Poster Child for the Fatherless Son

I was taught to be warrior and wear heavy Armour. 

Keep you sword and shield close, so enemies never harm you. 

To hold your head up high, like royalty, like a prince. 

I’ve been training to be a fair, just king ever since. 

Dear *****,

I needed to go out into the world, and become a man. But because we went our separate ways, doesn’t mean I didn’t want you, it just means I didn’t know how to have you or deserve you. I just though you deserved to know. Until we meet again.

Love, Raymahl

Life, love and liberty? That’s what they told us.

We all get a chance to thrive? Yeah, that’s what they they sold us. 

We need top shelf accessories to match our appearance,

when our education and occupation comes from clearance. 

I feel the rise of the oppressed people is close, we’re near it. 

The rich few will stop at nothing just to stop it, they fear it. 

I’m surrounded by progress, resolution, revolution, 

but trapped in a country that acts like it don’t hear it.

I see firsthand demonstrations, bigotry from generations.

And my co-workers look and stare at me sometimes, like I’m the racist. 

I grit my teeth and bare it, raise my chin and face it. 

The ones that struggled before, give me the courage to make it. 

It’s something about the winter or the fall. That increases my pride, chauffeurs me to the rise before the fall. As I enter withdrawals, I reminisce on how it should’ve been or could’ve been. Reality’s cold grip forces my subconscious to scream, “we won’t go through this again. I hope you’re listening, last time it took a year to wash that bad taste out, just like Listerine.” I’ve been blessed with a heart that yearns for friendship and love. I was cursed with a heart that just can’t get enough. I’ve fashioned a heart that’s hardheaded and tough, but there’s a war going on inside and I’m just waiting on the right person to give me a tug. Problem is I’m see through, transparent. I’ve washed away those movie like depictions of romance, sans parents. Not to mention I’m cold as ice, so my search for purpose and warmth, is really foolish and quite errant. To me, it’s quite apparent, that what I really need, is re-birthing onto this earth as an idea, a seed. A chance to start over, to see, to breathe. Now I know we’re told you only get one chance, but to me, life is like a long slow dance. People will always try to cut in, and even try to butt in, and at the end of the night when I’m headed home, debating if I’ll be alone or cuddling. It’s about time I cut into my own life, my own story. And stop looking for someone to go to war for me. So I’m going on a journey, going on a quest, to rise from those ashes that formally was the phoenix. Renaissance, time of discovery. I’m hoping to mold myself into stronger man, whose a force of nature and not big and bothering. I want my spirit to match my entity that I walk around in, let the real me shine through, wait for me as I polish this diamond. 

Queen, you hold the power of the universe. Underneath your blouse and on the bottom of your favorite purse. Talk, think and act like all your movements carry deadly force. And never forfeit power due to stigma’s after intercourse.  

Never let them trick you into thinking you don’t have a choice. Speak with, knowledge of self and keep royalty inside your voice. If you don’t respect yourself, then do not ask for the opposite. Never let a man control you, but compliment what he’s coming with. 

I wish to mesh my soul with the fabric, at the seams of your being. 

So that our connection, sometimes, makes you feel like you’re dreaming. 

Can’t stop, can’t slow down, can’t impede my loving. 

Meet your needs, so replace me? Can’t. There is no other. 

I wasn’t always so passionate, so mature, so headstrong.

Thwarted many plans to love me, she couldn’t tell if my head was on. 

And now I’m ready for affection, to get loved, just to let her in. 

No one’s knocking on the door, so where the hell do I begin?

The sins of the father, have already come and gone.

Already sung that song, got guidance from reading psalms.

The demons inside my closet, already came out to play.

And the same father that left me, gave me courage to slay.

So I’m hoping that somebody can see the King in me.

Not prince Akeem in Queen’s, but still looking for my queen to be.

If our souls touch, she may even get a ring from me.

Happy regardless, but will it happen? I’ll just wait and see…

They say her hair is wrong, nappy and unpredictable. Why it won’t just stay strait, they ask.

And why is her nose and lips so big and round? And what purpose serves her big ass?

Not to mention, the tone and color of her skin. Whats in it that makes it look so dark?

And when she dances, where does she get her rhythm from. It must be the offbeat of her heart.

These are but a few questions they ask about my women; others gave them a stigma, and invisible mask to defend them.

Beaten down by society, and blamed for being broken. Men, put their hands around their neck, and choked them

and took away they’re voice, dignity and family. And asked to stand up straight, respectfully converse, and participate

in the castration of a nation, of a race, in a race, where the winner is determined by the hue of your face.

The television says clean water is important. The internet says global warming is important.

 The newspaper claims that the dollar is affected. I’m here to take a stand; our black women should be protected.

I’m saying that our black women deserve to be elected. As well as our black women deserve to be respected.

Respect doesn’t start from outside of black women. Respect starts from inside every black woman. 

