keeping up with jones

photo by: kwesi abbensetts "no. 1"

it is not hard to love.
it is not hard to live.
life is not hard.
to square my fingers from the circle they once shaped is proving difficult.
i can not let go.
so i sit here not yet sure if i really want to.
but that's life isn't it.

daylight saving me

i consciously gave up poetry today
i refused to write
after my turkey bacon i wiped ten lines of poetry from my chin and sucked a metaphor or two from my fingers
the butter from the flaky biscuits and grease from the bacon was just that good
i refused to acknowledge it as anything other than grease
because i promised i'd save the next poem for you
hang it on your wall
stick it behind a magnet and post it to your refrigerator
you can even carry it tightly in your panty liner
just take it and love it hard
mars ain't the kind of place to chill on stoops
besides there are none
don't save me no poetry
this daylight shouldn't have been saved
we were fine believing there wasn't enough time to love one another before the sun came
this extra hour is proving inconvenient
but i'll love you anyway
just slower

i felt too righteous today and was scared to write anything but my name on a signature line
they'd misunderstand me and sequal the bible and i'm not ready
and i don't need nobody writing about me and my misfortunes
and equally i want no one using my struggle as a guide for their own
so i didn't write you all day out of fear
i've only given up poetry in protest and out of love
i'm protesting something right now
or at least at the end of this one
i don't want to be anybody but we
you me
anybody but we
and in spite of my me being slightly off balance
i'ma love you anyway
just like yesterday 1968

my mama said paper brings roaches to the house
so i've always asked for plastic
i've always asked for nothing but honesty
i've always asked this of everyone
even the bag boys
double bag my shit 'cause i can't trust that

i never touched her heart : poem eight
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

i placed every finger except my pinky in places her mama told her to keep from boys
and put my head in places her mama told her to put powder on
i didn't want her to feel loved by me
we both believe in truths
no one could love another in this life
on this planet
not today my textbook and calendars says
i needed her to be touched
i need her to understand me by what this calendar says is tomorrow
she loves the computer coded me
the winter coated me
she aint yet met summer
not with me
but she's waiting and hoping he's different
me too
the ones after this coded coated me are all different
they convince them i lied then occupy space on their fingers
a leash on their left hand
it was only right that they left
they're good women for leaving
i've never learned the art of blaming properly thanks to doreen walker who became doreen wells and blamed my real father quietly

i saved space on her left pulsating chest
and into that space every follower poured themselves fingertips first - reciprocating
and that's all she ever really wanted

fuck crayola - they lie (to the man on the train and the woman beside him)
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

there's a white man sitting across from me
he don't see me though
he don't see color
i am color
i am that blue coming out of the shitting end of miles' trumpet
he knows why coltrane heard voices we never knew about
the reason he played with his back to the audience
coltrane - not the white man

she could play the wife
he look at her
and they exit

photo by: kwesi abbensetts

let's go to ireland (for jean-michel)
poem four

he was painted on
basquiat like on crutches
so fuck hawaii

photo by: kwesi abbensetts

this time (dedicated to time & maha who've split i think)
poem three

save a little for me shorty
save me short
the most romantic thing i've ever seen was when he ran across the basketball court after he killed the joint and blew it into her mouth
he promised he wouldn't leave earth without her
somewhere among the dippers and footprints left behind by the lies the government told they still smile and laugh at shit they can't control
it was a promise he gave her
not a 'if it's possible' or 'maybe i can'
he deflated his lungs and breathed 16 seconds into hers
this was short
this was them this time
this time

photo by kwesi abbensetts (photo of @intelligentsias)

the blacker
poem two

who said prayer required prostration
the things she wishes for when her eyes are closed are no different than those she laughs about peddling down flatbush
sitting on a stoop holding onto candy wrappers and atm receipts
please remain quiet as she builds a city of god on the blacker side of her eyelids

photo by: kwesi abbensetts

building something
poem one

i left pieces of my skin on the old wooden boards
and a little blood on the bricks
don't ever build a box for me again
don't stare at me
don't paint me and frame me
if you must do it
paint me on a passing wind
an ebb
a flow
a freestyle a beat a fourth verse in hip hop
but only if you must

ramadan kareem!

