Mixed

 (…but not mixed-up)

In spite
Of being light-bright
(& almost white, but
Not quite)
I choose
Neither to assimilate
Or to hate nor to separate
The human race
…but instead, realize
All of us comprise
The face of its fate…
& trust in the vernacular of my soulness.

Please

Excuse
My vulnerabilities
But sometimes
They escape me
I am forever
Trying to make
A success
Of my failures
& new beginnings
Of my ends.

Ancestors

When the ancestors
Dance, I can hear Africa
In beats of my heart.

Ode to the Poetry of Me (or: improvised introspections after watching Collateral Beauty)

Sometimes it’s just blood
Sweat, tears, with no sign of
Figures of speech in here…

Sometimes love, death, time,
With collateral beauty
Not too far behind..

At other times, words
Echo life on the threshold
Of even death’s door

Where the next chorus
Blows hornucopian solos
Onward ’til tomorrow.