30 Day Poetry Challenge; Day 14

Circular Dreams

I love how rainstorms breath life into the dead night

I would stare at the sky and become lightening as thunder my trusted theme song

Into the twilight, I’d march into battle striking the earth with grace as bystanders watch in awe

At the peak of my powers with rage filling my head, I dissected a dinosaur of a tree with the ease at which your lungs fill

This is by no means a deep poem, nothing “woke” here

Just me telling an all of you that I dream too,

Sometimes the little boy in me just wants to be Bart Simpson or Muhammad Ali or the super version of the two. Muhammad Ali

I want to tell your mama jokes so funny, you all laugh so hard we start a revolution,

I want y’all to know I’m “woke” but I’m still that little boy running down the road to play Vabana

Then after pick the family in my German wire S class we just finished making

Because we “woke” that way

Then grab the hommies, watch us a film, go recreate the film where I somehow wind up as Dukes all over again,

At 16 have me some tea, pinkies raised of course

And as the man of the house, walk to the gate, out stretch my arms like bears do and give mums a hug

She had to adult all day and its getting her down, I can see how the heavy bags drop her eyes

I told you this is by no means a deep poem, nothing “woke” here

Just lingering thoughts of a boy staring at a rainstorm attempting to sing himself to sleep because daddy couldn’t

The man obviously couldn’t hold a tune, how could he? When he couldn’t keep his word

This, this is a tale of a little boy dreams forged from tears, heart on his sleeve, reality the chip on his shoulder, nativity in his little eyes and lingering messages from mother

They usually go like, “Never give up”, “Don’t break”, “you are a product of me. With you I place my dreams and strengths. No weaknesses because, you son, you are my strength”

Funny how her hope in me is what makes me strong and yet she calls me her strength

This is not a deep poem, nothing “woke” here

I’m just telling you all that sometimes, which is most times I am afraid and I panic, which leads to sweating through both my shirts

Making weird inappropriate jokes to deflect attention of myself which always has the opposite effect

But I make my own strides, strides to be better for the promises I made moms

For the guy who should have been father, for the family

There is really no depth here, nothing “woke”

Just a boys continuous attempts at be manhood


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: