I’m not a poet

I’m not a poet
I don’t flow symbolically
or have a black power philosophy
I’m really all about me

I don’t rhyme about the time…
(let me breathe)…
did that thing only HE knows how to do to me.
My mind doesn’t metaphorically
think about how he makes my heart swell to the point that I want to go to
emergency, strip and offer me, or…
smile, feast my eyes on his form and be happy for we

Man, I can’t find the words when I see my babies and realize they…
came from me…
(with a little bit of help from their daddies)
I’d rather cry at the wonder of two kids
who know they share a Mom
but on the sly probably hope one day they find out
the other one ain’t mine

I don’t think about the struggle cuz that shit hurts my brain
And I tried a couple of times to be an impetus of change
until I realized that
here and works its way out
That I know my strengths
and praise and appreciate yours
People who come together in the name of progress
without praise, fame or accolade
spiritually open doors

I don’t have a clever way to describe my fine
and I damn sure can’t say I got a fat ass
because in reality I really only got a booty
or like Momma said “a behind”
I don’t have good hair or bad
but it’s all there
and a few years ago it told me it loved me
I decided to go ahead and start the love affair
with everything that was wrong about me
until it became right

I’m not a poet
That’s one thing I know
I’ma just be D
and make my own flow


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