Ode to the Black Man’s Beauty part 3

Beautiful shades of brown everywhere
So many varieties that tug and dare
All eyes to turn, to look, to stare
Upon the promise of heaven lurking there
Weak of heart be warned beware
Realize that all is fair in love. Know then
That with a glance a dance begins
Take that chance perhaps to win
Some recognition of comradery or the end
Of solitude in mediocrity as found in
The truthful honest simple beauty of Black Men

Ode to the Black Man’s Beauty part 2

The Black Man’s beauty nestles snuggly in his soul
Ever within reach, ever out control
Brought to life by love all around
It is boundless, unbridled and gleams like a crown

The Black Man’s beauty croons a haunting lament
Ever fusing and adapting with ageless intent
By living in truth and in being himself
He holds fast to wisdom, he gains in wealth

The Black Man’s beauty garners prize after prize
Ever buoyed by the passion clearly glowing in his eyes
Born to indifference and utopian dreams
He is always more, never less than he seems

The Black Man’s beauty can be worn in every style
Ever warming forever unfolding over time or just for a while
Be it youthful exuberance or aged experience of bliss
It is God smiling at us through beauty such as this

Ode to the Black Man’s Beauty part 1

On the street, on the corner, on the block
On the court, on a stage, on the clock
In a pack, in a cell, in a daze
In transition, in the office, in a maze
At the club, at attention, at home
At school, at rest, all alone
Upon arrival, after work, above the law
Under suspicion, in the mix, in the raw
Taking chances, working out, out of control
Up to no good, on the down low, getting old…

Here is and ode to the beauty of Black Men
Found in every part of graciousness and sin
Let us marvel in the richness of colored skin
Upon completion we’ll then celebrate again

Admonitions

Arrive in peace
Dwell in love
Harbor compassion
Within without above
Consider options
Know life at its best
Hold fast to a vision
Against any test
Go over and under
Weigh round and about
Develop intention
Dispel any doubt
Revel in freedom
Extend every hand
Shoulder this mantle
Each of us must demand

Nine to Five

Forced to unravel by the spinning wheel
Its bounty bends me- what’s the deal?
Wretchedly worn this ball and chain
Where’s the satisfaction gained?

Here underneath its lashing force
Each task becomes its past of course
So seldom given nod or praise
Worry strangles winning ways

Years that once seemed bright with hope
Tarnish now beneath the rope
Which, pulled by tensions, grip my throat
As more beasts gather near the moat

Suddenly among the fray
Of clouded dreams dulled by this day
What sparkle is it I should spy
But a glimmer of inspiration in my eye

Gripped now by this chance for even tide
Each effort made propels my stride
It's back into the whirling grind
Reward is felt through peaceful mind

Shout Out to My Thug Bros

Awash in raging negritude
No pain or pissed off attitude
Can justify your being rude
Yet I hear what you have to say

Poised for confrontation
Outside conventional conversation
In roaring against a nation
Your words are aimed this way

Let’s now begin to dialogue
We’ll clear away the blinding fog
Together cleave the fatted hog
That too long has had its day

Instead of blood confusion
We’ll begin a mind transfusion
Offering unified solution
Our journey begins today

“The resemblance is too amazing to ignore…”

Noah’s Arc is my life filtered through a California lens. The people in the show are TV versions of the people that surround me. It is a cleansing hopeful feeling to see your life on a public platform. I work in the arts, and it happens all the time. Life as inspiration for art. Art well modeled after life. Its true. The resemblance is too amazing to ignore so I just had to let you see for your selves how close The Arc's photoplays are to real life. My friends are bonded, and loving, and confused, and beautiful, and joyous. My friends and I live in New York. The pace and bravado is stylishly altered but the vibe is very much the same. I surmise that an SGL man of color in any major city of America today would find the challenges and triumphs to be of a kind. Having enjoyed watching The Arc so very much I look forward to viewing many more episodes that give voice to my way of life and those of my family, friends and loved ones. I challenge the producers and writers to stay as current with their ideas and presentations as the events and issues roll out accross the country. Its all about moving ahead and not backwards isn't it? Keep doing what you are doing with gusto and style. Yours in the Arts.

