Bored With Me

Im bored with me
with my whinings and worryings
my problems and idiosyncracies

the world is much bigger
there is more to care about
think about
contribute to
withdraw from

It's selfish actually
to get lost in the thought of me
the musings of me
inserting you into my
little dreams, little expressions
disregarding the neverending needs
of a heard voice
the millions of outcries
for a caring ear
the emotional bags searching
for a strong shoulder
while I turn deaf ear and blinded eyes
staring at only you

It's ridiculous, actually
the all consumed selfishness
therefore, I better clear my mind
refocus my internal lens
and soundly re-evaluate
me

Discover Kai

I am flowing
bursting
stretching the seams and
entering a new frontier
a space renewed and a
genuine self acceptance.
Releasing rejection, pain
dismay and despair

I am discovering me

Defining me
reaching deep within to
scoop out handfuls of
intimate thoughts and
spiritual beliefs

Do you see me? Finally?
Past the plain exterior,
muted down and taking cover
hiding to heal and
oblivious, to belong

Now, you can find me
accepting intelligence from a
different package
want and desire from a
different wrapping
determination via a
new and improved process

Are you interested?
Do you want to learn me,
Can't you, won't you
take the time to
Discover Kai?

Them Eyes

Somehow, I forgot
about those eyes of yours

I stand here surprised and
taken back because
best I remembered
it was your smile that
lit up the hall and
planted a mark on my brain

So it's unthinkable that
those spheres
staring at me now
like golden nuggets
submerged in ancient earth
escaped my memory...................................................

The remainder of this poem, and all other poems posted in September 2006, can be found at Discover Kai Poetry, Cherished Beginnings. Order your free* copy today.
*shipping and handling not included*

95Muse

Is that you?
In that tailored suit jacket
Button down vest
Open collar shirt?

Let me find out...

So, is this how they are formed?
Because I have always wondered,
how boys become men.

Cause when I see a real man,
I can't even begin to image
the little boy in him

Like, Michael Eric Dyson
Was he ever a little boy?
The intellectual ones,
with their suits and vests,
and all that edumacation [sic]
seem to me to be
the sexiest of all.

Fearless existence
that our community once ridiculed
Cultivating power, procurement and class

Respecting education
for the sake of:
Education

Teaching and spreading
Despite the limited financial return

Isn't that the real warrior, after all?
Not the clappers and the pimps,
But a brotha in the urban/suburban trenches
freeing your mind
feeding your intellect
with his poetic prose

When were you ever a boy?

So, you joined the ranks, huh?
Parlaying scientific wisdom
into a delectable pallet
spoon feeding our malnutritioned seed.

Damn, I can't stop staring at you!

Yeah, I remember the boy in you.
New York, Tribe Called Quest stylin
Baggy clothes and navy blue knit hat
sloppily thrown on your
mounds of powerful locks
Samson's glory.

I thought you beautiful.

I hid and scoped you from afar.
The chiseled face
always calm and emotionless
Harlem hard, at all costs.

But you began to shed it
The layers of clothes peeling away
Dimensions of the New York politic
relaxed and open
You precious mane
released

Then I approached with reserve
and spoke to you
Your speak blew my mind
Cool and collected
Like a strong hand on the small of my back

I didn't expect it,
to click on that level
the rush of adoration I felt for you
too much
so, again, I hid.

And you let go, far too easily
I was worth the effort,
I promise
At least some friction

But I kept watch
and you steadily evolved
the grit exploding your popularity
into campus super stardom

So life moved on
I left
95 matured strong
success at every turn

Here you stand,
Over a decade later
in your tailored suit jacket
I am still
a silent observer
your professor vibe certain
Your beauty an iridescent glow.

So this is how a boy becomes a man.