Christopher Davis- Three Poems

The Return

 

The mandate mandates leaving singlehood

And start a family of sorts.

Society says it’s an unequal family

Comprised of multigenerational, multi-ethnic, single-sex, relationship

With two children named Sophie and Charlie.

 

The journey to find Mr. Right is a decade long journey

That’s all the time I’m giving myself

I will give up the fight

Throwing up my hands

While waving the white flag

With my head hung down.

 

I am beginning to form a search party

And place wanted posters

All around

Wanted: medium sized man

With small dog for LTR

Reward: my happiness.-

The most expensive thing I have is my happiness.

 

Once he gets a taste of my life

He will want to live happily

With me

For eternity.

 

A Little Black Girl Dreams

 

Little one dreams of her future.

It’s out of focus

No one with experience to mentor her-

To show her how to make the most of her dreams.

 

She wants to grow up.

Unlikely.

If she does, success

Or slightly.

At socioeconomic bottom;

The bottom of society’s steel toe militarized police boot.

 

She dreams little dreams.

She dreams big dreams.

 

Dreams are nothing if there’s no focus;

No towel to clean the polish off the blurred view.

 

Dreams sit, fester, and die forgotten

While waiting too long to be actualized.

 

Poor little girl.

All she knows is to awaken

From her dreams of success

To her nightmare of a world

Where she’s going nowhere

And will never be successful

Until men and other women stop pushing her to the bottom

And mentor her and ask her about her assorted dreams.

 

 

I Am a Yo-Yo

 

 

I am a human yo-yo

Yanked here and there by a snare

Around my neck.

I am yanked forward through a dark

School to prison pipeline

Shoved intentionally, roughly through.

 

The rope gets another hard pull

Through to my job

If I survive being hanged up in front of the prison.

 

My rope thrown over a tree

Again, I’m hoisted up

Away from the tree of opportunity

Its fruit teases as

Other people opposite color of me climb it like a monkey

Eating of the fruit

As I starve

Throwing rotten bits at me

Hurling recycled opportunities at my head

And every so often

One lands at my feet.

I pick one up and shove it in my breast pocket

And save it near my heart

Hoping the opportunity won’t spoil

That it is something I can feed to a family of followers being dragged behind;

I hope it will feed an entire generation of brothers and sisters

Who depend on our collective hope for survival.

 

While being dragged behind;

Struggling all the way.

Eventually the burning of flesh

From the friction, the tired muscles

From holding on to the rope

Cause hypertension, HIV, diabetes or some other disease

Making me tired enough

To let them make me swing from trees.

 

 

Christopher Davis is a poet, teacher, and photographer.  He holds a BA. In English and in Pan African Studies; M.A in Education; and an Ed.S in Education.  .He has written thousands of poems about life.  He is the author of book of poetry entitled Only, If: Volume 1­ available for download at the Apple iBook store.