Saturday, September 16, 2006

Your Eyes Are Telling


Your eyes are telling me things that I want to hear,
They whisper your thoughts and invade every orifice humbling me.
Your eyes are telling me that infinity is not just a word,
That with every blink you open one million more possibilities.
I see galaxies and quasars in your irises,
I see beauty marks peppered in your skin for every freckle.
Your eyes are telling the future,
And the mysticism is too much for me to not look away.
But I want to know the future
I realize the urgency of the matter
That I once knew you and you knew me at a different time.
I realize that it’s only been a week
But every time I speak I want to say your name.
I wonder to myself, and sit and think everyday, why we do the things we do.
Are we all bound to make mistakes, or is this a slow R&B joint.
Every time you listen to it, it brings you back to that moment of strange happiness.
If we are not meant to be, why did we enter each others lives?
I still wonder about that question daily.
I look into your eyes and wonder why we aren’t talking
It’s like being kicked into a deep sea, and I’ve drowned.
What makes me miss you?
I don’t know, but my heart is heavy never the less.
I’ve heard you have someone new, and that makes me so happy.
You heart is large and I’m glad you found someone to fill that.
You’re more deserving of that then anyone I know.
Your eyes always see greatness in people.
The power of a smile, kindness in a touch, sweetness in a kiss.
I take in your gaze knowing this may be it.
That was you to me, my joy as well as my pain.
But your eyes they are telling me everything that I want to hear…
But your lips won’t say…
Won’t say…

© October 2005
Staats

Monday, September 11, 2006

I Am


One year later I am falling
Not from 105th street, but from the 105th floor
I am falling not to my death, but to my life
I am the firefighter who’s only hope is to help people as the WORLD falls at my feet
I am a worker down the street looking at a movie cause all I see is black and white.
As my modern day nuclear winter rains down on New York City my mind flashes to scenes from Independence Day
And I wonder will 9/11 ever give me any freedom from the hold that it has taken on the world.
I am strapped in my seat belt on American Airlines thinking if I die today will it prevent others from dying tomorrow.
I am Scarface saying ‘I never seen a man cry until I seen a man die.’
I am Jay-Z and I can’t see them coming down my eyes but I got to make this poem cry.
I am the brother who can’t tell my sister I’m sorry for the fight last night
The father who will ever see my son become the man I know he can be
I am the son conceived without my Dad ever knowing and me never knowing him.
I am the family member who is tired of being exploited by a fascist game of chest, as if I’m the pawn for America.

Pawn takes Rook, America Strikes Back
Knight takes Pawn, a college student in the reserves shipped off to Iraq.
Queen to castle, flags, berets, calendars, World Trade Center paraphernalia a capitalist society capitalizing on a country’s heartache and pain.
King advances to King, Bush to Hussein press forward ready to bring the Free World to its knees.
One move to checkmate, one move to Armageddon.
I am the spirit of peace to the soul of a broken world, embodied in the children and family of those lost.
I am strength where a nation threatens to fall.
I am a celebration of life.
I am a college student, 19 years old, late for class, turning on my TV thinking I left the channel on HBO, because America is on
Fire and the world is holding its breath.
And it can’t be real.
I am a son waiting by the phone for my father to call.
You know he still works down the street from the Pentagon.
One year later I still am.

© September 2002
Staats

Friday, September 08, 2006

What's In A Name?


Why bother to get to know me?
While introducing yourself does my appearance immediately appear too strong?
You've already decided that my curly hair against dark brown skin is too aggressive.
So when you hear my non-traditional name you look for ways to emasculate me.
My name is not pretty.
It is strong, bold, if anything handsome.
My name is not different or weird.
It is unique, uncommon, a not ur average moniker.
Do not look for ways to trivialize my existence.
I am not to be watered down as to suit your palette.
I will not fit in your box of how I should look, act, or sound.
My name is what it is.
And it defines me.
Don't try to familiarize it with something you've heard before.
Nor try to rhyme it with the 1st thing that comes to mind.
You won't hear it in a Dr. Seuss scheme or find it on a key chain.
If I say every syllable so you can hear the phonetics in it
You claim that you aren't slow.
So why do you keep referring to the indentation after the 'e' as an asterisk?
It's an accent.
To bring emphasis to the fact that you are unaware of my complexity.
Do not give me nicknames, abbreviations, or massacre who I am.
What does a man have but his name?
It is not urban, African, have any mystic connotation.
It is me.
And without my full name you will never really know me.
Deonte'.

Staats
© September 2006