn

Sunlight

Cleanliness is next to godliness
And like the moor boy who caught death of cold
When his master scrubbed him throughout the night
To remove the blackness from his soul

Now you do your best to scrub yours away,
The color of your mind, to be white
For there is nothing cleaner than
The darkness giving way to the light

But your definitions are artificial
The books you’ve read from are a fraud
I hate to say it, but you’ve been hoodwinked
They’ve even replaced your God

And I know some of you can’t hear that
That it’s too late in the game for you
That what you’ve believed for all of your life
Must somehow, in someway be true

This idea of redemption
From the sins of survival is suspicious
Is my blackness a mark denying me justice
For which I should ask forgiveness?

You can keep on playing these color games
The cursed, the wretched, and the fool
But you will never learn the truth
As long as you’re in their school

The tongue that we speak wasn’t always
The language of satan
We’ve forgotten our ancestral words
That gave us our dominion

We’ve been cheated of our birthright
Our inheritance has been sacked
We are unwanted guests in our own home
Serving looters, liars, and savages

There is no coming to terms with them
For centuries they’ve made themselves clear
Their fate was sealed by their own hand
And now the end is here.

©05.11.2017 ebn

Take a child

Take a child from its mother early enough
And you can impress on it the world you wish for it to see

You can tell it how the world is supposed to be
You can tell it anything and it will believe

Eagles raised with chickens will peck for dusty seeds
And a full-grown elephant will never test its leash

Shaking our heads we pity those poor beasts
But never consider that we too have been deceived

We pay for water

Take a child from its father early enough
And you can teach it fear and hopelessness

You can teach it your religion and which god to impress
And it will gladly sell its birthright for your respect

Shaking our heads we pity those wretches
But never consider that we too have been misled

We prefer food laced with poison

Take a child from itself early enough
And you can tell it what it is and how it will continue

You can frame its entire life inside your will to do good
And it will be grateful for anything you offer as food

Shaking our heads we pity those that are duped
But never consider that we too have been fooled

We walk around with airs

©05.10.2017 ebn

Love is a losing game

Love is a losing game

The strained chords of my aching heart
Squeak and groan the unintelligible words
Of some begging protest
Against being left alone
Too late

The strings of our history
Once divinely braided, got tangled
In too much busyness, a mess of confusion
Reaching over and taking from each other
Tightening the knots of a frustration
We’d eventually have to cut
To be free from

And so I lost you
Cutting too deep, too far,
Too much

Our once beautiful flower
Wilted, petals falling away
From my shaking hands
Spilled tears

Blinded with grief
I walk into the morning sun without you
The new day tearing into my face
With its cold tongue
And ignorant sympathies

Love is a losing game.

©05.08.2017

Cupid’s dog

Looking for love in all the wrong places
Hitting the clubs for hos to erase this
Urge to devour,

The loneliest hour
Is like a blood red moon calling beasts to power

Little lambs in the house with their tight ass dresses
On display, a la carte, their expensive tresses

Nothing more than a leash to attract the senseless
The meat may be sweet but it ain’t defenseless

Teasing hungry animals with fakes and fawns
Fooling amateurs with promises that break at dawn

Small talk gets attention, keeps them in control
Laughing at the puppies as their stomachs growl

Surrounded by the harmless they take back their time
Whether imbibing on hard liquor or just sipping wine

The music camouflages all the fear and lust
Party lights confuse the eyes about what they can trust

While the wolves fix their eyes on the meat that’s raw
I sniff the air for a healthy specimen to gnaw

Don’t need a death wish looking for some ecstasy
But a runner guaranteed to make it hard for me

I want to hear that whimper when she knows she’s caught
Feel her heartbeat racing, terrified and hot

Last call and I’m packaging my meal for tonight
Lights on and we’re off to satisfy appetites

Gonna smash it like a burger when I’m starving to death
Toss the wrapper on the floor when I’m all out of breath

Sweep the trash right out of the door
And change the sheets on the bed
Wash, rinse, and repeat until the day that I’m dead

©05.08.2017 ebn

Oh to own my own Starbucks

Oh to own my own Starbucks
or corner bakery
a neighborhood consignment shop
or an art gallery

If I could guarantee the rent
I'd have to pay to sell my goods
a steady base of customers
from outside of my neighborhood

then I could finally live the dream
and smile with every sale
the music of my register
ensuring I won't fail

I wouldn't need to worry bout
no strong armed robberies
I'd have a great relationship
with the local police

I'd hire those in need of work
in my community
I couldn't offer benefits
but coffee would be free

as far as pay, I'd guarantee
more than minimum wage
and I would not discriminate
based on color, sex, or age

but I cannot get a loan
no matter where I go
so I sell CDs from my trunk
til I can raise the dough.

©05.05.2017 ebn

In the quiet of the room

In the quiet of the room
Colors covered for the night
My thoughts unfold, an evening bloom
Coaxed forth by the faintest light

A kaleidoscope of butterflies
Shadows stirring in the dark
Whispering both truth and lies
To seed my dreams with any spark

And seated with a patient ear
My conscience watches homeless thoughts
That flare and fade and disappear
Trying their luck at being caught

And somewhere in their fluttering
A treasure takes its time to grow
A song that I should love to sing
A melody I want to know

And just as I pick up the tune
I slip away, the world released
But don't look for me past the moon
I'm not that far, not in the least.

