Sections

Section eight keeps me in the impoverished section of the community

Because the dais section of the secret society decided on world domination.

They then formed the elitist who crafted the bylaws, articles and sections that deprive, dishonor, divide, and sanction death.  

They made me sit in the back section of public transportation.

I sat in the Black section of theaters, restaurants and other public venues.

Before that, they took me by force from the Motherland and laid me in the lower section of their sea vessels,

Then had the nerve to draft a section in their Constitution that classified me as three-fifths of a human being.

I’ve now graduated into a whole human being, but divided into sections my people fall.

And back when I sat in my project section

Momma parted my hair and laid some of that Blue Magic or Royal crown in each section.

Then ran a piping hot comb over every strand just to melt hot grease into my scalp.

And hot damn, I jumped up and got burned

And hot damn, I spoke up against the boss and got burned

And hot damn, I spoke out and Black churches were burned

And hot damn, I whistled at the White girl and got burned

And hot damn, the judge is a clansman, so my case got burned

And so…

What of my section?

2/11/16

The Heart of the Matter

See, what's the matter is the heart of the matter
Where the unconscious refuses to access the subconscious, which cannot move into the conscious,
Which fuels a blissful stupidity which we commonly refer to as society.

The heart of the matter is not police brutality or racism, but it is the lack of self-love,
Which produces a mass of people with no identity
And without an identity there is no sense of belonging.

Therefore, I say to you that the root of the problem is not a broken justice system,
But systems unchallenged by just rationale;
Only equity can balance the scales of injustice.

The broken family resonating in communities creates matter that breaks the heart
And the teachers have been disempowered and directed to teach to a standard
And that standard socializes the youth in the same circle of ignorance.

You see, what's at the heart of the matter is selfishness, pride and insecurities
All of which we lock in a special place in our hearts to be circulated throughout our bodies
And via the circulatory system hate is recycled and passed on through conception and multiple births.

The eye can be deceived, but the heart sees truth without looking
And at the heart of the matter is the unconscious refusing to identify with privilege
The subconscious resting comfortably in its social category of being a first world nation.

The unconscious resting on a foundation of lies that builds monuments of wealth
While the subconscious is perched elegantly on the ledge watching death run through the valley
And the conscious is diminished because it neglects to be proactive, to be extraordinary, to arise.

So, in understanding the heart of the matter I can pledge to stand in a position that seeks wisdom,
Denies privilege, models positivity, understands oneness in humanity, and perpetuates an agape love.

                                                                                                                                 Photo by ROBERT COHEN/Ap

He said, he said

He told me I could not love enough
I could not fill his emptiness
I could not match his pride with my lukewarm affection
I could not love enough with my smiles

Secure hugs were no replacement for insecurities

My love was not big enough in actions
My love was not loud enough in words
My love was not enough

There was a slow leak in the tire and every so often I’d stop at the pump or buy a can of fix a flat
Buying myself some time because replacing tires is expensive
That old car was too expensive to fix, too costly to get rid of, and held sentimental value because I invested my life into it

The mileage was beyond what the odometer could read
Oil was leaking and the car kept overheating
The seats were ripped and the interior stained beyond cleaning
A few broken lights and of course the tags were expired

No insurance
No more romances or innocent joy riding
Love and marriage were not in waiting for a faithless love
No more patience in an unforgiving heart
No sweet sound of laughter and no growth

He told me I could not love enough
I could not be the mother of life regardless of my genetic make up

My love was not big enough in actions
My love was not loud enough in words
My love was not enough

So I put the key in the ignition and jiggled three times
I shook the steering wheel two times and pumped the gas five times before it would turn over
I knew the end was near and I could not sustain it, nor could it sustain me
The engine gave out and I could not love it anymore

(Circa May 2013) 

The Life and Death of the Teacher

10/02/2011 4:36PM EDT

I died today. I failed to be the better person because I could not bear the weight of the world on my shoulders any longer. My knees buckled under anxiety and life left my chest. I gasped for air, but only chocked on the teratogen filled environment. After a complete collapse, I slowly faded. There was no need for resuscitation or any quick heroics, I was gone.

