this man i am becoming

i have fallen out of love with the man i am becoming.

he seems a bit too serious.

he's too focused on his goals and not focused enough on shiny things and tattoos.

well, shiny things have never really caught my attention unless we count the bangles marinda james (now smith) wore everyday since kindergarten. i loved her first. she taught me to color in the lines.

the man i am becoming seems to not tolerate too much, which is cool - but it's also getting rid of some of the dead weight (bad friends) that hung around.

there is no room for idiots, real-life assholes, and the incompetent.

-----

i heard a 25 year old bragging on his latest number bump.

he had gone from 75 to 81. not a bad leap in a matter of 3 days - but you're 25.

at 21 & sometimes 22 you're allowed the foolish mistakes and bad decisions that have to happen to shape paradigms and shxt of the sort - but at 25 you are not.

your biggest fxck up should not have a name and a ponytail.

there should be no left over goals tucked under your bed with your box of porn and dirty plates.

the house you live in should not be shared with your folks - and your name should not have to be written on the orange juice.

you are grown.

and then there is:

the economy is bad

student loans are expensive

mom needs help paying bills

trying to get your credit together

just graduated college and need to get on the good foot

this is the point where i sigh and not go into any of the bullshit excuses listed above.

-----

the man i am becoming - like the man i was - is still the most important thing.

he is to be loved with the mind - not the heart.

neither of us have quite learned a concrete method to break the mind (without sacrificing self).

so it's safer.

the heart is easily broken after the promises and expectations. they all seem to shatter.

they subscribe to chinua (smart people know what i'm talking about).

-----

the man i am becoming is closing this blog with the following:

there are no lucky people on this planet on which i live - just hustlers.

the last poem for you

i got one last train poem for you

i suggest we kiss hard under ads that ain't got shit to do with us

smile at people speaking curses under their breath

this ain't where we supposed to be

we should be giggling in our sleep

and smiling when we wake up to pee

we need to be in love late at night

in case the sun decides to not attend the party

8.24.09

is.it.a.crime?

you picked a fine time to leave me, lucille

so the picture you painted one christmas is no longer around
and neither are the socks you brought one birthday trying to be funny - but i wore them anyway because the old ones had holes

i miss the socks with the holes

i sat at a coffee shop today writing pieces of a script that began much like we did
a bit confusing - but simple nonetheless

coffee shops don't do it for me anymore
and i've been trying to get you to call me for the past month
word on the horn is you're playing house with your ex boyfriend

'but you don't get your dude back like that'

my number hasn't changed
it's been turned off a few times thanks to tmobile's fuck ups
but the number is still the same
and you haven't called me

you picked a fine time to leave me lucille

you can't even look me in the face anymore
i've started drinking again - drinking again
bottles of vodka and barefoot moscato

whoever is standing downwind of me is wearing chance perfume and drinking espresso
i'm sorry if the train of thought here gets derailed every so often
i'm not stable

there was confusion with that last letter you left
"don't let him take me. don't let him handle me and drive me mad"
there was something very gershwin about it.
something very porgy and bess about it

and the maxwell album is good but it will never beat out urban hang suite

'lead me on girl if you want
take my heart and my love
take of me all that you want
and if there's a thing that you need
i'd give you the breath that i breath
and if ever you yearn for the love in me
whenever whereever whatever
baby'

we practiced conceiving children to that song
hoping for at least one boy

your facebook status changed to 'married to' some clown
and i've been trying to get you to call for the past month

you hate me now because he can't live up to his potential no matter how hard he tries

you can't look me in the face because i remind you of a life that can no longer happen for you.
i remind you of that time you were happiest about your weight loss - and you said you'd never gain weight with me because you only gained weight when you were depressed.

you're mad at me because you're at your heaviest.

you picked a fine time to leave me, lucille

this may come as some surprise
but - i miss you
is it a crime that i still want you
and i want you to want me too?
you took his love
but it doesn't feel like mine

and i've been trying to get you to call me for a month

surely you want me back
i still want you
and i want you to want me too

i still love you!

i can't give you more that
surely you want me back.

you picked a fine time to leave me, lucille

i-need-my-heart

i need my heart
(for barack & michelle)

sometimes it's not all politics
sometimes when it's late i want to hold your hand and cross streets for the hell of it
i want to put the kids to bed and put marsalis on the record player we brought together in college
then dance to the sound of crickets when the record skips
between debates i want to argue about the perfume you wore on our second date
and laugh about the letters written from passenger seats watching white lines fly by
i want to cry in front of you now
i want to struggle hard with you as though we may not survive the life of the moon
then wake up smiling at our progress as we run to the sun
hand in hand i want to hold down a family
hand in hand i want to uphold the people
and teach our daughters the way of the block
they way of the land is whichever way we choose to walk
i want the way to my heart to be through you
so to you i give it
it's not all politics
sometimes it's just us
sometimes i can't handle the distance
so i walk a few miles to lessen it
sometimes i can't handle the pressure
so i need you to tell me to stop stressing it
i need you
i need you to be no more than fingertip's reach when i get the urge to grab you
align the freckles in our eyes and wait for our souls to do whatever it is they do
i want to stand on stages before millions to tell the world about this
i want to stand on a front porch and tell you about this
nothing political about it
just an exchange of us when we kiss
and we have this moment
there are no words
and the politics have subsided
and i need my heart