©05.04.2017 ebn

Last moments we cannot keep

If there was a pause button
I could press
Between now and your last breath
The second hand waiting
My grief would burn out
And grow stale
Afraid of tomorrow
Until my hurt fell away
Like a dead flower petal

©05.03.2017

The tree of knowledge

Three monkeys sat beneath the tree
But only two would look at me
And only two would listen
When I asked them where I was.
Of the two who could answer
Only one heard my question
And he was of little help
Because he didn't know himself.

04.25.2017 ebn

Momma used to threaten us

Momma used to threaten us
to get our shit together
some straightened up
but those that didn't
got slicker than ever.

Momma would reward the good
with extra treats and such
the bad one's didn't study that
they bullied theirs from us.

I often wondered, "what's the use"
if hardheads still get paid?
Momma said, "just do YOUR best,
they'll get the bed they made."

Time went on and I looked real hard
to see if she was right
but while I was bent on studying them
I lost track of MY sight.

The bottom line I learned from that
was to get ahead in life
you've got to mind your own business
and leave the rest to strife.

©04.24.2017 ebn

Quick piece

There was a woman I wanted to marry
because she was so fine
but when the ceremony was over
I'm telling you she lost her mind
or maybe she never had one
and acted like she did
reciting lines she memorized
so I would make a bid

I loved this other one to death
her body was perfect for me
I'd get lost when we laid down
swimming in ecstacy
but after so many positions
it started to become routine
they say there's joy in repetition
but I got bored with that queen

Then I met someone who made me laugh
what's more she always made me think
she wasn't all that to look at
but she definitely didn't stink
when we made love we looked at each other
I mean deep into each other's eyes
we were totally vulnerable when we were together
no need to tell any lies

Now when I look back at it
and think about a wife
I consider which one would mother my child
with a healthy and joyful life

©04.22.2017 ebn

Too much baggage

I can guarantee
Blaming it on me
Won’t work.
I want to be free
That’s why she calls me
A jerk.
Everyone can see
That she needs to be
Casework.

©04.20.2017 ebn

Errand

Nothing more scary than old black men
Sitting on a porch, drinking beer, talking low
Ritually swallowing their bitterness
Always full, ready to explode

Even if one was your daddy
A silent password into the dark
You made sure to tread carefully
Measuring your words to prevent a spark

And when you spoke, you trembled
In the midst of this council of gods
Feeling the heat of their fiery eyes
While you waited for your father’s nod

You spoke just loud enough
Respectfully, and not too bold
With a message from your momma
That the food was getting cold

They all leaned back and chuckled
But you kept your eyes fixed to the ground
And your daddy dispatched you quickly
To tell momma that he’d be ‘round

©04.20.17 ebn

Negro sweet

Poppa’s big brown hands called us
Over and we came running
Gathered round him curious and unsure
Looking out for that wet rag he kept
Tucked in his back pocket
And popped us with
When he caught us off guard

He didn’t say a word
Just stared at us
Til we thought we were in trouble
His liquored eyes looking through us
Remembering something
From a long time ago

A crooked grin broke the tight line of his mouth
And he heaved a great big ol titty of a watermelon
Into the air while we watched
Wide eyed and terrified, holding our breath
Til he dropped it… on purpose

We squealed when it cracked open
Bad as bees, dancing
As poppa bent over with a grunt
Picking up chunks and handing them out
To sticky hands with dirty fingernails

©04.20.2017 ebn

Our eyes danced in the fire

Our eyes danced in the fire
As we warmed ourselves in the glow of the past
Fascinated by the flying embers
Rising into the night
Careful not to let them get away
And nestle themselves in dry places
Igniting the dead
To burn the present

©04.16.2017

When we were children

Jumping in puddles of sunshine
Chasing birds and butterflies

Curiously studying caterpillars
And ladybugs

Laughter tickling my ears
Little stomachs growling

Climbing down from crab apples
Racing to lunch bags

Wiggling toes
Munching on sandwiches

Straining to catch a drink
Wet from water fountains

Dreamy, happy eyes
Looking up at fluffy white clouds

Napping in the cool grass
Dandelions standing guard

©04.14.2017 ebn

Don't start none, won't be none

When you're being hunted
turn the tables
be the hunter
better to be running game
than running out of breath

©04.08.2017 ebn

The usual

“I want to have sex with you”
is all that you’re saying.
A wordsmith whose net
tricks the mind into saying,
“yes.”

A mind that wouldn’t otherwise
have time to entertain
the agenda of some horny guy
smooth talking the same
mess

as the guy on the street
that sucked his teeth
when he saw the curve of
her butt in them jeans

and shot his best game
crude as it was to her
which encouraged you
hoping your skills she’d prefer

so you dip in the mix of spells
stored in your brain
making your play for
your pleasure, her pain

hoping to persuade her
you’ve got what it takes
to make it worth her while
to give you a shake

but the time you spend dancing
to get her attention
takes its toll on your prayer
that your prey will relax
and

the longer you take
her interest may fade
tired of hearing big talkers
who can’t close, or get paid

stop talking
stop chasing
stop scheming on trim
do something
make moves
set your sights on big plans

open a business
father the fatherless
cut the grass on your street

look out for the helpless
shelter the homeless
teach the hungry how to eat

you wanna know the greatest aphrodisiac
it’s not the the black man who takes
but the one who gives back

but say you do grab her mind
with your sensual rhymes
and get deep in her heavenly treasure

after the juice has been poured,
and you’re bored
what comes next
once you’ve had your fill of her pleasure

you stickin’ around
are you two, like, together
or was she just an indulgence
again
someone to satisfy your low self esteem
and make you feel more like a man?

