Saturday, July 11, 2015

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.
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.

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