that jones

This journey of imperfections and incomplete beings

 only sees the light of day when derailed trains and failed attempts at partnerships 

dip into a pool of platonic passages that led to emotional excavations of effective explanations. 

Blessed to find your equal? It's possible. 

Fortunate to find a soulmate among scorned lovers and bitterness? Probably.

 The purpose of it all is to continue life, right? Wrong. 

The main reason He breathed life into one and formed another is so the completeness of two is made as one. Genetically separate in design but purposely matched by divine cause. There is a beautiful inevitably true foundation behind the destiny of love. While some have given up hope, others remain diligently devoted to the idea and hold steadfast to the possibility of it. Sure I can write you a poem. But it won't be about sex. 

Staccato Solace

The truth is,

 I'm a hopeless romantic

Even though I have no clue what that means

 I'm cursed to be an eternal optimist

With a sleeve of heart shaped tattoos

Underneath photographic memories and permanent poems.

Flawed and imperfect

 I'm residing in the weirdest place

My advice being sought on the subject I think I know least about

Never making it past the playoffs and all.

 I suppose it's because I listen

Without judgment or ridicule

 I'm a sucker for a good love story

A fiend for a great poem,

And honestly don't mind publicly being affectionate.

What does that have to do with being a man?

 I was raised by a woman

So I think much differently than he would.

Does that make me trill?

Time will tell as I paint my thoughts on a wall inside a room

The introverted Aquarius who loves to love

I bought a drum

I bought a drum. Because before I picked up a pen and pulled words from within, I was black. Because before my father became a legend in the logistics of computer language he was black. Because before my grandfather laid concrete, he was black and back in a land where kings roamed freely a boy whose skin resembled mine went in search of the tangible tools to make one when his eyes spotted an unfamiliar face. While stripping one of heritage, hair, language, last name, Allah, Allegiance and Home was a successful day's work for some, we remained chained, caged and chattel. I bought a drum because my addiction to snares and 808s doesn't come from the modern day radio. My affinity for dancing doesn't come from watching imitators steal and reinvent it to fit mainstream. My dreams of sun and freedom doesn't stem from being a Florida native. I bought a drum because the professor who was teaching me the meaning of the Yoruba language and Adinkra symbolism and why I should tattoo "young king" on my chest  died before I could kneel and thank her for removing the veil from my eyes. I bought a drum so I can start a new legacy connected to my last name instead of passing down vulgar words and disrespect for black women and how to swag out till you pass out to my sun....I can take him on my knee and tell him why I wanted to name him Zion. So I can teach him the meaning behind the red black and green that I painted on his bedroom walls. So I can bravely brace my daughters for the world that will size them up by the posts that they put on social media before opening their mouth. I bought a drum because I haven't found a book bold enough to admit that stealing an entire race of people from their home and killing them off slowly over the span of 500 moons is more sadistic than the devil himself. I bought a drum because for once I wanted to spend money in my own community for a cause deeper than appearance. I bought a drum because of the first word beside every description of my skin on every application for a dead end job I've filled out since I was eighteen. I bought a drum so that after I take off my suit and tie from the day at the office in the only black owned business in downtown Nashville I can proudly say I have not forgotten where my roots are even if my dreads are gone. I bought a drum because kunta couldn't make it home that day. I bought a drum because the warrior in me is not dead. They can not kill what they did not build.