As a matter of fact
how many sisters have you used
to satisfy a recurring sweet tooth?
And how many sisters
emotionally abused
refuse to acknowledge this truth?

Are we all damaged goods
starving for love in any shape, form, or fashion
dead to ourselves, so we light any fire
even if we get burned in our passion?

©04.07.2017

Yearning

If you look up in the sky
there's nothing there
but lint
and sometimes a bird.

... and you realize
that this firmament
under your feet
is heaven's toilet
which makes you
a piece of shit.

©04.07.2017 ebn

Missile strike

we stood there shivering
needing to get some air
while the sky hung low
and the dogs barked
in the distance

through the smoky clouds
I thought I found the moon
but it was only the light
at the end of the tunnel

©04.07.2017 ebn

The way of the West

there's no shame
in digging up the dead
and hanging them before cameras
to terrorize minds

and usher sympathy
uglier
when its your own handiwork
artfully presented
to give credit to
your philanthropies

©04.07.2017

George

boots on the ground ain't high enough
they sink too deep and sludge flows in
blood and bone from the blender
of some great white, green eyed "friend"

aid delivered in hazmat suits
AIDS delivered in vaccine shoots
foundations from foreign nations
staging missions as they loot

food shipments dropped like bombs
on the heads of the shell shocked poor
medicine and water wasted
like cracked eggs on the bare earth floor

cute little corpses
with their eyes still asking why
painted pretty with munitions
caked in death’s most brilliant dye

sidewalk shops and spas
reduced to nothing more than rubble
the color of life sucked out
by monsters marching on the double

the news is a commercial
a trailer for the latest hit
straight from the front, direct to you
remixed and edited

there are no monster killers
so the monsters have turned up
spinning, flipping scripts
while terrorizing – your time’s up!

where is the knight whose had enough?
where is the pauper king?
where is David's little ass,
his arm, his rock, his sling?

giants fall, I know they do
I've heard the stories told
but giants don't fall by themselves
they fall to the young and the bold

but the young don’t listen to elders
and the elders have nothing to say
like ostriches, with asses out
who pretend that they’re not getting raped

is this the end of the line?
are we too far gone to come back?
have we all become bitches for riches we chase
while never worth more than a snack?

we say the world has gone to hell
and that someone’s got to fix this
but this didn’t happen overnight
we snoozed, we lost, we deserve this

if by chance a kid named George happens to read this
I’m gonna say this one last thing and be done
George, you were born a dragon slayer
please, take out the dragons, my son.

©04.07.2017 ebn

The concert

People there
Following strings they don’t understand
Swaying to beats they cannot hear
Like they have to pee
Standing in place for so long

But I was never on stage for you
I was just the wind
Carrying a familiar scent
For the homesick
The out of place
The remembered

Only a few felt the raindrops

©04.05.2017 ebn

Of my name

The loudness
A big tree falling before me
Crashing through backyards and living rooms
Stirring up summer swarms of love
We chased and ran from
Like the pups that we were
Learning our tales

The light
Fireflies in our eyes
Like cigarettes at night
Dancing on the front porch
From explosions of laughter
Shouting
And fights

Every star in the sky
Gathered round the table
Holding hands in prayer
Singing out their souls
Into the bowls of our
Young heads

How we rolled in those waves
Those thunderous waves of emotion
Stirred up and released
From the bowels of ancient ships
And buried aquifers

Memory passed through pain
Blindness cured by blood
Each note recomposed to connect us to
Hidden truths

Our ears drank the drunken tears of
The baby gods we looked up to

And I can still remember the loudness
Of my name
In the mouth of my family

©04.05.2017 ebn

Heaven's rent

They say that heaven is ten zillion lights years away;
that God, who dwells within, done broke His lease today.

The water never got hot or cold. The utilities weren’t dependable.
No one came by for the trash, and the noise was just unbearable.

No one knows where God has gone, though some say up in the sky;
somewhere deep within the sun. Don’t look or you’ll burn your eyes.

Forbidden to look upon His face, you refuse to look into the mirror;
the plank in your eye is a bridge to nowhere, overreaching what can get no nearer.

So you’ve been left to your own devices, the evidence of your impotence;
mind divided, hooked on vices, too far gone to seek deliverance.

God’s tired of waiting for made up minds begging for second chances,
always trying to pray their way out of natural consequences.

Leaving fools to play their games in vacant lots and special classes;
put off by the stench that reeks from sagging pants and unwashed asses.

Who wants to see their children starve by feasting on empty edibles
just because they have no taste for truths that are healthy and available?

Having been neglected, rejected, and disrespected as a good tenant,
God has left the building, shorting you way more than His rent.

