If I Never Met You

To love and have lost is better than to have never have loved at all.
But if I never tasted chocolate I wouldn’t know what I was missing.

If I never had sex I would still be satisfied with kissing 

If I never took a breath I wouldn’t care to go fishing.

And if I never saw it straight would the Leaning Tower be tipping?

I wished I never knew the sun so these rainy days were normal.

As each drop fell I would enjoy the way it ruptured as it made contact with my skin

I wished my love never adorned you so the undressing was less formal.

Imagine rough skin casually peeled off so I could truly love you from within

Save Yourselves First

“It doesn’t matter any longer And I’m speaking for myself

For Jimmy Baldwin

And I think I’m speaking for a great many other negroes too

It doesn’t matter any longer what you do to me.

You can put me in jail.

You can kill me.

By the time I was 17, you’d done everything that you could do to me.

The problem now is,

How are you going to save yourselves.” – James Baldwin
You’ve never stuck a fork in an outlet,

because you know better.

Not because you’ve witnessed the outcome,

But when parents warn you

Sometimes you listen without asking how come. 

The stove

The block

The iron

They’re all hot.

Put your hand on one like Russian Roulette 

Go ahead and take your shot.

I’m watching blood boil

People not caring about the degrees

Revenge starts to look like a delicacy

There are no reservations 

For self preservation 

Enlightening revelations

Stay warm in the winter time.

Do whatever is necessary.

If you die before martyrdom

How could you be legendary?

Don’t blame others for your negligency 

Stay warm, don’t freeze. 

Liquor store seems to be serving delicacies

But only hard liquor

No beer under 30 percent 

Niggas against the draft

Didn’t mean to pretense the past.

Good Morning Vietnam

We could all pretend for laughs.

My skin is reminiscent of a Kong

My skin automatically makes me a con

But it doesn’t matter any longer

Save yourselves first.

How To Raise A Black Boy

Does the juxtaposition of the words “Black” “Lives” &”Matter” make you upset?

Black bodies hanging from poplar trees, would you have wept?

When a black child is murdered by police,

Do you ask “why” or “why didn’t he get on his knees”

When armed shooters with lack of color

Are still allowed to see their mother.

Black fathers taken from their children before birth

Black children six feet beneath earth

Naive young me used to question why so often.

I remember asking my mom why I couldn’t have a nerf gun.

I promised I wouldn’t shoot it at, or hurt anyone.

Mom, it’s cold why can’t I wear my hood at night?

It’s not in my eyes I promise I can see alright.

Danny and Nick are doing it, why can’t I play ding dong ditch

Jesus Christ mom stop being such a god damn bitch.

I always viewed my parents as overprotective

Thought I was being sheltered and I couldn’t tell why

My dad always seemed a bit aggressive

All because they were doing things just to keep me alive

I was never awarded my adolescence

Coming home from school to added lessons

I wasn’t afforded the luxury of childhood and silly decisions

Because of others misinformed filthy religions

I never knew what it was like to be boisterous and careless

My mother feared some cop would point at me and care less

I could have been just words on a tombstone

Instead of you reading my thoughts and my words being known

It wasn’t until now that I understand why I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes

Until seeing black victims juvenile crimes resurrect all whilst the white shooter didn’t get a court date

I know now.

I know now that my life doesn’t matter more than that of a deer

“Is it hunting season on a niggas ass” wasn’t a joke, but actually fear.

Black bodies no longer hang on poplar trees

Black bodies now lie in the streets

Silence is empowering the other side

So I no longer jail my tongue behind my teeth.

For The Last Time, Lets Make This Time Last

In the past 22 years, I’ve felt nothing greater than your touch.

My eyes are a slave to your beauty.
That doesn’t rhyme
But neither does the clock
We never measure time
By each tick or tock.
Instead the hours
I don’t measure your heart,
Neither the love of ours.
Because who can count to infinity
You know the inner me.
We have our differences
Argue on a few or more instances
And still..
Nothings perfect except you
You’re mine. But you possess me too.