This is a poem I wrote from 2014, I think it’s long so purchasesildenafil buckle yourselves in…
I used to have a thicker vocabulary
But now I leave myself…
To be lost in my own thoughts
Is this what it means to be old?
To have once grasped the meat of life
And l o o s e n your grip
Ready to slip into the next strife?
Content without knowing the lessons of old?
Knowledge is promiscuous in the fact that it shakes itself at you
Yet when you attempt to grasp it fades into transparence
Like scars of the days past
We organisms continue to evolve.
S L O W L Y we give all of our specs to mother nature, in hopes of mutual respect
We continue this endless circle
Until we circle and circle and circle into a ball
And within these inner circles what is it all?
The entitled eagles that determine the crows that give birth on this earth are undeserving
Of the mere “girth” that they dare call “exclusive”
Is actually intrusive upon the lives of the dimes in the dozen
With no interest in the lying, or the mistresses to the husbands
Negroes like me myself and I
Couldn’t care less of those “bests”
Even if we tried.
The sacks of flesh we call our temple are more concerned with just,
Which is why in a moment in time, these words of mine
Will whittle away in this passage of rhyme
I can scribble all the little lines I want, but in truth
If some leader that didn’t come from my roots read this,
They would dismiss this as another bitch busy bitching
And barking, with all my of my people’s complaints
Being treated as another bill in a full box.
These everyday stress additives are just another