©04.01.17 ebn

Meditation on the death of a newborn

earth erupted
seed blood
tears mud
died the soil

but oceans
still breathed
the sun could
still see
closed eyes
that never will

and the universe
gave you the space
to think about it

©03.20.2017 ebn

Those words

Carelessly they crawl on
clothes and naked skin
barbed feet easily
climbing into ears or
open mouths

get tangled in hair
nest there
laying eggs that hatch
and squirm
giving headaches and
nightmares

bite like nasty creepy legged things
clinging when seen
anticipating their host’s desperation
to shake them free

pressing their little bodies
against the terrified
who realize they’re still there
doing something
horrifying

and even when the brave
pluck off the things with straining legs
breaking, crushing
leaving stains
the residue that remains
you have to wipe on something

©03.17.2017 ebn

Into the couch

Joints cracking stretching out of the bed
Musty sweet from sleeping with my clothes on
Mattress missing someone to hear my yawn
Mind too tired to hold the thoughts climbing up

Dry feet drag me into the living room
Outside the window the day’s getting dressed
Morning quiet as the apartment waits
Hung over memories from yesterday

A toilet flushes and a door creaks open
A naked angel appears out of nowhere
Hair like a bird’s nest and her face like a dream
An earthly flower looking only for me

Back beaded by the nap of the couch
Body sun sliced by half open blinds
Buckle clinking under fumbling thumbs
Her weight won’t wait and sinks us into the couch

Pushing away the gyro meat on my breath
The farts that crinkled up the sheets overnight
The roach that’s sitting where my liquor had been
The neighbors at it cause he’s just coming home

Her magic fingers stroke the stress from my head
Sucks out the poison from my soul with her lips
I wrap my arms around her warm tenderness
And drink the life she breathes into me again

©03.11.17 ebn

The bed wetter

I don’t know if everybody peed in the bed
But as a kid
I did
Not once
But many times

When it was too dark
Too cold
When I was too relaxed
Waking from a dream in mid stream
Halfway to total relief

But the trouble of
Peeling out of my draws
And making it past squeaky floors
To wash up in the bathroom

Hiding the evidence
Sneaking new sheets
And flipping the mattress
So I could go back to sleep…

Along with having to
Explain my shame
Taught me that convenience
Can be inconvenient

That I have
Control over consequences
by making different choices

And that laziness and fear
Are shortcuts to bigger messes

©03.08.2017 ebn

The bum

When the sun reaches down
to wipe the sleep from my eyes
smelling like young tree whispers
and honeybees

I miss my father
and wash my face in tasteless tears.

Standing up straight,
wearing a soft blue shirt,
he waves his arm to reveal the morning

as men play bossa nova across the street
inside the café with its
windows wide open.

The musical notes gather
like a flock of nuthatches
in the boughs of my heart

while I remember his warm words
falling on my face
like the day resting its hand on my shoulder.

A waiter
sets his not quite finished cigarette
on the edge of a wrought iron table
while spraying down the glistening
cobblestoned sidewalk.

And a wild canary,
flitting around in the branches of a lemon tree,
watches sparrows bathe in the
little clear pools below

while a lovely pedestrian
reaches down to check a troublesome heel
her loose white blouse, mouthwatering...

And while I allow my imagination its freedom,
a brand new black cab
stops at the light, obstructing my view
as another woman applies her lipstick
in the back seat.

I take a deep breath,
my stomach bored and grouchy
like an annoying puppy
pulling at the bed sheets

when the sound of a quarter
dropped into my plastic cup
raises my eyes
and my hopes

as the door to the bakery opens beside me
and my wife hands me a breakfast sandwich
and a cup of coffee

while the yellow and blue flowers
listen to me open my mouth to eat
happy as they samba in the breeze.

©3.8.17 ebn

Purgatory

When you stop putting lotion on your feet
When your tea sits in front of you and gets cold
When you don’t play music anymore
When your thoughts fall like crabapples
All the time
Too much
Killing the grass

When the ones you want to call aren’t there
And the ones you should call
Sit on your desk
Locked up
In your cell

When gray skies are the best excuse
Or rainy days
Or perfect days
To catch up with yourself
And still be lost

When you feel like a stray dog
Walking through a field of pigeons
Craving company
While their regard for you
Provokes other cravings

When dreams are richer than life
And like being born
You can’t go back

It will dawn on you
In an overcast sky
You’re staring at the wall
Frustrated with all of this
nothingness

©03.04.2017 ebn

On the rim of a sunrise

On the rim of a sunrise
I emptied myself
And watched as my cares
Burned away

©3.2.2017 ebn

The singer

There is a moment
between her appearance on stage
and the audience wanting to
take possession of her
where she dismisses their
expectations
and causes me
and everyone else
to consider her carefully.

In that emptiness I listen
with an aching discernment
and cruel appreciation
for the truth of her beauty
and the beauty of her truth:

that she is the last glass
of a liquor I will never taste again.

Her essence
so fragile
is untouchable
though the molestings she has suffered
have tuned her perfectly.

