You Always Gotta Be Thinking

I never thought...
But that's my first mistake, see,
You always gotta be thinking.
But at this point, I was on autopilot
Going to work, watching the ink turn violet
Across the keyboard my fingers glided
I didn't try to hide it, but
For sanity's sake, it stayed hidden.
And as my normal life unfolded as written
Between the lines something was missing.
And even if I was ashamed or sadder
Or whether it was a little of the former and the latter
It didn't produce chatter, because
Hardly anyone knew, so
It didn't matter.
And it was because of this lame indifference
That I continued to feign interest in the same stuff
When they'd come back around, though,
I acted tough
Because a woman might not come out and say it,
but she knows when enough is enough.
And it was at this particular juncture
When I thought this balloon of sanity was about to be punctured
That I started thinking.
And yes, it might have been after I'd been drinking
But suddenly, I realized that shit wasn't all on me
And I stopped sinking.
And it was like I woke up from a nap so long
You don't even remember when it started
And you realize maybe all of it was just a bad dream
And you and the dream are now parted
And you bolt out of bed happy as can be
Because the dream left you brokenhearted
But a dream is nothing, for pity's sake.
Monsters and shame are just a fake.
And just when you think it's too much for one person to take,
You wake
And notice the blue and white sky outside your window, maybe for the first time
And you think,
I never thought it would be like this.
But that's your first mistake, see
You always gotta be thinking.

Celebrate (Written for Juneteenth celebration, Waterloo)

Celebrate because a celebration is taking place

And you don't need an excuse to swap laughs and handshakes

Eat hot dogs, chicken wings and cake

Celebrate because the park is green

And the sun's shining

Celebrate cause there's kids hollering

And babies crying.

Celebrate because the history books permeate the deep corners of our brains

Celebrate because while there's still so much hate, love remains.

Celebrate because that was us on the ships

And us in chains

Celebrate for Amistad and Roots and Bad Boyz and Friday

Celebrate for each of the 870 days

between Lincoln's pen and freedom

Celebrate because we recognize they cheated em.

Celebrate for abolitionists fighting for Emancipation

Celebrate because we remember, somewhere, the elation

Celebrate in memory of Martin, Malcolm and Marcus

Celebrate whether you're as white or as dark as us

Celebrate for a U.S. Government apology centuries later

Celebrate because it's never too late to stop being a hater.

Celebrate like you just heard from an unknown soldier

astride on a horse all in white

That all this time you thought you were blind in a tunnel

You were only waiting on light.

I Could Never Be a Poet

(What's she doin on the mic? ... Don't worry.)

I could never be a poet

because I've got a fear of speaking in public.

I'd rather retreat in shyness and embarrassment

Than stand up and share it.

I could never be a poet

because I didn't grow up

listening to The Last Poets or Nikki Giovanni

My mother's records didn't include spoken word

though she did teach me to write in rhythmic curves.

I could never be a poet

because I didn't have hardship after hardship

slamming down on my psyche like a sledgehammer on a bolt,

punching me into the ground until there's only a little left.

I could never be a poet

because I don't take enough breaths.

I could never be a poet

because experience has led me to believe

that I can't tell what is wrong from what is right.

I could never be a poet

because I'm white.

I could never be a poet

because I'm not very polished or skillful,

and sometimes I willfully leave the edges rough.

I could never be a poet

cause I don't know when I've said enough.

I could never be a poet

because I crack too many jokes

that get too analytical.

I could never be a poet

cause I'm too political.

I could never be a poet

because I have a job

that doesn't just let you shout whatever you want from the hills.

I could never be a poet

cause it doesn't pay my bills.

I could never be a poet

because you could write your whole life

and never find that gem.

I could never be a poet

who's anything like them.

I could never be a poet

because there aren't enough letters, words, phrases, pens and paper

to possibly document all the world's beauty and abuses.

I could never be a poet

cause I've got too many excuses.

I could never be a poet

because I'm still figuring out

whether I'm a young girl, a chick, a woman,

a hippie, a traveler, a lover, a miss or a ma'am.

I could never be a poet except
I already am.