well...not yet...but in a few hours, right?
so how should we celebrate?

i guess like the rest of those who will be celebrating.
you down to join me on this fasting mission?
i mean, really, why not? except for that fact that you can put down a ham sandwich quicker than precious' mom, mary.

from august 11 - september 10 you can regain focus on your goals, thoughts, dreams, past accomplishments. perhaps even bring some sort of calm to your life.
say whaaaaaat?!
fasting can do all that, you ask.
yeah.

ramadan fasting is from sunup to sundown. NO food, NO drink, NOTHING going in that's wet or edible and/or isn't life saving. you'll be hungry and thirsty - but you won't die. i promise. what i'm proposing we fast from outside of the sunup-sundown ritual...[feel free to follow me. or feel free to just keep up]:

-foods we know aren't good for us.
-sex [with others and with self] O.o
-ignorance.
-friends who aren't good for us.

let's begin at midnight, shall we.

let me know if you're with me, and maybe we can start a blog or something to keep track for the fun of it.

------

to aid me in the process i'll be doing another poetry challenge.
i hope you enjoy.

again - we begin at midnight.
let's go.

30 poems in 30 days
day 10: april 16, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


meet me uptown

this ain't one of them corners mami
brown skinned girls from way uptown ain't got nothing to shake
no estoy vendiendo el pecho
spanish babies go hungry at night above the bodegas
and maria dances with her eyes closed in the corner of the room
maria maria
way uptown willie learned to dance
muevase los pies willie
you hear that music muchacho
and if you close your eyes long enough you'll swear tito never died
meet me uptown mami
take the one or the three
funcione con y no falte su tren
i'll be uptown outside the corner deli where luis and ramon traded punches after trading looks over maria
maria maria
encuentreme uptown
meet me up top
let's dance baby

30 poems in 30 days
day 7: april 13, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


naima

i wasn't sure how long she'd wait
so i loved as hard and as fast as i could in case we needed to redefine forever
i gave her the best ten years in a matter of minutes
in the end we had grown accustomed to each other's face and living lifetimes in weeks
we must have been born again seven times between dinner and breakfast
she'd fix the wrong bacon when we stopped speaking
and laugh as i bit into it knowing i cared more about my soul than i did her
she didn't understand the whole pork thing
they never do
but i can speak volumes lectures and tongues on jesus
around her mom she'd turn into peter
i didn't exist in real life
not after she found the emails love letters phone logs and pictures
none addressed to her
none mentioning her
pork and church followed each encounter
in the name of jesus i stopped sleeping with other women
i'd come home when i got tired
makes no sense to wake up nailed to a cross she carried
happily she carried
and just short of 9 months i was born again
despite his current self
despite the shoes with shards i left behind and the beds i've burned
i was born again
and i will not be my god
but i will give him one to believe in
the book wasn't strong enough to hold the door open for me so she left
there are no corners waiting on us to meet
i wasn't sure how long she'd wait
and my sense of time is now all fucked up
if forever is now what in jesus' name is seventeen minutes
put your phone on vibrate and put it in your lap
i'll call when i'm coming and you can come too
i'll be there in 5 minutes

30 poems in 30 days
day 4: april 10, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


conjure girl

the church can't be bombed again
i lay my lips on her neck in the third pew between sermon and alter call
if there is one
there will be those church fans and fans of church
i left my bible on her alter
my bible being fairly new in relation to hers
in relations with her we did biblical things
i just want to love you like it say in the bible
conjure girl stole my heart and strands of my hair
so i cut my locks
and had them changed
cut my dreams short in case she expected routine while we slept
she'd visit me there often but in my absence
i stood around the corner watching the watcher
i just want to love you like it say in the bible
ain't shit in your good book about what we do
learning to spell out this relationship
learning to spell out these roots
conjure girl sits in the dark with my lips on her neck but my head on the staff
she's got a way with words
a siren of sorts
she spells
she spells
k-n-o-w your r-o-o-t-s
i give her the flowers
hoping these tu-lips can do more than speak life into her collarbone
hoping black roses meant more than one thing
she'd know
and she'd still love me
true or not