That stark sobriety
is the perfect canvas
for a soul poured out,
drunk with daydreams,
secreting the purest of nectar
with the most intoxicating scent,
desperately tugging away from the loneliness
and missing the moon

to fall upon my undeserving ears;
casting a terrible spell
of inconsolable longing
upon my heart's imagination

©02.24.2017 ebn

Dressed to kill

I hated how much time you would spend in the mirror
Perfecting the image you wanted to share
Every morning a make-up artist extraordinaire
And a top-rated stylist beyond compare
No one can hold a candle to you
When it comes to wearing the mask

And I’ve had to consider that I too am to blame
Part of reason for some of your pain
The sadness that weighs down the skin of your face
The frustration you feel when I can’t find my place
The anger and weariness that come with the fight
From being on the front lines every day and night
While commercials and ads won’t let your mind rest
Barking prescriptions for beauty and happiness

It's no wonder your armor has become your costume
Why you parade through the shade and stand out in a room
Wearing your best combat boots to the ball
Stunning, defiant, and ready to brawl

And having been in this with you from the grind
And seeing you dressed up for war all the time
I honestly can’t remember the last time you smiled
Or the last time I caught a glimpse of your inner child
I see in every photograph the subtlest of hints
Teeth clenched in control, and a fire so intense

And as I look at what this world has done to you
How, in some ways, it’s robbed me of the best of you

I buckle

And check what I’ve got left in my mag
And with a hard look of knowing
Come straight out of my bag
Inspired and ashamed by the strength you have shown
Determined to carve out of this madness, a home
Where at last you can wake up each morning relaxed
With no need to cover your face with that wax
And I can look onto your softness at last
And love you in peace

And love you in peace

©02.24.2017 ebn

A bad negro

Three brothas from another mother
Doin’ they thing
Young, handsome, and intelligent
And no one had strings.

These cats had ladies wailing
(If you know what I mean)
Blessed to handle business
Forged in fire, always clean.

Got jobs straight out of college
Working for the same firm
Crushing competition
Always ready to learn.

Promotions came like weekends
That’s how tight their game was
One hundred percent dedicated
To whatever their cause.

One day it came from up top
There would be some changes
In how the company did business
And other arrangements.

A merger had occurred
And everyone was uptight.
Their livelihoods were on the line
And budgets were tight.

But the three amigos
Wadn’t worried at all
However things shook out
They made a pact to stand tall.

They knew where one door closes
Another opens ahead,
So they took everything in stride
And kept the stress out their heads.

The new boss lit his fat cigar
And with his people in tow
Visited each department
To get a feel for how things go.

The underlings were scrambling
Hustling for their lives
Determined not to look like
Dead weight killing the hive.

The boss was quite amused
And pleased with what he observed.
His presence inspired industry
The fruit he deserved.

Now the brothas had a routine:
Meditation before movement.
Visualizing everything
Before beginning improvement.

It helped them steel their focus
And efficiently use their time.
The proof was in the pudding
No one could match their climb.

But the boss wasn’t familiar
With what looked like laziness
And interrupted one such session
Viewed as an insult to his business.

One brotha met him at the door
Shushed him and shooed him away
And closed the door, irritated
By the intrusion into their space.

Dumbfounded, the boss looked around
And before anyone could explain
The door opened, and the brothas emerged
Like they had popped a bottle of champagne.

The office was cowed by the boss’s red face
When he asked if they knew what was at stake.
The brothas, oblivious, replied
That they were taking a break.

The boss turned on his heels and left
Smoke coming out of his head
And had his assistant subpoena the brothas
On official letterhead.

Being summoned to the Lion’s den
Would make anyone else lose heart.
But the brothas went in, confident
They would not fall apart.

The boss spoke very softly
A gold pen tapping his mind.
On the table in front of him
Three contracts for them to sign.

In honor of the work they’d done
They’d be allowed to keep their positions
Provided they meet the demands
Of a new project he commissioned.

The three advanced to review the plans
And the knees of two of them buckled.
Outlined on paper was their demise
But the third brotha just kind of chuckled.

“Take it or leave it, it’s up to you.”
The boss said with a dismissive air.
The brotha that chuckled requested the pen
And signed like he didn’t care.

The other two signed when he gave them a look
And the boss leaned his chair back, amused.
“If you don’t meet the conditions as stated, you’re fired.
I don’t want you to be confused.”

The confident brotha just shrugged and said, “Bet.
You ain’t said nothing but a word.”
The boss chuckled back, in a dry kind of way
Considering their posturing absurd.

When they were out of the office, and the door shut behind them
One brotha nearly broke down and cried,
“How are we supposed to get this shit done?
It’s impossible! Professional suicide!”

But the strong brotha chided him, “Shake that shit off!
Ain’t nothing we can’t accomplish together!
In our blood is the spirit the brawn and the mind
Of the original creator!”

“So, come on my brothas, we’ve been here before
and still standing, a testament to our power.
Let’s pull it together and meet this challenge
The same way we do any other!”

The three locked their arms around each other’s shoulders
And joined their minds to focus on the business.
Like the sons of God they were, they made miracles happen
And when the boss arrived, he shouted, “What is this?!”

“How did you manage to pull this shit off?!”
He demanded, assured they would fail.
The confident brother looked him in the eye
And told him that they grew up in hell

Nothing that’s ever been thrown at them
Deterred them from success.
They’ve always had each other’s back
And that’s all they needed for any test.

The boss man looked them over
And asked their names, so he could know.
The strong one said, “That’s Shadrach, Meshach,
And they call me a bad negro.”

