I lightweight Feel Kinda Salty

I lightweight felt kinda salty,
When they assassinated Medgar Evans and Martin Luther King,
Killing the power but not the dream!
I lightweight felt kinda salty,
That it took a devilish plan of infiltrating other lands,
For the world to recognize that Obama is the man. Continue reading

Not So Easy Sunday Morning

Is It easy like Sunday Morning, because it comes every week?
He was leaving his girl, said he tried too hard to make it work.
Sometimes I feel like leaving the world, cause the workload is so heavy.
Not the 9 to 5, the temporal pace, but the everyday rat race,
The cash chase, the R.I.P of family, the reading of the five year-old who got beat,
Cause she didn’t recognize the letter D, the cheating, the domestic violence,
The praying for silence in the middle of the night, when sin is at its height,
And you smell the frogs that have invaded the land!
Don’t forget the teenagers giving away their virginity,
Like now-n-laters at a kickball game.
The representation of us portrayed by pants sagging loosely around the waist.
I bow my head in disgrace, and I pray, for Sunday Mornings to be easy.
Easier for the elevation of the black man,
Instead of the master plan, incarcerate them, if we can’t erase them!
Easier for fair education, easier to pay for higher education!
Easier to obtain enlightenment, excitement, enhancement, of your thoughts.
Revelation knowledge, instead of carnal garbage, and a belief in things not seen.
Easier to teach people to reach out for their dreams.
Easier to convince them of purpose and destiny.
Sunday Morning does not always seem so easy!
I hear the middle of the night prayers requesting Sunday to come, as early as Tuesday.
The sighs of mothers in the hospitals praying for, one more week of life.
The burden of the pain of the cancer patient requesting, God to come now!
The silence of the thoughtless who just expect without anticipation,
That Sunday will come.
I feel the sweat from the brow of the preacher praying for a word,
That will make Sunday morning easier.
The righteous ladies with their legs shut tight
Who prayed that they might have found love the night before.
Africa is starving,
Haiti is impoverished,
Afghanistan? Iraq? The Taliban?
I wrote all of this to say, I don’t understand.
How could the songwriter sing? What did he mean?
Easy Like Sunday morning?
The only thing easy is leaving.
The hardest thing is, waiting for Sunday to come.

Bacon an Eggs, with a Side of Grits

I smile at his presence, and truly embraced,
The beauty that lies beside me and contributes to this smile on my face.
He has got that bacon an eggs body!
Making me feel real good.
I smile at his chiseled features, appearing to be cut from wood. Continue reading

36 Hours in a Day

36 Hours in a Day!

What if there where 36 hours in a day?
More time for children to play.
Laughing and running thru the neighborhoods.
More time for people to perform good works.
More time for breast cancer research and cures for AIDS.
More time to complete your dreams for the day.
Joshua understood this marvelous feat. Continue reading