As I attained my Bachelor of Science degree in Education, with an elementary emphasis, I was fresh off the graduation platform when I stepped into my first classroom. Frightened out of my wits and not having one decorative thing to put on the wall, I jumped right in. I had two choices, to either sink, or swim. Immediately I went into creative mode doing my own thing and enjoying the exploration of being with a room full of six-year-old students for a good portion of my day. Shortly after, the piranhas would come in to gut me to the bones, to suck all the innovation and open-mindedness from every inch of my being. They dulled me down with a script; a formatted day to day of what school should absolutely never be like, but it was. Then they made me plaster things on the wall that the kids would never be able to read and attested that this would be the almighty achievement raiser. My life consisted of "teach it this way," and "say this instead," or "do it like that" Misses Robot.  Yes, I was Misses Robot and the oil began to slowly leak from my crevices.

Finally I gained a bit of balance between being a Misses Robot and half human. It took me eight months to figure it out, but I finally understood by the end of year one. Year two beget more nonsense on top of nonsense. More requirements that made learning simply not enjoyable and teaching even worse. I was set to learn a lot about myself, things I never knew. I didn't have cable television at my apartment during year two either. Turned out that I didn't need it at all. My life was a real time reality show, sitcom, drama, soap opera, mini series. Mostly drama though. What a grand year this was. I saw society for what it really was. I even became more understanding of how awry the education system, politics, and our communities really are. Everyday with each student I saw through it as clear as good sea water. It tore me apart. Year two was the decline of my health and love for my passion. My class had been swapped and I was thrown to the wolves and teaching eight-year-old students a month into the school year. Literally thrown to the wolves. The children were loving children as they all are, so I am not suggesting that they were animal like, but I was torn to shreds in heartbreak. I was over worked and my students, these lovely, wonderful young people, were poor victims of the piranhas as well. Those wonderful human beings were decreased to simple numbers and pods while I stepped further into my role of Misses Robot. Of course all bots have a programmer and what a misconstrued board I had.

Teaching was no longer fun at all in year two, but I gave it my all and all of me it took. I had to combat misconceptions among my students. I had to combat pop culture and television. I was mom, dad, counselor, disciplinarian, confidant, the after school, "free" tutor, and most importantly I was the teacher. All my love poured overflowing each day into some of what I thought were the neediest young people. They required so much love and a good role model. I strove to show them greatness daily. I fought with all of me to keep my emotions in check. When I wanted to yell, I hushed myself, and when I wanted to cry, I prayed. My daily devotional remained situated on my desk because I needed that jump start to put me on the right path each day. It was an ongoing battle until the very last day of school. The pain hurt so bad that I took my class to church with me on one particular Sunday and got down on my knees at the alter and wept for the children I was responsible for. I was wounded beyond repair. My parents had an array of societal issues, even though some were supportive and amazing, this reflected in my kids. They brought unimaginable things into the classroom. The dedicated parents were never enough to even out  the majority, and my administrators were clueless and too busy to pay attention to what existed in room thirty-four.

It was here that I toted too much weight. Without the help of some super coworkers I would have surely sunk. They were like the string attached to the boat, which was attached to the buoy on the other end. God being that buoy of course. All of me wished I could have escaped this experience, yet I know that I would not be who I am today without it. And so, I rolled into year three for stability purposes knowing that it would be my grand exit. At the conclusion of my Act, I did my robot dance off of education's grand stage never wanting to be a teacher again. All the excitement and joys of the class existed no more. The once happy, new teacher was now a worn veteran dead of all teaching joys.

If you would like to read the full story in detail, please look out for my upcoming publications and productions. 