©02.19.2017 ebn

Idol worship

The blacker the berry
the sweeter the juice
is what the old folk said
and the young folk used

to think had something to do
with the color of pride
trying to flip the script on skin
that had them preoccupied

but the colonial gun
effectively blew their minds
brainwashing their identity
while leaving behind

their abilities and talents
which they sold on the street
like common prostitutes
undressing so they can eat

and in this brand new world
heralded by Goodship's face
they forgot what god looked like
and sat a dog in his place

and in the image of the beast
they bleached themselves in the mirror
to make sure that the world would see
who they belonged to was clear

trading in their birthright
for their new master’s grace
children ignorant
of their natural place

they once were human beings
and their God lived within
but idol worship stained their souls
and fools they have been

©02.17.17 ebn

Communion

The blacker the berry
the sweeter the juice
is what the old folk said
and the young folk used
to think had something to do
with the color of pride
trying to flip the script on skin
that had them preoccupied
but the colonial gun
effectively blew their minds
brainwashing their identity
while leaving behind
their abilities and talents
which they sold on the street
like common prostitutes
undressing so they can eat
and in this brand new world
heralded by Goodship's face
they forgot what god looked like
and sat a dog in his place
and in the image of the beast
they bleached themselves in the mirror
to make sure that the world would see
who they belonged to was clear
trading in their birthright
for their new master’s grace
children ignorant
of their natural place
they once were human beings
and their God lived within
but idol worship stained their souls
and fools they have been

©02.17.17 ebn

Can't sleep

Tossing and turning cuz I just can’t sleep
Clock in my head while I’m counting sheep
I can feel the sun coming, but it ain’t here yet
And I’m afraid that the morning will reveal my debt

My thoughts bully dreams to the back of my head
Anxieties and worries beat up hope ‘til its dead
But even in the valley of the shadow of death
I know I can’t give up as long as I still have breath

A tiny voice inside me whispers, like a small flame
Refusing to go out, and keeping me in the game
I don’t know if it’s real or not, but it knows my name
And that acknowledgment helps me endure all the pain

So I press on and a song begins to play in my head
Welcoming the sunrise as I rise from my bed
And throwing off the blankets, I feel a weight fall away
And tired or not, I’m ready for this brand new day

Another chance to get it right by being true to myself
To grab those dusty dreams and get them off of the shelf
Blow life into them, put them on, and wear them with pride
Making up my mind I’m going to enjoy this ride

No more distractions, no more doubts, no looking back, here I go
Running to the light, with teary eyes, in my flow.

©02.11.2017 ebn

A moment

Go back and listen
to what escaped your notice
in the rush of life.
Find your hindsight
and, with the paintbrush of time,
paint your guilt or irrelevance
in the colors of a backward mind.

Rewrite yesterday
in the dead language of hypotheticals,
and let your weeping nourish the roots
you would plant there;
even while the sun runs across the sky.

Her first and last breath
are nothing but echoes of whispers -
fallen flowers under the stampede of the present
pushing forward,
leaving in its wake
the sights sounds and smells
of silk cocoons
to be enjoyed by those left behind.

For the record
stars long gone
can still be seen
from far, far away.

©02.11.2017 ebn

On the other side of town

On the other side of town there's a city impound
where cars wait on death row
abandoned to the elements
untried, their crimes unknown

their lot in life to be run down
and driven hard into the ground
sometimes auctioned off to creeps
with jewish eyes and minds that cheat

evidence of departed souls
who just gave up or lost their hold
for whom previous memories
are fading sentimental dreams

©02.10.2017 Eric Nunnally

Harriet

floorboards creak
under the soles of her feet
out the door, off the porch
to the cool, soft dirt

morning sun has washed the night away
insects and birds are already awake
wind in the grass
an invisible snake

water bucket sloshes
dogs bark full of hope
firewood smells sweet
outhouse has no floor

time is an old baby
sucking bones sore
she sighs, getting up
studying pain no more

water, milk, and blood have been spilt
day just goes on unfettered by guilt
like tires on a road
done with where they been

on occasion road kill flares the eyes and the nose
everything slaughtered ain't meant for meat
butchers tell jokes while slitting throats
what people pay for they don't always eat

those left behind cry out from the woods
sometimes they laugh, teasing her mood
God hides his face to allow her the room
to bear the deep grief of the work she’s assumed

and this godawful pistol
in the pocket of her dress
takes the bullets she's fingered all night
loaded debt

when spent, surprised eyes won’t see the north star
but the driver, the shepherd, the puma, and wolf
her mother, her father, her husband and child
the pastor, the angel, the horrible truth

©02.09.17 ebn

More than a woman?

mind spinning like a dryer that won't get hot
claiming she be banging cuz her engine knock
wishing she was dishing but she really not
stuffin muffins with somebody else’s dirty sock

its like watching a talent show in the insane asylum
at the end of every act, you stand and clap, just lying
clapping harder than the rest while inside, you're dying
cuz this shit don’t make no sense, even though she trying

is she crazy cuz some bleeding heart encouraged this mess
clouding her mind with cheap ass wine to tell her how to dress
using her as a canvas for they brokenness
and displaying they work of art as an S.O.S.?

ain’t it obvious that this “bitch” has been traumatized
a stray whose pain and suffering have been glamorized
broken and made over for reciting lies
to infect other rejects and steal their souls and eyes

the ugliness be dodging you until you remember
she was once a newborn baby with her whole life before her
and that somewhere long the way the world snuck in and abused her
violating her innocence cuz no one was there to protect her

and over time she lost her mind, though she is functionally insane
the grooves and knicks of her experience keeping her guttered in pain
unable to knock down her problems cuz she can’t stay in her lane
giving the finger to her failure she reinvented the game

so while you listen to her posture and profess her truth
just remember someone’s daughter lost her baby tooth
when a pedophile’s fist broke the jaw of her youth
and the concussion that she suffered makes her act the fool.

