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

What should I be?

Should I be a Tupac Shakur flowing with lyrics to inspire my listeners and those that disagree with my image?
Should I be a Johann Sebastian Bach and enrich contemporary arts with my skills and creativity?
Should I be Langston Hughes and take part in this 21st century renaissance of enlightenment and self-discovery?
Should I be a Barack Obama and stand on the world stage and be judged for having my own opinions?
Should I be a Marcus Garvey and organize a back to Africa movement so we can learn the true roots of our vines?
Should I be a Mother Teresa and make it my life mission to care for the sick and poor?
Should I be a Maya Angelou and let my experiences fuel my written expressions?
Should I be a Common and rap about uncommon things, touch the common person and worry not about plaudits?
Should I be an Albert Einstein with a brilliance that inspires my students and a poetic science that revolutionizes life?
Should I be the oppressed who are submissive and heavily burdened with the weight of institutional power?
Should I be a leader who is submissive and heavily burdened with the weight of institutional privilege?
Should I be what people expect me to be?
Should I be more?
Should I be less?
Should I be who I am?

Be careful what you pray for

When I prayed to do something great I had no idea I would be pushed to be a leader.

When I prayed to be a vessel to impact society I had no idea I would leave my immediate vicinity and travel the world.

When I prayed for understanding I had no idea that life altering experiences would occur and I would not like them.

When I prayed for wisdom I had no idea that I had to clean out myself in order to take in newness.

When I prayed for financial shifting and increase I had no idea of the responsibility that came with it.

When I prayed for extrinsic things I had no idea the vanity of them had no bearings on the intrinsic pleasures of my heart.

When I prayed for mercy and hiding I had no idea that grace would give me more and remove the veil so I could see clearly.

When I prayed I knew I would be heard and my prayers answered, but the how was never up to me.

 

State of being

My fridge looks like I'm livin' in poverty.
My mental says the same thing.

Empty thoughts below the line of happiness.
Empty pockets, below zero bank account.

This house has lost its home like feeling.
This heart has lost its love and peace.

Stripped of fresh vegetation, the fridge is empty.
Stripped of wholesome meditation, the mind is gone.

Unhealthy is a state of being.
Unhealthy living leads to death.

Shall poverty thrive?
Shall I die?

25 ways to make eggs

1. I can have a fried egg on bread as I dash out for work.
2. A fancy frittata on the weekend when company comes.
3. An omelet of any kind, especially with cheese for my brother.
4. Scrambled eggs are quick and simple for the kids.
5. Sauteed garlic and asparagus with eggs for my fancy sister.
6. Sunny side up for my grandpa from Mississippi.
7. Poached eggs over a crab cake for my cousin from the East.
8. Over medium for my aunt in northern California.
9. Baked with vegetables when I want a light meal.
10. I can have eggs in a basket for a brunch special.
11. Eggs in a quiche to share at the potluck.
13. Egg salad for a nice picnic at the park.
14. Hard-boiled eggs in tuna salad, chicken salad or just plain salad.
15. Soft-boiled eggs eaten right out of their shell or spread across toast.
16. Deviled eggs for the family reunion in summertime.
17. Raw eggs for the extreme dieter.
18. Eggs wrapped in a burrito, or huevos rancheros.
19. Eggs in my stir fry from the Chinese food spot.
20. A fried egg over my hamburger from the burger joint.
21. A fried bologna sandwich with an egg fried hard for my distant cousins.
22. Scrambled eggs with grape jelly and a biscuit for my mother.
23. Eggs wrapped in paratha bread in the East.
24. Eggs wrapped around Pad Thai Haw Kai in Thailand.
25. Eggnog gives holiday cheer and good tidings at the end of every year.

I want that old thing back

I want that old school secret love when he writes letters and slides them in your locker.
I want that old school crush when he walked you to your class and ran late to his.
I want that old school stare from across the room because he cannot deny his affection.
I want that old school date night when he knocks on the door and asks are you ready.
I want that old school car door opening, front door holding, chivalrous brother.
I want that old school conversation when he said, "I like you!" and meant it.
I want that old thing back.

Better things to do

I have a work to do, but I'd much rather look out the window.
There is some research and arguments to be developed,
But I can't argue with the beauty of the night sky that claims my attention.
My alarm will go off for work in the morning and I should be prepared,
Yet I find more pleasure in writing this poem than drafting my lessons.
The textbooks in my bag are being neglected, maybe I should unzip them.
Or just unzip the wonders of my mind and the love I have for the pen.
And then let my heart guide me to true happiness.