Unfocused and in a Frenzy: Part II Many Opinions

The year started off with joyful feelings and all was great, until opinions came into play and shyte started to jump on my plate.
Now I'm staring out the window with a dreadful look on my face, holding some emotions that I just can't seem to place.
Can't set them down without picking them back up, and can't deal with them strategically, so they get bottled up.
Entangled in my system they make my belly ache, consumed with resenting feelings that I just can't take.
So what I conclude is a partial solitude which you might take as rude or an cold attitude.
Please don't get it misconstrued, love is love and that I will never elude, but my mind is mines and my ears are now glued.
I have no questions, which requests no answers...
I have no concerns, which requests no opinions...

Just Like That

Oh how quickly the world comes crashing down on you in a twenty-four hour period. A few phone calls and financial obligations deplete all of you in just a flash. And like Job, I stand here watching it all perish. Hurting on the inside and my tears can wash away nothing, my thoughts can't change what is, and the mirror will never change the reflection of the sad face...

Fumble

I thought I was in tune with my Star Player, but he dropped the ball. Damn! It's a fumble and the balls loose. So here I stand on the side line waiting to see who's going to recover, the home team, or the opposition. It's been an intense game from the beginning, but my Star Player has carried the team well. His key moves put us in the lead and his keen sense of leadership has been ideal for the team. The strategic plans discussed in the huddle made victorious plays on the field, and so I thought I was in tune with my Star Player. Until he fucked up, and dropped the ball...

I'm NOT Happy

They want to come in and disrupt my so far, so good. They want to change my course of action and all the plans I have revamped. My goals were set and I knew how I was going to reach them, but numbers and outlandish logic has deteriorated everything, and I'm NOT happy...

Unreturned phone call and loads of BS

I wished you safe travels requested that you call me when you get in. Its a common courtesy to let people know that you made it to your destination safely. So, hours go by and I don't hear from you. I call and leave a voice message after I texted. I assume you've gone home and fallen asleep as you usually do...supposedly. Then I kind of start to worry. The weather was little bad, but I hope to God nothing has happened to you. So, all the while I'm hoping you eventually call, but you don't. So then my mind starts wondering and putting together scenarios of some slick shyte that you could be up to. Scenarios that protest you to be a liar and a cheat. Finally, you text, and of course you tell me that weather conditions delayed you. I am relieved that you are safe and my mind is put to ease from the awful thoughts I had put together, until reality snaps in five minutes later. Fool! You're lying! Don't give me a lame ass excuse. Damn you lie, hell if the sky wasn't blue, you'd try to convince me that it was.
Now, to make sure I'm not crazy let's replay this. You call me over the entire weekend that you're on vacation, clearly establishing that there are strong feelings between us. Then you call as you depart to return home, claiming that you would call me when you got in. So now I'm on this pedestal and I feel important, hell, maybe even like I'm number one on your list. Yet, when you finally make it home all I get is a lame ass text message full of crap. You couldn't call and tell me that lie to my ear?
Really quick, let me give you some insight on how I feel about text messages. They are impersonal. I don't really care to send texts in place of an in depth conversation or to convey emotions that words cannot. There's a difference in hearing a voice, seeing a face, and reading words. BIG difference. Now they are convenient when you're unable to talk or to send a quick, short message. They are not the only source of telling a loved one good night, good morning and sending other messages. Folks, my point is that you cannot live life or relationships through electronic devices.
Back to the matter at hand. So, I get this lie via text. I don't say much because deep down inside I'm pissed because this is not the first time I've not heard from you hours at a time. You're a repeat offender of doing disappearing acts and submitting un-returned phone calls and messages. You leave me hanging. All dressed lying in bed for evening dates turned into late night dates because you had some other shyte to do. The bad thing is, we aren't even together. The bad thing is, you tell me that you love me. The bad thing is, you tell me that you want to be with me and can't imagine not having me around. The bad thing is, I keep putting up with you.