©02.09.2017 ebn

You don't see me

You don’t see me
cuz
you don’t see you
you don’t see me
cuz
you don’t want to

no shame in your game
when you look away
preferring artificial light
to the light of day

make up caked up
you are buried alive
taking pleasure in your
suffocated suicide

blinded by fake eyelashes
your vision in jail
a pity looking pretty
ain’t uncommon in hell

a blind man or woman
standing in a broken mirror
is disconnected from reflected
truths s/he cannot bear

you don’t see the trees
seas, bees, or me
having forgotten who you are
and who you’re meant to be.

©02.04.2017 ebn

Dance of the Lost Daughter

In front of everybody
Dressed in a smear of blood
You convulse, excited by strangers
Their noses and tongues begging
To explore your self inflicted wounds
The present of yourself
Shameless
Giving in to the whispers
And regurgitated flatteries
Of scavengers
Drawn to the edge of the flame
Ears kissed by moans of your pain
And salivating, having caught the scent
Of your insanity

©02.02.17 ebn

Where is the hand to hold

Where is the hand to hold
In an empty room
When all your thoughts step back
And turn their back on you

When your well of words is empty
And your mind’s a tomb
And each breath is sickly sweet
Like you got the flu

Feeling sorry for yourself
On a cold hard floor
Consequences of your choices
Standing at the door

And you’re stuck,
Imprisoned by your mental state
Nailed to the floorboards
Of this place you hate

Wanna blame everybody else
For the reason you’re beside yourself
But the world won’t be your friend today
You’re on your own and that’s the only way

No one around to make you feel better
Just you and God, but you forgot about ‘im
Watching walls that can’t look back at you
Mirrors broken cuz they told the truth

Shadows staring through the windowpanes
As day and night become one in the same
Your soul a boulder with some tiny wings
Until you find a song that you can sing

Peel back the layers as you go inside
Uncover what it is you want to hide
Be gentle, patiently remove the shell
Take care when handling, cuz it’s fragile

And when you find that child
Make sure you hug ‘im first
And give ‘im water
All he needs to abate his thirst

Sit with him in silence and the words will come
Filling the well within you slowly til it overruns
Pouring from your eyes and clearing out the sleep
That clogged your waking life with gook from your congested dreams

And the first breath of your consciousness will make you free
As you stand naked and unashamed, at last, to be
And the world will get out of your way, in awe of you
Because you’ve found where you belong simply by being you

©01.31.17 ebn

Scraping the crust from my eyes

Scraping the crust from my eyes
You scraped the scabs off my mind
And it’s oozing
The clarity’s soothing

I don’t always articulate
Thoughts in my head
Like a politician
Or a poet that’s dead
Do they write poetry anymore?
Is spoken word checking hats at the door?

I get constipated when I’m speaking my mind
All this passion backed up from my falling behind
Where did I lose my way?
Which bell rang at recess today?

The illusion
Stops all the confusion
But when people get in the box
Their knees and their elbows get locked

Everyone has Tupperware
They’re wearing brand named underwear
But I’ve got my lunch bag
And I’m covered in clean rags

Nobody pulled me from this
With shovels of their happiness
I stood outside them
Unable to guide them

Somebody shouted my name and I cried
Cuz the voice was the ghost of a child that died
And I couldn’t retrieve him
Cuz no one believed him

Standing here
With open ears
The sky just forgets about me
My feet stand on my memories

Scraping the crust from my eyes
You scraped the scabs off my mind
And it’s oozing
The clarity’s soothing

@01.31.17 ebn

The other side

Eyes tear open
The sleepy seal
Of addictive dreams

Your baby mouth
Breaking a gasp
That leaves your heart
Aching
And racing

Ears stopped
With the dead song
Of being awake

The way back
Hidden in your head
Bleeding memories
Which aren’t real

A trail your feet can’t follow
A thirst your throat can’t swallow
A want teased by
A sweet scented sorrow

©1.21.17 ebn

Shortcut to love

In love with the idea of being in love
She prayed on my head
Tying a string between us
A ring around my neck
And the other on her finger
The magic trick of a marionette I endured
With good humor
While she worked out the kinks
Of her spell

And waiting patiently for the trick
It never occurred to me that it was I
How do you keep a fool in suspense?
Make him your consort

And though already made
I was made over
With spells spoken under me
        Moans of hope
        Promises that would keep in fertile soil
        Broken in the darkness of barren caves
Which offered only echoes of my own petitions
For reciprocity
Mocking me
But never freeing me from anticipation

She exploited my exceptional attention
To service
By making me her servant
And rendering me common

Leading me to the slaughter with a smile
And I was struck dumb by her beautiful mask
Disoriented by misplaced faith
Stayed like a dog leashed to a pole
Waiting while the wind sucked my life away

Losing my hair, my teeth, my sight
And getting fat in my arrested state
Held captive by the drug of a dream

Dying the death of a thousand cuts
By allowing her a shortcut to me.