A Lovers Legend

Listen well to the legend of Angel and Isaac
They loved a mighty love with the devil at their back
Caught between extremes of devotion and death
They dared to be two spirits who share a lover's breath
Born in urban madness, the daily struggle to survive
They lived by outlaw codes in the fight to stay alive
Bred of feuding houses, tried in wars of changing turf
They sought to overcome it all by loving for all its worth

Angel made the choice to forever be with his Isaac
To never let him falter, bend, or slip into a crack
To always be together, to be a fire no one could douse
They devised a plan allowing them togetherness in one house
Though it meant deception, the risk was life or death
They chose to be as one to the very last breath
Too soon came the day when destiny pulled back their mask of lies
Machismo and bravado warrented that surely someone dies

A gun at Angel's ear was held there by his one true love Isaac
Forced to execute the lover he had vowed never to attack
Even in the chaos their eyes met and in this they both knew
That for their love to prosper they knew what they had to do
A bullet from the darkness rendered Angel down and dead
Isaac answered by shooting the murderer and then himself in the head
Thus ensuring that in death they would always be as one
From that moment it was known by all a lovers legend had begun

So now you've heard the sad story of Angel and Isaac
They lived and loved yet could not survive the world's attack
Should there be a lesson to learn from such a tale as this
Maybe it is found in the strength of lovers' bliss
Maybe it is found in the madness born of hate
We may all suffer likewise if our efforts are too late
Too late to stop the violence and intolerance each day
Angel and Isaac have shown us that love is the only way

www.frameline.org/festival/28th/programs/on_the_downlow.html

For Mom...

Springtime and azaleas
Always turn my thoughts to you
Warmth and freshness fill the air
The way you always do
You’ve nurtured me from seed to plant
I’ve not to wonder why
Your gifts are fragrant, gentle, and soft
Enough to fill the sky
Blooms, colors, sunlight, growth
The source of life arise
All these things lead back to you
They issue from your eyes
Spring comes only once each year
While you live (give) it every day
It’s in the thought of your fulfilling love
That I live in work and play

I know how to kill.
The lessons and instructions have been a daily part of my life all my life.
Killing is the world in which I live. It is the culture that bids me to give
more and more to suffering and to harm. The movies I see,
the books I read, the words I speak- all drip with the fervor
to commit meaningful acts of violence. It is a constant urging
to shape ever sharper blades of harm.

Sitting in a meeting the topic turns to shades of death
An icy fog of melancholy clings to every breath
Riding on the metro, riders shrug and chug in fear
Eyes darting to each bundled stranger standing so very near

The how and why that I should kill is broadcast nonstop.
This information is readily available in a multitude of methods,
All studied and tried. There are plans, rules, strategies, and lifestyle
models that, in detail, give guidance to the ways of warfare and strife.

Fact, fiction, and fantasy gently prod all my senses for fresh kill.
Mentors nurture every nuance making sure I feel the thrill.
Games of chance and simple phrases promote my duty to destroy.
Selfish personal gratification teaches me to “get the toy.”

Yet, with death all around me, tugging snuggly at my throat,
I am innately bound by the truth of life. I realize that to kill
means my own death.
Were I to kill so then would I die.
Life is the only truth, one to be embellished and fortified.

Ultimately I disavow my imbedded instruction
I refute my inherited claim
I turn from death and destruction
To celebrate creation again and again.

werx manifesto

Action, go, going, moving, making a path, a way, a route by which
to tread the path, the way, the road, the mountain, the journey.
Unimpeded, held back by no thing, compelled onward by energy, life, spirit.
Beauty nudges me, leads, and charms one's duties to liberation and release.
Truth is the guide taking us nearer the heights of unconditional Love.
Compassion arbiters our legacies, holding us back from the little death of fear.
A life devoted to relinquishing discord and to the soothing of tarnished souls.
We can ask for no more than what we give to the world.

Give life.

bboywerx