My iPod & I cruised in a slow throb around the brown side of town,
Where Lolitas in tube-tops & booty-shorts set flames inside
A papi's cartoon eyes.
Outside the local bodega, old men of espanol descent, style
Straw chapeaus & engage in dominoes while low-riders blast
High decibel Salsa as flashing ojos watch me on
The Sly.
I’m just a vacancy inside my own hotel of thought, too distracted
To care if I happen to wear that darker skin of suspicion.
In some dens, I realize, I am hated by proxy. See, I know
The lingo of assholes. I know how people can silently curse me,
And say fuck you(!)... with a shrug of their shoulder.
But I was casually shopping for JOY. I said, JOY! Damn it!
No, not the dish-washing detergent!
No! Not that shit most folks rent in cans of Bud or
Heineken! No! I don't need a six-pack of Corona, mi amigo!
Joy! Felice!
Umm… Can a brotha get an interpreter up in this piece?
Apparently, they were out of stock, again! I copped my usual
Newports, said gracias... &... I stubbornly tipped eastward.
I was seeking the simplicity of JOY in a cool summer's breeze,
In a smile from an aging stranger, in a sighting of swift
Black girl's feet jumping in double-dutch rhythms: yobaby,
Yobaby, yo!
I was seeking JOY, because sometimes I can't find it in the noise of
My thoughts, in my iPod, or in Jill Scott’s voice. I could not find it
In the arms that sometimes soothe my so-called savaged beast.
I could not see it in the blue-gold-burgundy flaming sunset, or in
Those denim-clad nymphettes & mascara-wearing Angels downtown, yo.
I could not taste it in that surreptitious Rasta’s product
After the sale goes down... could not find it in that slim joint
Of light that sometimes keeps me strangled in the scenery of
Empty laughter & coughing Cadillacs, low-riders, st. toughs, &
Nubile Lolitas in tube-tops & booty-shorts setting
Flames inside a papi's cartoon eyes.
The moral of this shit: Joy-snatching & Hell-catching
Are sometimes just concepts that collide like drunken
Planets out of orbit, out of time with this waltz of life, out
Of tune with the cosmic synchronicity, out of step with the
Routine universality, out of rhythm, the rhythm of the time
And space continuum.
JOY is a rare commodity. Maybe it's inherent in our chemistry
And maybe... it isn’t. But maybe only fools & dreamers believe
They can purchase it. And if you’re irrational enough to go
Looking for it, sometimes the whole damn world will shrug
And simply say, Fuck you! with its shoulders.
Me? I’m determined to snatch a little piece anyway, once
I can decipher its language, read it in a kind stranger’s eyes,
Figure out its handshake, discover its natural high, & simply
Learn to roll with it. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure it's embedded
Somewhere inside that street corner symphony of my soul.
One.
copyright © 2010 by L.M. Ross
12 comments:
I'm never disappointed when I come here. You have such an original voice. Enjoyed this piece very much....
You are trully gifted handsome. Trully gifted and you have lifted me once again on this day. Thank you for sharing your talent.
"I’m just a vacancy inside my own hotel of thought"
Great piece bruh! Dope lines for days. The words paint picures...Salute!
I love your new layout. And your words are so full of emotion and truth.....
Sometimes we forget and want that quick fix, yes? Then, once it's gone, has traveled its course, we realize that the only way to sustain happiness is to nurture and grow from within.
Love your thoughts, expression, and style all day long!
I loved this! Just as much if not more than anything you have ever written. You have always instructed, preached, and encouraged me and your other followers to "snatch joy" and i have been encouraged to do so. To be in that place where JOY alludes us, is a lonely place for sure. Thanks for this my friend...i feel like i was sitting beside you, riding shotgun, right there, and there isn't any other place i wanted to be...but at the end of the day you surmised this piece so rightly so...JOY is in us :)
you can't see right now, but I'm clapping. good writing, right there
Come over my dear friend and I'll dish you up some joy in the form of southern cookin and good ole banana puddin'. I owe you that :)
Remember- no one can snatch you of your joy- unless you allow it to happen.
Love you *hugs*
Joy, huh? I so feel you on 'needing an interpreter' as I feel the same when I find my joy on the dance floor and my Latin partner decides to talk to me in Spanish. As my Latin dace skills are far better than my language skills I have no clue what they are saying.
Thanks for stopping by my spot. Hope you come back and leave your thoughts again soon. Enjoyed the post.
Thought provoking as always. I wonder what is underneath this post? Where are you speaking from? Of courdse I am going to lay these words over my own life and see what fits. I suspect a great deal...underneath.
@ Lovebabz:
Hey, Sista. I wasn't purposely trying to be enigmatic here, I swear.
You see, sometimes just being out & about in my community can bring a certain amount of personal pleasure to me... & it can restart my engine & revitalize my spirit. Sometimes, it's just the opposite.
So the moral is: the simple pleasure/JOY I (and we all) seek has to come from no other source and no other stimuli but the Self.
That's it. That's all.
SJ!
One.
Lin
Absolutely profound! I love the way you take us on journey that suspends time as though sitting on your shoulder as you venture into the world that gives us both the side eye and one of envy.
This says it all for me..."Joy-snatching & Hell-catching
Are sometimes just concepts that collide like drunken
Planets out of orbit". I think I learned that this past week, whether I wanted to or not.
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