Life of a Salad

Cheerfulness through my inflamed senses

Would scare a harmonize heart to death

Wealth, Greatness, Wisdom

And always a moment too bark

Fun and games are not uncommon

But cherished like diamonds, sugar cookies and jellybeans to me

For I recognize that I must yield

To my commercial of affluence

But mimic my choruses of words when I say

My heart exists for the spirit

Lest my destiny comes through my intellects

And puts a finality to all of this Gladness

But I take liberty to collect flashes of fond memories of two pairs of wine glasses

Duration

Old school crying that flowed from a desert of dry tears.  Its flow was from a life of many forms.

Movies my confidant, deceptive response of one-dimensional mirrors that echo anguish.

Knowing no one would stop to view genuine genres in this deliberate raging fire of sand.

It’s painful and wonder less to cry especially in a world that seem too marginalize advising.

Encouragement essential to your own; which makes our individual tears flow upstream against this current of superficiality.

A season for renaissance! “surprise” pick the language, thus “hold fast to hope and courage. The only rational act” is love”.

“Where I’m from”

 I am from rhythm and blues, from Royal Crown grease and Afro Sheen cosmetics

I am from hot water cornbread, Collard Greens, hair straightening, jazz playing

I am from Cincinnati Laura Homes and Lincoln Courts Projects

I am from Fried Chicken Sunday family gatherings, dominoes being played, the dozens and

Bid Whist, to the blaring of Aretha, Sam Cook, Otis Redding and Jackie Wilson

I am from the Black and I’m Proud culture, love and respect,  love yourself first before demanding it from others, as I listen to Motown.

I am from “hard head morals that were sound, even a bit puritanical”, and “tragedy of the age.

I am from poverty, single family mom and bondage of an Orphanage” thinking no one cares”
 I am from the chocolate rose that grew from the deaths of what is Truth?

I am from Indeed, that men know so little of,” Colored Men” wondering ,How did I become a Teacher!

I am from, none of this treatment your goanna get while driving “ obscure”

I am from a Christian home
I am from Monroe, Georgia Chitterlings and Pigs Feet

by way of Cincinnati style chili,

I am from my grandma Margaret waking me up for Saturday chores, the smell of Pine Sol and Ajax Cleaner, selling popcorn at Crosley field to the gridiron of Iowa State

I am from a line of strong, Soulful Folks that love to Teach that yearn to echo it again!

“And the Band Plays on”