A Black Man’s Views On (REAL) Black Problems

Image: A man walks past a burning police vehicle The forecast calls for rain

mixed with a little bit of snow

The winds come and go

and they hum a slow beat

along the trees and buildings they meet

The puddles, birthed by the rain

overflowing and blanketing the lane

in a mirror like sheet

The blood of this city

the sins of this city

are the carried by the rain

The cries of the child

and their footsteps measured in miles

are washed away by the rain

I write it down

I write it all down

as the rain pour

drowns out the abused mother’s crying sounds

Pull up on my block and see what I’m made from

See the bullets and lifeless eyes on the ground

and find a witness? There are none

No hope for the teenage girl

trying to be pretty but classy

cause the others are jealous

and insults they hurl

Night and day, she’s hounded by boys

just looking for another jerk off session

winding their arms up like little toys

Loud mouth politicians in ugly pant suits

try to tell you about the struggle

but they never tell you what the struggle is

It’s more than drugs, it’s more than crime

it’s why we need drugs and crime in the first place

Broken families

from dad’s who want to play both sides

and mindless school principals

who are a waste of everyone’s time

Putting a white man in charge

doesn’t take away

from the fact that we still act as if

we’re slaves

Gold chains and ebonics

a tiny reminder of the old days

when a black family could be rotted

with a bid, a token

and that vicious cycle

it has yet to be broken

The city stares at me

they say

The city sits watching me

at play

What I knew

and they could never see

was already drowning thee

and what they know

grasping which, I was slow

and I sunk under the currents heavy flow


(Ever notice how there’s almost no national media coverage regarding black on black crime, particularly involving inner city incidents? Did you even know that four people were arrested after TWO non-fatal shootings in Baltimore, today alone? Bet the Today Show didn’t talk about it. Well, I did, and since I tire of people who have no concept of the struggle trying to tell you how it is, I decided to tell you how it is. Not above the battlefield, but ON it.)



