The Balanced News

Ms. Right, one for me,

I have loved you, since i can remember.
You have continued with me,
During the most challenging of times.

You always happen to carry what i need.
sometimes in a large purse,
usually in your large heart.

You have always been strong.
This no one could doubt.
You have always been sweet,
usually nearest to my heart.

Over the years, you have taken time for yourself.
You then, always did returned when i needed you.
I could never ask, only at times hope for your return.

More recently,
You have changed form and frequency
with increased speed and fluidity.
And now i am getting confused.

I recognized you so easily…
for four years and more.

Now, Would i recognize you in the mall?
Now, Would you even recognize me?

How could it go,
extension of hands,
followed with an embrace
for this…I hope.

What i want you to know,
is that i know you in my heart
Miss You, right one.

Sometimes we get this…

Lakewood Black …

The Anti-Virus Help
(a poem)

Anti-Virus
Anti-Virus

Help, Help
I need a virus

To kill my
Anti-Virus

To Certain Intellectuals

You are no friend of mine.
For I am poor,
Black,
Ignorant and Slow,-
Not Your Kind.
You Yourself
Have told me so, -
No friend of mine.

- Langston Hughes

Wake

Tell all my mourners
To mourn in red-
Cause there ain’t no sense
In my bein’ Dead

- LH

To be a goose
written by james spada

Wouldnt it be great
to sit by the pond.

Wouldnt it be great
to walk in the grass

wouldnt it be great
to float in the pond

wouldnt it be great
to lie all around

I want to be a
Duck!Duck!Duck!!

maybe
even one of the geese.

shame less
sleep less
point less
fame less

I walked in to the cafe, smoking a cigarrette

I walked in to the library, smoking a cigarrette

I walked in to my house, smoking a cigarrette

I walked in to my life, smoking a cigarrette

you told me it would help me die
…………………………….what a lie

the space widens with time

I sit here feeling like Hemmingway

wishing i was Henry David Thoreau,
Or maybe even Egar Alan Poe.

What would Whitman Say
……………down by the bay
making things out of…clay

maybe hey

That unloveability
is nothing more
than a neglect

a guarded neglect
maybe
a welcoming neglect
positively

I have never read Whitmam
I knew a girl way back
She loved the leaves of grass

She loved Dylan
the Lay, lay, lay

she loved to take her shoes off
cutting the collars on her t-shirts
no obstructions

she loved to look at the stars
she showed me the northern lights
who didnt long for space camp

She had several ponds
we went night swimming

she loved the smart invertabrate
she bought a stuffed one

she moved to a swamp
to admire the bugs

running down the hillside
off the dock, into the pond

into the water

how could i have been so intimidated
why did i know i would make it not work

why my greatest ability
has to be unloveablity
is a matter of chance

She told me one time that i had made her cry

could she have truly cared for me
it most likely, was the case

—

I am average.

I have an average life, with an average job.  I have an average place to life, not to big not to small.  I drive your average automobile, and have an average mobile telephone.

I make average comments, for instance: hello or nice to see you.

If i make a bowl of cereal, i pour in the cereal and then the milk, never the opposite, pretty average stuff.

I have average intelligence, average looks and average height.

I am my average.

Who is your Average?

a bit after high school my good friend adam told me
how he hung out with this “chick”

he just wanted to reach for her hand
when they walked close

i was like what… why?
where is the question?

a certain comfort
an expression of intimacy

i’m like seriously
you are a hippie

it was an inspiring acknowledgement
of a simple vulnerability

More recently in a time of fast
came a recognitized need

she of course needed a hug
but this lug, gave her a thud

it wouldnt have been decent
they both had others

that is excuses, that eliminate
the notion of pure vulnerability
I understand this is getting pretty lame
so i might as well take it to the next level
which doesn’t really matter since i live in a bubble

their is a cannon in D, rendition with lyrics
“how and when and when and where
will we touch againnnn”

Running away she clung
to the kittens in her purse

knowing she had won
she pulled out her prize

available weeks, and months
blocks to fill, tracks to pursue

dreaming of a mommy track
maybe hopeless, it fit

right there, well mannered
proven success, Tall

her moment of satiety
diminished in thoughts

future conversations
apathetic boredom

she challenged another track
brushed to his side

the welcoming smile
showing all its intention

hidden from her running eyes
tears to come, boxed out

the next month in her calendar
Strong Work Ethic Arrived

etched from years of experience
Only The Strong Survived!

take two and call me in the morning
her psychiatrist pensively said

She slowly awoke from her nightmare
rejuvenated, high and ready to fly

strong work ethic echos
leading the race

it never weared on her beauty
only her grace