“A rose is still a rose…”, yes you’ve heard that quote before. Black is strong and beautiful, this I now understand. As a young black boy, it was hard for me to comprehend. Like pitching in the MLB, but throwing fastballs underhand. Not to mention being raised by depressed, oppressed, dark skin people from heart of the south, jim crow taught us all phys ed & social studies, so that strength and beauty were judged alone by his mouth. When I stepped out the house, I was aimed at by all angles. Being called “black as midnight” or even a “tar baby”, was tough to hear from white kids, but eventually I got through it. But hearing the same from my people, made my affiliations hazy. Being worthless to the girls because I didn’t have that good hair, or lighter skin, had me on my knee’s every night, asking god why. I later learned to love myself and see my skin as a strength, so now I spread black love and knowledge of self til I die. 

Just like paper planes and 747’s, time flies. When I wish to time travel, I sit back and close my eyes. I remember being dropped off, Deltas helped me move in. Kissed mama on the forehead, said her son had work to do here. Made friends quickly, I was blessed with that. Even though some of those same friends would stab my back. But this isn’t to point fingers, this is to reminisce. About the people I met in college, that helped shape me into this.

I miss, acting a fool after class or the cafe. Hooping before dinner, test cramming, time moved so fast. We laughed, at the thought of graduation and being grown. But your fears become real, when you see people finish or sent home. We shared everything, literally, we shared everything we had. From food, to clothes, to shoes, to hoes, to money, hats and bags. Now we hardly speak, the world has split us into factions. The best time of my life, so at night I reenact it. 

They say if you do right, good things will to happen to you. 

The good die young, you’ll live long if there’s evil through you.

I’ve tried both, and neither left me satisfied. 

A piece of me dies, everytime, I cross over to the dark side.

I wonder what happened to my instincts, and intuition. 

My foresight, my forward vision.

And how i’m here, tattoo’d to this situation.

And if by college I fucked myself, masturbation. 

It seems these last months, I’ve picked up a few skills. 

To disregard everything, so pain, I can not feel. 

Learned a better focus, like headlights to a deer. 

And like a magician, I can make my hunger pains disappear.  

A burden to my friends, a burden to my family.

No money or company, is a burden to my sanity. 

Becoming a monster, soon, nobody can handle me.

And i’ll check myself into Dorthea Dix or Amityville.

I wake up, trying to remember what my dreams were about.

When I just wanna to take my mother out, and buy her a new house.

Now by dreams, I mean my closed eye picture show.  

Tried to decipher them, but damn, I just don’t know. 

For example, why I dream about women in my life?

Like going on dates, or weddings, the day she becomes my wife.

Or watching the sunset, holding hands on my candy car. 

Or living free in nature, similar to Avatar. 

Maybe I’m sending myself help, from another dimension. 

Or God’s telling me something, and I should pay attention. 

And how do I know, that he even cares. 

Or if the writers of the bible, just wanted people scared.

Everyone praises God, when things are going great. 

And cuss his ass out, when there’s no blessings on their plate.

For my accomplishments, they say thank God. Thats crazy, I’m pissed.

Like thanking Santa Clause, and not your parents for christmas gifts.

And when people fail, and no longer feel blessed and special.

They blame EVERYTHING, on this character, that they call The Devil.

For my ups and my downs, I take full responsibility.

But that doesn’t mean I mind, if God uses me. 

I ask people to pray for me, because mine doesn’t work.

They think I’m joking, laugh at me with a tiny smirk.

Like everyone is hollier than thou and I don’t matter.

Someone 3-way call Jesus, so I can ask him whats the matter.

Who did I anger, did I not stick to the plan.

Well I never knew it existed, but for it, I scoured the land.

Never had any talents, gifts or skills.

Being inadequate and abnormal, sulking because of how it feels.

When other people are good at everything, I sit back and watch.

Wishing I was better, to float through the years, days, minutes and tick-tocks. 

Whether you like or love me, it’s fine, your choice.

I just needed to let my soul, express it’s voice.  

As this stack of smoke, hits the back of my black throat, my mental travels through my memories, conversations, exact quotes. Times when I thought I knew it all, silly rabbit. Or times when I thought I had nothing, and I actually had it. Sitting in or living in my lap, like a daydream. Although you can’t appreciate it til you wake up, cold, sweating, shaking just like a fiend. People say they want love, when most can’t handle or deserve it. So until i’m blessed with my sole mate, I’ll sit back and observe it. The one that won’t complete me, but compliment my cipher. Who knows the real work, will start the first day that I wife her. Not just the first day or the first time that I decide pipe her. Or a some time later, if I tell her that I love or like her. I want to build a friendship, someone to tell my secrets to. Who won’t judge me or like daggers, throw at me my secret truth’s. I already have enough scars to tell a dozen war stories. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t want someone to go to war for me. I’ve been alone in many ways, most of my own doing. Now I’m over my fear of falling, I want reciprocal swooning. But as a man it weighs on me, that right now I cant provide. Some basic things for myself, so my instincts tell me to hide. I know a few great women, who for sure are winning, who bring out the king in me and leave me all but timid. But one of my downfalls, you could call my major flaw, is that I;m self-conscious of my mental and physical faux pas’s.