I’ll Open My Heart Since You’re The Fever I Can’t Sweat Out


The doctor peels back my skin

to see what I’m made of

Cook, he says, there’s a lot in here

you should be aware of

he’s nearly died

countless times

and attempted self-medication

with girls and rhymes

has him comatose

who knows

how long he has to live

once slow to breathe, taking life in

the lungs replenish at a fever pitch

and the added weight

of depression and diversions

will soon bust the sitch

of a heart, punctured long ago

with the snap of closed doors

and punctuality in unanswered messages

I now know, I’m a freak

and if there’s one face he had to meet

it would be yours

because for some unknown reason

his greatest addiction was the widest door

infinity could ever open

and with your fantastical spirit

his soul was broken


at the kindness of your ways

and the hope you instilled

to cross paths

one day

but there is a fever

he can’t sweat out

and as much as he writes

he is plagued by the doubt

one wish above them all

one hope to drown out the storm

and instill calm

in a shipwrecked soul

kindred spirits

beat of the same magic

and with a simple touch

this scene can become less tragic

let her mouth

form the cradle of his rebirth

and let your voice be small in content

but rich in worth

Miss, bring her close

and have her speak

in silent whispers

and make sure your name

he will always remember



What Only Soul Mates Can Hear


 Neon lights

line my trip home

passing by dimly lit homes

with my head, alone

in silent wonder

at how one word

can tear a life asunder

ripping hearts out

at the seams

and replacing them

with incredible dreams

never cultivated, never imagined

but fulfilling every wish ever fathomed

as I write, looking at the stars

just passing by

I think of you, sparking somewhere far away

with swooping motions you draw me a picture

and at first, I don’t understand

but with a soft voice, she takes my hand

and pulls me close to her beating heart

suddenly, I see it

I see it all

and I love it

these stars have been aligning

for years

and with the sun no longer shining

I can see it clearly

with silent words

that only soul mates can hear

I plant a soft kiss on each cheek

and put the sword to each of our fears


Walking Against The Traffic: My Life On The Spectrum


The lights are everywhere

and they bother me

too many, too sudden

and glaring bright, they make it hard to see

the cars speed past, kicking up dust

along the way

they stare at me in silence

but I have nothing to say

they eat into my soul

these people I don’t know

and I know it’s because

I walk against the traffic flow

I walk against

the expectations

and in defiance I heighten

their aggervation

I am silent when others are loud

and loud when they will not speak

because I will tell you what I believe

but not when you expect me to come around

I speak out for my fellow autistics

but you won’t see me on a march

because that is just one day

and we are handicapped for life

so in my words, I leave these messages

hoping you will see the light

and treat us right

and while the windows of your souls

reflect our ugliness, our loneliness

I believe that less

can be more

when you are silent, and step back

you see the whole

of what you’re here for

sophomoric insults

and childish laughter

goes for naught

as I make the most of these days

and against the flow of traffic

I will continued to walk

Escaping The Silent Wave Of Anxiety and Struggles With People



Fell into bed, tired as could be

not from back-breaking work

but my Aspergian brain, you see

as an introvert, people tire me

and as courteous as I try to be

there are some days

where my pillow is all I want

I can walk for miles and miles

without breaking a sweat

but one too many people

and my nerves tingle

with an anxious fret

hard countenance

begins to melt from electric pain

and thoughts start racing

leaving dusty tread along these tracks

and all sensibilities desert in a manic frenzy

as if I were insane

there are some days

where I’ll do nothing but write

until I struggle to see anything

not lit with a computer back light

each word is a demon smitten

and each line is an apple bitten

in defiance of God and man

don’t eat this fruit, too late

I’m already on my third plate

I have no one, no one who knows these fears

I have no one, no one who sees these scars

they’re for me

and me alone

so I close myself up

inside my dusty home

like the Cancer that I am

I bury my head in the sand

and sleep away the days

until I’m ready

to walk that way


The Last Motion Of My Aspergian Tragedy


Long after the sun has gone down

and eyes have fallen to asleep

do I walk alone in my home

and my thoughts begin to creep

up the walls

down my spine

in and out this mind

that’s always thinking of the next rhyme

I open the door, and feel the midnight breeze

smell of crabs and shellfish, a salty sea

in my nostrils

and sitting down on cracked concrete steps

I let it all out

these steps saw windows shattered one Fourth of July

these steps saw a nest of baby robins go goodbye

these steps saw my brother taken away

these steps saw my mother betrayed day after day

these steps rarely saw me as a young boy

lost in Chronicles of Narnia, and Thomas toys

and growing older, I found a knack

for filling rooms with wooden railway track

and summer’s went by, without a care

of what I would become, or where I might go

just let me grab my gloves and boots and play

all afternoon in winter snow

but when I turned thirteen

my life become hell, and a fever dream

plagued me night and day

not knowing who I was

and why I might say things that really hurt

it was honesty to me, I knew nothing else

I didn’t care if others felt bad

I was a mess, a living tragedy

until one night something moved inside of me

a desire to be heard

a desire to be known

a desire to create something on my own

afraid to try something new, I wrote slowly at first

and terribly, at that

it was a bunch of seldom used words and crap

because I didn’t know how to listen to my soul

I didn’t know how to play my role

and silence turned to rage

at the sight of what I become

new diagnosis, but same fears

and newly cried tears

lined the storybook of my life

but then I met you

along with others in the blogosphere

and with tender words, you brought me near

and showed me the way

how to write with passion with poise

and how to speak in quiet whispers

yet cause a great noise

I became a better writer

thanks to you

and I learned more about myself

and I knew that while I may be on the spectrum

and slower than the rest

I was always encouraged by you

to give my best

I am grateful to everyone I’ve met online

because you gave me a second life

and bought me more time

to discover who I really am

you saw the real me,

I just needed to see it myself

you knew the real me,

I needed to take it off the shelf

I wear it proudly, I wear it with honor

this Aspergian label of mine

and regardless of your expectations

I will let it shine

and as I crawled back into bed

the sun’s light arising

I smiled inwardly

these heartbeats, I’d no longer be denying


Something About Snow That Got Me Way Too Emotional And Poetic


 I’m back! I’ll write about what I’ve been doing for Saturday’s post, but for now, here’s a bit of what I’ve been working on lately.


Scattered remains

of frozen souls

tossed and turned

by radioactive waves

of signals of failed love

like ships entwined

by tentacles of legendary sea demons

they were shattered above

and below

left to bake on jagged rocks

as flocks of mermaids

shining greenish blue tails

mock their sophomoric fails

naked to the very marrow

their thoughts become narrow

and bent on seconds

and evaporating

as ice at the blush of summer’s cheeks

they hold on to everything they held dear


and falling to us

we call it snow

and at our delight

their journey

is made complete

and their eyes

can close in peace


Dial Tones Of A Car Crashed Heart

www. magic 4 walls. (with com (in love with a ghost

Silent calls

from a treeless hill

on a wind-less night

echo through the deep valleys

and careen down the mountain sides

the voice is weak

repelled by opposing sound waves

and the strength of one’s beliefs

but the heartbeat is strong

fighting both sun and moon

to reach the nest of its destined lover

a voice has an end

but the heart will descend

to below the Marina trench

and higher than any comet

to join two in love

you cannot stop it

Tonight, unlike most nights

I’m really listening

if I could hear

for mere moments

then this heart

could be made unbroken

by the wings of my fellow soul

my lover

she’s out there

there’s too many for there not to be

maybe she’s writing too

or coming through

on the dial tone

of this car crashed heart


Six Minutes And Forty Two Seconds


 Underneath artificial lights

of lamps down the steep drop

of York Road

I called again tonight

to listen in

to this newly discovered soul

Someone says she’s always happy

to hear this voice

but it’s only truly real

when you listen for yourself

and hear the elation

of two minds appreciating the creation

of something neither one could have foreseen

even with the wisest of sages

We speak briefly

of school, writing, and weather

it’s short, but sweet

and ever-increasingly joyous to think of this person

I have yet to even meet

Why? I don’t know

My guess is as good as the distance I can throw

but I am thankful for her heart

to be open towards mine

for hands that craft bittersweet rhymes

and for a mind

that in some ways

is like mine


Just Bring My Anna Back


You were riveted in delicious greed

to see her pale green eyes look your way

but quaking when another caught her sight

I was shorter, fatter

and much less attractive

but we fought the same fight

so she floated past you

and took my hand

our veins overdosed on the same light

anger overtook feeble continuity

and shattered your glass

while the other gents, at your immaturity, gave a hearty laugh

eight months later, I gave my heart

she gave her hand

and into the unknown we ran

but you never gave up

never gave up the taste

and someone else’s love you decided to chase

one night

dreams full of doubt

the flame went out

she did nothing to you

and is nothing for you

but your courage is weak

and intelligence you lack

snow on the tracks

and blood on the path

just please bring

my Anna back