xingavi [BLOGGER PREVIEW]

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Friday, April 29, 2005

Saturday, March 26, 2005

mmm MMph!

Mango haagen daaz is da schiznit!
After a hard day's work out...

That man

xingavi
Who is that man on my couch?
Who left his baggage at my door?
Sometimes I trip on it on the way out
Kick it open entrails spilling over
Personal histories splayed out everywhichway
Half eaten meals doggy bagged
From half remembered tables with company
Mostly forgotten

Who is that man in my ride?
Whose head I shaved and missed a spot or two
He didnât know
Until someone pointed it out
Somewhere late in the day
Too late to matter too early to affect tomorrow
People notice when its clean and wish to touch it
Decade or so ago
He had locks past his shoulders
People wished to touch that too
Even though it wasnât trendy yet
Popularized bastardized by traitors
Imposters that are a mystery even unto themselves
Sleeper cells under the spell

Who is that man sitting at my table?
Who was/is mostly misunderstood.
By almost all around
Not because he speaks not
Because his reality is almost a quantum singularity
Lovers professed love in word or momentary deed
Only turning
Slowly like a dagger in
The flesh in denial resisting unbelieving
The slow motion violation
Of a trust held inviolate.
These ex hot comb assassins
Locks au naturale
A mask wanting to be tied
Back in a pony tail
Waiting to be dyed blonde
To bond with the historically hysterical accuser
Of black manhood.

Who is that man on my sofa?
In tangled linens
Who everyday renews his persistence
Renews his resistance
To falling on the wayside
Falling
From the frying pan into the fire
The phoenix is reformed
Reborn and found flight

Tangled in linen straight out of surreal dreams
Crooked feet on a straight uneven path
Jagged rocks broken glass under foot
The ones that came before left too early
Those that came later ran this way and that
Travel mates took detours
Diverting from the itinerary
that man though not old is travel weary

I looked at that man
Held a mirror to his face
Stared straight into my eyes
Remembering
When you were a boy
Women cooed and ahhed
Held you in their lap and sang songs
Waved away your fears and tears
Through the years the tunes turned blue
Turned in on themselves turned in on you
Turned you in turned you out threw you out
Taunted threatened and dared Poked prodded and jeered
Made you wonder why you ever cared
Why you ever shared
The major and minor aspects of your existence
While the listeners straddled the fence

(There are a select few
that do
believe
that are witness to the witlessness and folly
so melancholy baby,
Howl, how long can this go on?)

Who is that man
That sometimes looks at you with an eyebrow cocked
A habit that is pre âThe Rockâ
More like Mr. Spock saying âHow illogicalâ
Watching those helmeted not men
Who signed on as linemen
For the other side
Successfully sacked our quarterback
Somehow he launched a âHail Maryâ to his babies
50 yards In the end zone
When the pass came down
When the pass came down
They listened to the crowd
Forgot the huddle forgot the plan
Forgot their team colors
They even forgot their own name.

They turned around
Asking the crowd
Who is that man
That threw his heart out to me?

Â© Shingavi 3/26/05