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