©1.19.17 ebn

Feels like winter

Like standing in an empty apartment in Spring
the windows open and the last box under your arm;
Like your girlfriend just broke up with you
on a downtown sidewalk
while explaining why she’s holding hands with another guy;
Like standing in the middle of your living room
all dressed up with no place to go
because no one will call you back;
Like waking up between stations
the last one being yours
and the next one an hour away
when you were already running late for your job interview;
Like coming home after a funeral
and everything looking like the set from a show that’s been cancelled;
Like your car breaking down on the highway
and realizing your cell phone is out of juice;
Like pissing yourself in the middle of a full class
and listening to it drip from your seat to the floor
while the second hand moves like the hour hand;
Like a house with no water service;
Like a pink slip in your mailbox
first thing in the morning;
Like a doctor telling you you’ve got six months;
Like your child taking its last breath in your arms
after getting hit by a car
because you let go;
Like realizing God is a stranger
because you won’t look in the mirror.

©1.19.17 ebn

Born like that

now you can walk like a girl, if you sweet like that
or get a lazy lisp, if yo teef like that
and holding hands ain't nothing strange, when you scared like that
or when relying on some strength, when you weak like that

But a boy don't know bout pussy til he schooled like that
and kissing ain’t a lesson til you see that act
so to say that homosexuals are born like that
means that someone been molested from day one like that
whether physically or visually abused like that
or seduced by predators who on the sneak like that
be they family, friends, or strangers with a perverse knack
for preying on the gullible who trust the fact
that while doing dirty deeds may set their stomachs back
it’s okay to feel that way, it means you’ve got some back
And giving back to the one whose always had your back
makes you feel special when they like you back

but remember any craving ain't a natural fact
but a conditioning of circumstances running back
and once infected you don't expect to be condemned for that
so you normalize your sickness til its cool like that
indoctrinating others with unnatural facts
til a community of victims wave their flag like that
and forget that love and sex don't mean the same like that
and confused, define their views as love, and love like that

some sad folk say they gay to hide the pain like that
and some embrace the pain to spite the rain like that
but sad or gay, we’re all insane, and that’s a fact
we love to blame the victim for their ways like that
though we couldn’t save them from the shit that plays like that

we got soldiers lost they legs and can’t get them back
we got folks who lost they minds and they ain’t coming back
we got folks who steady lie and can’t tell truth from fact
we got folk been traumatized and can’t find they way back
we got children lost they innocence and can’t get it back

but they all people, we all people, shades derived from black
human beings whose humanity is under attack
and I pray someday we all will find our own way back
to remember we're all precious, we were born like that.

©1.18.2017 ebn

When the world ends

When the world ends
People will attend its funeral
Then go on about their business

©1.18.17 ebn

5:30

A heavy, fuzzy jacket weighs me down
While I’m alone
By myself, the noises of the others
In the hall, passing squeaks of sound
Like a house settling, the air is running
The light, its back to me
Ignoring me, so quietly
I’m early, tired, and wondering
If I’ve come to the right room.

©1.10.17 ebn

I am an extension of her

There was no thunder, the earth was no drum
But I heard the butterfly in her mind
Her eyes told her mouth not to utter a word
As they watched me, on guard, and on time

She swallowed my courage, demanding respect
With my back straight, I asked her permission
She nodded, and holding her breath, welcomed me
hesitant to offer her submission

Her ears were caressed by my lips but no words
Did I spend so seduce or deceive
And finding her mouth, I married our eyes
And spoke nothing to hear how she breathed

A soul ain't a body, and a woman is more
Than her physical space in a room
But a soul cannot speak without skin that is warmed
And a flower with reason to bloom

So I loved her, and loving her, discovered myself
And realized in our love, something sure
That she has always been an extension of me
As I am an extension of her

© 1.10.17 ebn

Fine hos

nigger navy comedy
the bait that’s lined with irony
while twitters sell
and cast a spell
on kids in grown folks skin

meanwhile dogs making their rounds
are hunting for a scent
some easy meal that they can steal
what’s said and not what’s meant

then dress up like the Son of Dog
to sermonize road kill
knowing that their audience
will never get its fill

and fools line up in Sunday’s best
eyes closed, mouths open for this mess
to swallow then regurgitate
like dummies on the laps of snakes

that’s right, they’re screwed
but they don’t care
cuz everybody’s ass is bare
so they just pay a premium
for named brand vaselinium

the smell ain’t hard to recognize
tickled assholes laugh and lie
and swear its not them that offends
but upper lips, and so you end
your arguments, and check your breath
wanting to speak life, not death
and in that pause they go to town
while you’re off guard, they beat you down
and all the lackeys understand
is to believe the winning hand
not the better one, cuz better failed
potential ain’t worth much when jailed
and so the truth that you believed
was trumped by doubt, you were deceived
and all that had their eyes on you
looking for a leader to
take them to the promised land,
put their faith in the hustle man
and grinning with a golden tooth
he sheared them sheep like pimps take youth
but as long as he has that beat and rhyme
folk will give up all their time
then look back at the end of days
and try to school their children’s ways
and paint themselves a fool that knows
still dressed in Sunday’s best
fine hos.

©01.10.17 ebn

Unwanted

they are not children
they are bruised fruit in a paper bag
kicked down the sidewalks of life
litter discarded casually out of the windows of
vehicles rushing through stop lights, stop signs,
and going nowhere

gathering in ditches
an unsightly refuse the culpable want
something done about
making a junk yard out of
what ought to be flourishing gardens

the wind scatters their pieces, their scent
drawing vultures and other scavengers
picking at the aftermath of abuse and neglect
on the side of the road

©01.10.2017 ebn