Extended Family

Margaret.
I never thought I’d say some things I did.
For one I never thought I’d call you “sis”.
I never thought I’d show interest
in anything that you liked or did.
But here I am.
Your younger brother, even if only in law.
That you accept me at all is enough to ask for.
Christian.
My secret weapon, and a lighter, taller me.
You’re the lamest dude I ever met
but still the coolest guy to me.
I wouldn’t call you lazy but if your interest isn’t there
It doesn’t matter what it is. You just don’t care.
You got to get over man.
I mean you’ve got years to do it.
But sometimes the simplest answer to things
isn’t just to say screw it.
Regardless you’re brighter than I think you even know yet.
Can’t wait to see your potential come into fruition.
Carilyn.
The quiet one. At least when I’m around.
You’re also the artistic one.
Art comes in many forms
and you’ve found one you’re passionate for.
Dance is something that lights up your eyes.
I noticed that when we met in real life.
And it didn’t take long to realize
that we share a common goal.
See yours again comes in the form of dance.
The motions. The performance. The feeling.
Whatever it is that does it for you.
Your goal is to collect that emotion
in every set, dive and motion.
I do the same in poetry. Thats my art.
I’m happy to see you so young following your heart.
Henry.
You’re an interesting man,
and one I can definitely respect.
I may not agree with all your decisions
but I’m on the outside looking in.
I see the Job you’re doing with your kids
and how you all have let me in.
I try my best not to overstep boundaries
and appreciate the love I’ve been given.
But as the man of the house
I give a particular thanks to you.
You viewed me, conversated and I’m sure
questioned the relationship she and I shared.
With myself being states away
and her being here.
Yet when we met you decided I was okay to let around your family.
You don’t understand what that means to me.
Thank you.
Nancy.
That is the first and only time
I will be calling you by your first name.
You’ve brought my favorite human being into this world.
But you’re a close second for giving me your little girl.
Since we’ve met I’ve been treated as nothing less
than a son to you.
That may not be a big deal to you
but I’m old fashioned in case you can’t tell.
The small things mean the most.
I truly think you’ve done a great job.
I’m definitely glad to add you to my list of moms.

Being Mine

She calls me her sunshine
even on her most rainy of days.
Im the one that makes her smile
through all the tears and pain.
The rock. The anchor.
The one that holds her in place.
Yet thats not what I want to do at all.
I want her to move forward,
just not too fast that she falls.
See with me she drifts into oblivion.
When I’m around she’s so oblivious
to the hurt she’s been living in.
I call her dramatic.
She definitely can be at times.
Sometimes she’s irrational,
but in the end she’s mine.
And that means so much.
See if I do so much as slightly give up
with me, with her or with us
Everything I helped her build up to be
would be crushed.

Worry About Yourself

All they need is drive.
They’re so dead wrong.
This clout count is compulsive.
They worship the ground I stand on.
Thats the way I see it.
The parties are corrosive
to the world I want to pull on.
The fakest in the same place,
with the faces of the same race
who hate each other more everyday
over skin tones and varied names.
Its not very sane, but the very same
words that I’m saying could be claimed
that I’m hypocritical. So cynical.
Less spiritual than I lead on to.
But who cares? Lifes not fair.
And the more you try to make it
the less you start to care about
opinions of the idiots that claim to be geniuses.
Ignorant to crazy lengths of blissfulness.
Thinking paychecks and great sex
is whats considered making it.
And facelifts with fake tits
are considered what beauty is.
It makes you wonder why you ever cared at all about others
but remember your hearts not small,
and it bothers you to want to have it all,
but wishing to give to others when they’d never give you thought.
Then you grow older remembering everything
you wish you would have done
even though if you did then you’d never get this far.
But why do they call it far?
Far from where you’ve been.
Far from all the competition you’ve been in since a kid.
Student of the month. Employee of the year.
Beauty Pageants. Team Captains. Olympic Gold Champions.
Not to say you shouldnt be proud. Its an achievement.
But we’ve been groomed to be better,
and that others should be beaten.
So I don’t want worship, I just dont want to have to fight.
Dedication should be enough to earn a good life.

Hoods

The streets are only as clean as you want it to be.
You only see what you’re wanting to see.
You only trade when you have nothing to keep.
Unless maybe you do.
And then you’re trying to spend
with a means to an end,
and no means to amend
a lost heart but close friend’s mean the world to you.
And i say close cause just friends are nothing new to you.
They’re cool with you
until there’s a way to be through with you.
They’re not your squad or your gang,
your family or friends.
They become more than that.
More in fact that it hurts more when they stab your back,
sit and laugh about jokes that you used to crack
sitting on your moms porch hitting loud and calling back
at the females down the street.
Dealers packing heat just in case
the police decide they want to beef.
The local crackhead scratch and begs
for an arm and leg for a little lead.
While uncle Tom stands with open ears.
Its depressing but its systematic oppression,
and yet there’s beauty in all these lessons.

Workaholic

I stand here unchanged.
Unscathed. Ultimately alive, and no longer afraid.
Not afraid of doing, pursuing or moving towards a goal.
Not afraid to become what I’m destined to be.
Not afraid to search…Just afraid to see.
Because when I see my goal
how will I know when to stop.
It’s always the next thing.
The next ambition to work for.
It turns into a tradition that when I stop it hurts more.
I’m a workaholic but there’s worse things to be.
I’ll push until I drop and maybe then I’ll be at peace.

Jay

I mean its not much to me.
Its really not a big thing.
My heart, yeah it sings
to my world and all its melodies.
Its the soup to my sicknesses.
All my pains remedies.
And when its fractured it needs to reassemble.
But what fixes the fixer?
What heals the sensitivity?
Nothing.
So when broken I need to reinvent myself.
Start from scratch on who I am.
And there I became Jay.
Once just a childhood nickname,
now the namesake worn on a child’s sleeve.
And as I grew it became the personality I connected to.
No longer adopted.
No. It was confirmed and adhered to.
My name became detested,
By Jay. The real dude
who was the real fool
to try and relieve himself
of what is still true.
The truth that he could never trade his values
simply because it hurts not to.
It hurts him to see others hurt,
and yet he’ll joke and act as if nothings wrong.
He’s emotional to the bone,
but will never let a tear come close.
He’s vibrant and loves people
but would rather be anti-social.
And you could say he’s a product of society
as we all really are.
But society can only be blamed so far.
The real theme of this is
loving yourself enough is the real test.

Food For Thought

Hear me.
See me.
Don’t try to steer me.
Because when it all goes downhill
you’ll end up disappearing.

Loathe me.
Scold me.
Don’t try to clothe me.
I don’t need what you have to give
if you don’t really love me.

Advise me.
Ride with me.
Don’t try to lie to me.
Deception cannot be forgiven
because trust can never be replenished.

Let me be me without you trying to control things.