30 poems in 30 days
day 2: april 8, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)



the hunger:

the jacket was for show only
the pockets weren't real
small slits cut in to hold just as much as he'd been able to naked
his sack was big he believed
his nuts somehow bigger
but he kept his eyes closed in the locker room
and his mouth closed at the dinner table
he had no say so in that matter
ain't no coincidence about his sack
his nuts dropped and his hustle grew
ain't gonna be no more immaculate conceptions
one dead rabbit is enough
he rapped with niggas who made lefts at forks and all the bad decisions when the right ones seemed so easy
there's much to be said about the god of them all
but between those scriptures he needed his name mentioned and everything due him put on front street
easy street
the block where he grew up
and nuts
it's nothing to stare into the eyes of the severed head
but nuts seem to go unnoticed when the eyes of the patriarch are staring at you over fried apples biscuits and apple butter
no - the jacket was for show
the joke at christmas to hide the part of his body least exposed
for fucks sakes
who puts on a hoodie with their fingers crossed?
no one asked what he wished for that one day over the fire
the candles
the candles
the candles
the party wasn't really his
the candles
no more lights around here thanks to the story of jesus
god don't come around here no more
not since the last dead rabbit
got him a girl baby
immaculately named jennifer
what you gonna put in your pockets now son?
your hands don't fit in the slit
and everything else you got will get you killed
or rico'd upstate
where god spends his summers
and his kid's adolescent years
what's in those pockets?

30 poems in 30 days
day 1: april 7, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)


she spoke

she spoke
not the bullshit conversation starters and 'p' pronunciations full of spit and caked up corners
but true to life shit
parted lips are not made for whispering
legs parted at the knees and the beautiful spaces unoccupied between the top of her thighs
triangular
she's been waiting on me and the sun to rise for the last few days
fuck fuck fuck she'd scream to the same god acknowledge just moments before
something about him visiting whenever we'd fuck
make love
fuck
fuck
fuck
hair tangled so my hands would never leave
eyes open just in case
she wanted to watch me stay
come
something about the man she hopes i'd never know or grow into
i thought they were the same
just something about my mustache that helped her tell the difference
twist baby
remove my eyes from my pen and tablet
part your lips and legs
speak it
she spoke

-me

a lot of girls be thinking my words are about them.
this is not to get confused. this one's for you:

you remind me of the poet i was when we slept short-ways on a twin bed up north
nothing fancy - just the shit we felt made us poets
before we understood government assassination was a real threat and you were the only one who knew my phone was tapped by the ethiopian people
it was serious
i'm thinking of taking up refuge or at least playing john legend's old shit until i feel like a poet again
or at least a dancer
take up arms
raise fists
remove skirts boots and american eagle denim
hoping for at least two and a half good strokes before we pull the condom out of pocket
barbed wire statues the holocaust and turkey bacon
thanks for the jay z mix tape or cd
why are we not calling cd's mixed cd's?
i love you now as much as possible given the circumstances
but you know you still my nigga
you're the only non nigga i call nigga
insert laugh
exhale bullshit
change names
you remember benny
you were there when benny was born
and i assume you'll be there when the poet dies
left wrist tatted
still
i
love
you
deep

-me


-----

i'm feeling big. not in the sense of having weight, but colossal.
know what i mean.

i told you i get my best thinking done in the bathroom - usually the shower.
well, i hit the shower today and i was thinking about all i want to do this year, and all i've done in years past, and i wanted to pat myself on the back, but i had just finished my 100 pushups for the day and my arms weren't able to reach back there without a bit of pain.

and i reserve the right to boast.
i worked hard - so fxck those who aren't able to take it.

side note: the only people pissed off at other people bragging are the people not doing what the should be doing to get what they want. feel me?

and there are a few people i want to thank for my current success and inspiration.
they know who they are.
THANK YOU.
see you at the winner's table.

