True Imposter


She sings the Church songs on Sunday
and tries to emulate the feeling the singer had
In its absence, she taps those soon-to-be
manicured nails on the table
and taps those eight years old Shirleys
that even God would question on the floor
She bows her head and damn near speaks
in tongues that even the tongue can’t decipher
She taps the mind to make it believe, like she does, that She is doing all the right things to make it into Heaven’s God’s grace
She can’t wait ’til Church is over
So She can resume how others see her
All along, She was planning her day

The Race is…


The race is
Going to the store
Seeing different colored cards
Being used by friends
Wanting one so badly
Hating life

The race is
Told by a pretty blonde
She knows her husband is
Bigger, stronger, faster
And better
Despite popular belief
The cause is her effect

The race is
Swearing children don’t imitate
Their atmosphere
Until words are spoken
at the wrong time
wants to blame the school
and sue

The race is
Seeking solace from church
And the Bible
Remembering only what
Is necessary
To shine light
On what is dark

The race is
Voting in a sheet covered
Small box with a drawstring
while choices are made on beliefs
Not righteousness
With all eyes in the back
the print on the page
is overlooked

The race is
known for Right versus Wrong
dying to be a martyr
never waivering
until

….ism


It’s so damn sad
when You’re in the middle
Crosshairs
Indecision
Joker
Seems everybody’s got their motives
Walking poker faces of votives
Dare You continue to play
The nerve of You walking away
It’s so damn sad
when it’s all about a look
Impassioned still gawkers
seem hooked
as to why their
interview wasn’t booked
Options
Those concoctions
they set to keep You just
where You nailed their perception
of reception
And they thought You
were making the first impression
Bid them adieu
before making a confession

It’s too late for Love, (When You never even told me You Love me)


It’s too late for Love, (when You never even told me You Love me)

 

Sitting there

And everywhere

I look for You

But you won’t care

 

When I want You

 

I walk alone

On the streets

After leaving home

It just repeats

 

When I need You

 

But it’s hard

To put all this

Down like playing cards

I always miss

 

A better number

 

Where do I fall

In line of the others

When I risk it all

Under the covers

 

Selfish Lovers

 

You should have opened up

And just said, “Ah”

Your love I held in my cup

Like you were on vacation in a spa

 

It’s about time

 

From what I see

You’re not ready, Love

‘Cause I know that it’s too late for love

When you never even told me you Love Me

 

And what I feel

Listen carefully

I wish this thing of ours was real

And you cared for me

But now it’s just too late for love

When you never even told me, You love me

 

I could spend my time

Making dinner

Try to pour the wine

But you look thinner

 

My, You’re changing

 

When You go out

I’m never knowing

What that’s all about

You watching me glowing

 

Now, it’s my turn

 

So, I clean up nice

I have to say

Loosen that vice

You held at bay

 

I’m somebody too

Somebody new

 

Why stop me now

When you always ran

  1. Somehow

I’m using your words, “Yes, I can!”

 

You Did This

 

Honestly

I wish you had rose above

But it’s just too late for love

When you never even told me, you Love me

Good Night Glory


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Let me tell you a story

About a young buck South

In his nighttime glory

Getting high off his tunes

To later use one or two spoons

Minding his own business

Short of a neighborhood

Where his own kin lived

But that wasn’t enough

Came a lone-star stranger

Hoping to strut his stuff

Alerting the Po-Po

About his urge to blow

One whose smile was hard to glow

Stay back, they said don’t go

Like jumping from a rooftop

He made the kid stop

The pistol told a different story

For the cop and

Lone-Ranger gunning down

The nighttime glory

 

Stand Your Ground

Was the law they found

To cover up gagged and bound

And rid themselves of a Bassett Hound

Happens almost everyday

When night takes a walk in the day

The wrong way

Nighttime brings about fear

When things become missing it’s all too clear

That it must have been them

The ones who used to swing from a limb

But what’s past is past

Not in the midst of a law built to last

Maybe it’s just a slap in the face

Getting back at the darkness who won the race

Shame on America

When an unjustified death won’t disparage ya

A stalker is the aggressor

It’s doesn’t take a rock scientist or professor

To see that

It’s still about dollar signs

When a repressed Black man is bombarded with wines

And spirits

Damn near Whip-Its

Keeping his head underwater

He barely feeds his daughter

Let alone his son

Who’ll always be on the run

Because the Judge became executioner

Placing the blame on a juror

Who arrived with furor

After a brief tour of

The decision she would rise above

Six out of twelve

That was all was needed to send the dead to Hell

The Defense made a rinse

Out of the Prosecution probably made to straddle the fence

Jesus died for the Jews

Saved a man with a name who helped hide all the clues

With Justice

Because it just is

Now they all can take a pill

Shoot at will

Aim to kill

Yet and still

Until

A lighter shrill

Gets a fine thrill

From Tonto at the mill

Then nighttime glory

Gets paid for his fatal story

Stand Your Ground Law

Shole does have a fatal flaw

Those who lied

About what they saw

Need only be despised

By their mental claw

We know they saw much more

Women telling untruths so their butts won’t sore

Or

Men of his peers

Who supported a cause like one against steers and queers

Is it still envy toward the young buck

Who has all that hangin’ and still down on his luck

Whoever wrote “The Message”

Needs to come out of hiding and re-write the passage

Of the Black man

Who can’t even stand

When there’s a rule

That calls him a fool

For being a tool

In a tar pool

Even if he has gone to school

Where is Glory?

