The Ol' Ball & Chain

You

Attribute me

Not to life’s greatest adventure

But to a prison sentence.

Or a stage in life that is a

Necessary evil for procreation

And guilt-free monogamy.

You

Associate me

With the nagging to fix kitchen cabinets

And annoying jousts over remote-hogging

…instead of a life-long friendship

That transcends its titles and obligations.

You

Fill bars and hardware stores

Till after hours,

Secretly envy single men,

And excitedly attend bachelor parties

To relive your glory days…

To recall when you were that free…

To recapture the smile that was lost

Somewhere between the rehearsal dinner

And the 50^th soiled diaper that needed to be changed…

To remember when

You weren’t weighed down by the ol’ ball and chain...

You

Cheapen me

And then blame me for

Having desires beyond the biological.

Past our released endorphins and sweaty limbs.

You

Connect me

Directly to the journey’s difficulty

Instead of seeing me

As an answer to prayer.

["It is not good that Man should be alone..."]

You

Flee.

So I

Will wait.

Def Poet (snippet)

Vibrations of plenty

Like boom –bap

And broken syllables in scatted form

Resounding on & on

And on again.

My life is bordered by pulsations

The soil throbs with anticipation

And whimpers with

Discontent from the hoarded debris made of

Parched parchment paper

I exhale in agreement

And pray the

Dry air will ignite the rubbish.

I lend my ear to the ground

To this faultless beat

And prepare the words to release

Into the earth.

Choke the weeds

Before I choke on this burden.

Birds.&.the.Bees.

Each time we become
Dissatisfied with our slow passage
Into a
Lifelong intimacy,
Our desperate grasping leaves us
More discontent.

Stumbling into moments to
Devour one another’s sweetness,
Only to grow increasingly
Hungry and malnourished.
We starve ourselves.

It is then:
A door is opened
That leads outside to
Greener Pastures…
…but we are so caught up in
Our indulgence of this paradise
That we don’t stop to think:
“How will we maintain the land…with no tools?”
So
We linger momentarily,
Stare at our own immature, bare members,
And then sigh; heading back towards
Our original dwelling...
…praying, on the way,
That one of us remembered
To keep the door unlocked.

Still.[Spoken.Word.]

the way the wind blows
acclaim follows suite.
i would rather stretch my frame
underneath the persistent sky.
though it varies in hues
it will never change its shape
still as infinite as before.
steady in its faithfulness
and ignored still.
so i will pay attention
and allow the sky to teach me
how to be great without being applauded,
how to run from popularity with a clause,
and how to use misunderstanding
to confirm my identity.
[in Him.]
i lay.
and i am still.
because the way the wind blows
acclaim follows suite.