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