 

Stupid is as Stupid does! Or does Insensitivity breed Insensitivity?


Are NFL football players public figures like a Syracuse Mayor? 

 

When NFL football players, who are selected by a group of men to serve their teams don’t deliver a return on the powers-that-be investment, they generally leave a sour taste for their fans on and off the playing field.  Take for example cornerback, Chris Culliver, for the San Francisco 49ers.  When Culliver made the ultimate scathing remarks about gay football players not being “welcomed” in their team’s locker room, many believed this young person had definitely crossed the line.  As confident as he assumed his position, the comment held much weight as so-called straight men playing in Super Bowl XLVII were being likened to Goliath and the closeted gay men held hands with David.  Culliver and his band of cronies would even deny taking part in a near “It Gets Better” campaign.  For a moment, gasps could be heard around the world as the 49ers drew closer to triumph.  Ultimately, Culliver and his Goliath brethren lost the match to the lone vocal David, Brendon Ayanbadejo, linebacker for the victorious Baltimore Ravens on February 3, 2013.  While there are surely Christians who believe homosexuality is an abomination, Ayanbadejo’s good over-powered Culliver’s evil.  Where was the leader or leaders who elected the bashing Culliver and his fellow mates at the time of the foul attention they garnered?  No one said that Culliver was wrong for his poor choice of words during his interview with Artie Lang.  It was almost as if the 49ers were sending a message directly to Ayanbadejo that “any sissies on the field are going down…”  Isn’t it time for the media to make Ayanbadejo’s crusade for Gay Rights and his Baltimore Ravens victory an example to all who oppose gay players in the NFL?  Would a 49ers victory at Super Bowl XLVII have been a slap in the face of adversity?  No doubt.  Isn’t it even time for team owners to speak up and say, “We will not and do not tolerate imposing fear on any player who can and wants to play football”?  In no way has it been shared and cared that Ayanbadejo is himself a gay player for the NFL.  However, if he is, has he not already become the “Jackie Robinson of the NFL?”  Not only should the owner or owners of the Baltimore Ravens applaud Ayanbadejo’s behavior on and off the field, the general public should do so as well.  “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” is obviously running amok in the testosterone-enraged locker rooms that Christians have helped to support.  Are club owners held to a majority view-point?  Maybe so.  For the love of the game, whether a man or woman can play the game should take precedence over one’s lifestyle or “way-of-life.”  Like any public figure, serving for the betterment of good should be the motto.

 

But like the NFL’s lack of cultural adversity, there are other figures or officials, like Syracuse Mayor, Stephanie Miner, who choose to ignore those who elected her to her position.  Like NFL players are employees to their team, a secretary or personal assistant to the Mayor should not overstep their bounds and become selective in which messages require a higher priority for the Mayor.  It may be a given that the Mayor receives all kinds of phone calls from voters and non-voters alike.  But when a call is made and a message is left with a secretary regarding discrimination or misuse of funds, the Mayor should extend the courtesy of returning the call.  What a scapegoat for the Mayor to say that she was never made aware of the attempt to expose the wrongdoing.  Again, like the abhorrent players in the NFL, a non-customer service oriented Mayor shows her true colors in a way comparable of flipping off endearing voters.  Having become interested in politics at an early age, Miner may have inherited or obviously enveloped a “Fake it till you make it” mentality toward the people of Syracuse, New York.  Although Miner is seeking a second term as Mayor in the Democrat majority-ruled city, her not so glorious performance record may go unnoticed by the people.  While the word “Democrat” or democracy is synonymous with being “for the people,” it is not yet discovered who or what Miner serves or supports.  Not returning phone calls is just one way to explain her ill towards the non-private sector.

 

A public figure is one whose life and behavior are the main focus of intense scrutiny and public interest.  Whether viewing a game on regular television or paying monies to attend an intense match.  As tensions brew on the football playing field, so do them inside City Hall or during the Mayor’s public and private addresses.  But as serving for the majority is a key issue, bestowing one’s own personal beliefs become more hurtful to those who are blindsided as fans.

Your Thousand Words


What good are a thousand words

When I can’t say them the way

I want to say them to you?

What meaning could you possibly get

without my voice in front of them?

How many different ways

Could I ever display

Before you get dismayed

Or think you’ve been played?

Tell me,

Have you ever done the same

To somebody you prayed for?

 

What good are a thousand words

If you can’t understand

That they are my solemn vow to you

Without ever raising or chasing my tone

Causing you to be alone?

 

A thousand words

Could turn to curds

Even sung by birds

If they are never heard

 

The thousands of others

Captured and released lovers

Weren’t worthy of your presence

Though I can’t give you presents

This is my confession

Your love has taught me a lesson

 

A thousand words

Would be too many to sing

But if I cut them into thirds

Still, would it be joy they bring?

 

But how about I say three of them

Every day

A different way

Even while we play

Before I go away

I still mean I’ll stay

Cause at home is where I want to pray

And lay

After I bring you a tray

Of your favorite foods and ask you if you’re okay

Before I hear you say

Stay by me always

 

Maybe

I’ll save some words

For other songs

I want you to hear and not fear

Making more rights instead of wrongs

From sun up to dark

Walking hand in hand in the park

 

Don’t fault me

If I can’t keep score

I just want to be

Your thousand words and much, much more