-----

speaking of winning:

history is written by those who win.
so if you're not winning, don't worry about the legacy you're leaving behind - it will be forgotten.

i've changed a few of my goals to fit one of the ultimate goals.
it's not to live forever - but it is to create something that will.
and those of you who know me know how strongly i support education and educating the masses.
and many of you know about my 2013 goal of opening THE SCHOOL OF THE RIGHTEOUS.

it's actually coming along great. i love it.
it's what i plan to leave behind.
that will live forever - either the school itself - or the teachings of the students.

-----

and lastly:

our words do not belong to us - but to those who need it.
it's no surprise to me when people call me an "axxhole" because i know what i say and how it comes across.

but i write those words for those who need to be entertained throughout the day.
not those sitting at a cubicle saddened by the little and big hand on the clock...
but folks who NEED a laugh today because they may have nothing else to hold on to.
so i need them to hold on to those laughs - sometimes in exchange for hope.

feel me?

so pay it forward.

peace.

so it's post-midnight and i'm up cooking healthy before this workout i'm about to get myself into.
jesus help me.

side note: just because i say jesus' name often - it does not make me christian. no more than my saying 'holy mackerel' makes me a believer in religious fish.

so there had to be a break in the sorrow.
and of course it happened during my religious experience in section 213 k-4 at the baltimore arena when jay rose from the stage.
i mean - how can you hit a jay-z concert and not be moved spiritually?
religious folks: fall back - i do not think he is god - but i would put him close to youknowwho.

so - once again - thanks to @fearcediva for setting that out for the kid.
woooooo!

and if jay wasn't enough - the white chick in the bright lime green biker shorts with the lace panties that were a centimeter away from peeking out the bottom of the shorts would have been entertainment enough. then she pulled out her blunt and offered it to all the black folks around her.
& you know how we are!
"fuck no i ain't smoking after you!"

-----

and lately i've been feeling kind of self conscious about my gear.
not too much - because i'm still cooler than a bunch of the mofos i see on a daily basis & my attitude and personality alone will carry me far...

it's just that i want a change.
i feel like i'm loitering.
so i've been thinking about a few different styles.
and i'm going to revert back to my college days.
before everybody was on pharell & kanye's dxck - that was me.
walking the yard looking like an abercrombie & fitch window model & shxt.

so i'm headed back in that direction.
still on my thrift store game though.
damn right! thrfit store.
that's where i've gotten my members only jackets ($7 a piece)
and my bird pants & 85% of my gear.

-----

so i start shooting my film next week i think. i hope.
and also the reality show i was offered to produce here in the district.

this should be pretty fun.
when i get the greenlight to give you more information you will get it.
i'm trying to be a fxcking success story.

i'm a provider, girl.
and i love you.

-----

and tonight i rode the greenline to anacostia
and i sat behind a beautiful young (mid-20's) mother of a 1 year old.
and i felt like writing something before my stop came:

between gallery place & anacostia:

that's your daughter crying
the costume in your hand proves it
different kinds of tricks though
she won't believe in the same holidays as you
there will be tricks with treats
she will use plastic bags given out at school
no gucci bags asked for monthly - weakly
gucci symbols don't look like that
i know that look on your face
that look of revelation
reveal to the world you weren't as grown as you wished yourself to be
but there have been promises made
between the time you first met her daddy and the last time you fucked with no bag and no pills
you promised she'd be raised differently
she'd wear pigtails forever
and she'd enjoy kids meals a bit longer
because deep down
you know that's how it should have been done the first time

-----

and now i'm waiting on my tilapia and broccoli to finish so i can work out afterwards.
if you want the recipe to any of the foods i make, i will def hit you up

and maybe even start posting them.

-----

and i end with:

i love you.