Relaxed Fit

The heart

Poorly dressed
It wears not the latest threads
It’s hair in dreads
It’s beard ungroomed…

The jeans it wears are torn
It’s bomber jacket worn
The kicks it rocks, recycled boots
Its favorite tee hangs a little loose
It’s favorite brim slightly sullied about the rim
It’s go to watch has seen better ticks


Comfortably, they fit when it gains a few pounds or lose
The leather distressed but full of character
Lasting seasons past and thereafter
The boots are vintage, they aren’t made the same anymore
That classic Tee breathable, flexible…
It conforms and relaxes to its core
That favorite hat…covering the bad hair days or when the top grows thin, added warmth and protection
Perfect time is still kept,
It’s lasted the best tocks.
It tells the stories, and still gets “nice watch!”

So, thanks showers…
We change only our draws and socks


© 2015


High Tide

When the sun recedes…
The light it once gave fades
Only to return like it never left…

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Because the skies decided to slip into something a little sexier —
Something black and strapless
Sheer, it shimmered against the skin of the universe
The stars
It’s touch feels cooler,
For the time shared,
It bared all in a faint voice
The night whispered
It spoke of the sun’s rays,
It spoke of its heat
It spoke of how synonymous it is with the beach.
Yet the moon boasted about the waves–
It gravitationally objects
Like consensual sex,
It hugged the curves of the land
And sweet sand was made soft
The moon showed its toes
The sand chose it’s home
The sun beamed
The moon so shone



Sam speaks of ghosts
But we still feel the pulse
White fear is crowned
Taxing its public
Removing action from its

Black boys to men
Incorrectly sentenced
To death
Judge, Jury, & Defendants
Carry the execution
Blindfolded Bitch
Can’t see the blood
On her hands
Justice says red is the only
Hue that matters
Yet it’s just us
Whose hue splatters
Whose hue gathers on
Pages of poetry like napkins

They clutch guns
We clutch our babies
Thinking our children are
Adequately armed
They stand on grounds
That expands our harm

Casts red shadows
All over this land
Of ghosts inhaling
Death in their lungs
Sucking on the barren
Tit of paranoia

Bellies aching
Courage belies
When ancient stereotypes
Forge the signature of threat
Written by the calloused hands of cowards

Till we protect the blossoming
Foolishness of our youth
Let time manifest
Itself to maturity
Shower this plant with vigilance
Ghosts will find grounds to haunt

Thug Music,

Too Young
Too Black
“Assassinate these riff raffs
Before they find books,
Douglas, Denmark, Martin, Malcolm,
Bayard, Fannie, Ella, Garvey,
Chop them at the stem
Before the roots get deeper
Finding their own ground to
Stand on in America
And they become monuments
And liabilities
To our ability to lie”

Sam speaks of ghosts
We still feel the pulse
For there’s is sin
Too evil for heaven
And too scared for hell.

About Satchel Page

© 2014 Satchel Page


Wonder how long Mary carried Jesus.
Virgin pure
Unexplored, uncharted
Unfit, unexposed
Unwarranted, Unexplained

“Virgin Mary”,
Said the Angel
“You WILL conceive!
Don’t try to conceptualize,
Rationalize, strategize, improvise,
I’m just here to prophesy.”

Now young Mary within herself
Trying to explain her seed,
Her very meaning
To those who could never understand or accept…
Those who had never taken her steps
Wasted breaths expensed
Sensitizing to those never impregnated with…

To God be the glory.
To the world be the gifts


Basement Pavement

Never escaping
Stuck in the basement
Cold pavement, damp
Cobwebs, an empty pipe drips
Room enough to turn flips
Alone in a corner sits,
Stares at basket of dirty laundry
Hampered, overfilled
Stairs leading to a locked door
Ceiling envies the cold floor.

The present dialogue is a silent monological pause
The deaf ears of the walls
Dare not disclose fault
Nor issue blame
For the claims brought against it
Are heard in vain.

Repeat refrain.

The present dialogue is a silent monologue.
The present dialogue is a silent monologue.

ezspits again 1.22.14

Read: “Basement Pavement”

© 2014

Basic Black

Facial features pronounced
Nose and lips thicker no doubt
From outside looking out
Proud wave patterns
Mimicking rings of Saturn
Knotted or napped tapered and lined
With precision seen peeking thru backwards caps
Locks on broad shoulders
Genetically engineered landing gear
Built tough brothers

Watch the way you enter the room
Watch the attention you consume
Watch the accomplishments you amass
Watch your past…
Watch your passion
Lest it burns too deeply
Too flashy
(Man He’s got flair)
Too bossy
(Love his assertive air)
Too aggressive
(Guy really rallies the troops!)
Too aloof
(Other side of the pillow cool)
Too content
(Team player definition)
(He got a nose for action)
Always out of position

For centuries, mesmerizing queens of color and those without any
The true root of envy
Seen dark and mysterious
Contemplating our thinking
Judging our eyes & expression
Painted “Angry Black man”
It’s mere deflection

Watch your mess; Watch your success

ezspitted 11.5.13
© 2013
Photo Credit: (Elaine Thompson / AP)

Yea Though I Walk…

Head bowed and eyes to God
Recital hour of my heart
What’s my life’s mission?
Not my heart’s wishes but the love that I’m missing
Time’s ticking
The feeling of five minutes left on my test with blank scantron face down on my desk
Petitioning your throne for the answers and please don’t deny me
I know You have them
I picture You pointing towards a door with no knocker, no number
Or a trail leading to darkness
Implicitly you’ve equipped me with Psalms 23
Yet, feeling mocked explicitly
Why me?
Was I built for the punches of Ali?
Will my mental agility carry me?
Was I born the Jordan of a sport not yet adorned?
Surely I wasn’t born to mourn…

Prayers deep and heavy,
Carrying the burdens of my thoughts.
I’m feeling…as if they’re not even reaching the ceiling
Yet I remain
I say I won’t complain but in all honesty
Doubt enters my brain.
I’ve learned to at least acknowledge that.
For even Jesus asked “why”, in fact.
And hung til the sun refused to shine
And if You let Him suffer to buffer my stripes,
I know that hill brings me healing
And surely this pain with which I’m dealing pales
I’m learning to trust You.
I just don’t want to fail.
I’m mining. help me reach my goals/golds.
Whatever it is You chose
Your will be done
Just let me know,
Once more,

Truly Yours



© 2013