Inventory #REMIX

My Mother once told me that her father was the type of man who hated not being the smartest man in the room/

And although I am not as obsessive as grandpa/

I will beat myself up for not being better between the ears/

Unfortunately, beating yourself up is not a good strategy for winning anything/

Even the smartest of the smart, know they don't know everything/ 

The smartest also know that your mental approach is key when opening locked doors when success is on its opposite side/

If you beat yourself up/ think you won’t win/ not good enough to win/ or better yet/ feel lucky to even be in the position to play/

You will more than likely lose every time/

Just happy to be in the play – offs/ gets you swept in the 1^st round/

Self-discipline is hard enough without the self-inflicted beat down/

What seems to work better than frustration is adaptation/

What seems to be a big part of the solution is evolution/

What seems to stimulate positive production is negative destruction/

So pardon me as I take inventory of my old house so that I may move a new/

My 1^st stop/ is at the cigar box/ in my home office that gives birth to thought/

I open the box and so many creations are wrapped in lyricism and metaphor like cigar paper/

I see old perceptions of what love should be/ blow away like burning ash to make way for the fire love is/

Moving on to the spice rack/ Just below the cupboard of my passions/

I see inspiration just between the cayenne and the pepper/

Many dashes go over my brushed off shoulders and into a steaming pot of water/

Drops of passion overflow as oxygen gets released from the blood in my pumping heart/

The beauty is in its simplicity/

To some its transparency is perceived as weakness/

Must be why they point arrows at the dragon’s chest/

The arrows never kill him/ but they do make him mad on rare occasion/ 

Somehow I identify with his annoyance completely/

My wings spread from my back/ looking like Samuel Jack/ in the role of the Archangel Gabriel/

Moving forward through this motherfucking house I step/

The team greats me and shows me the city where my home resides/

Sacramento/

I can almost hear the trumpets blow/

All the while poets hitting me with bars and game/

A peace sign and a raised glass goes to all language lovers/

Let’s step out of the kitchen and continue with the inventory/

My living room is filled/

Looks like I've got company/

Cats that are one man shows/ Improvisation aficionados/ spirits that spin free as the wind/

Minds that spin like open faced watches/

Onto the bedroom/ a tree is in the corner/

It protects me from myself at night/

Sap drips from the bark like the tears from lonely prayer/

Slowly down the wood it goes/

A bed is here telling my lips to keep a secret so I follow suit like the Queen and King of Hearts/

Onto the patio I see the moon I share with the universe/ it reminds me of my selfish ways/

I want her all to myself/

I want the universe to know that she belongs to me/

I don’t apologize for this verse for they see your light inside my eyes/

Let’s move forward to the dining room/

A meal is on the table/

A hot dish with spiritual vitamins/

I take small bites hoping the flavor will last longer/

Beyond the plane of the physical/

A taste my soul will remember/

A Napkin at the corners of my mouth before I start walking to the closet door/

Pause/

My vengeance lives in here/

He’s 12 years old/ he’s shy and he’s the ugliest child you've ever seen/

Because I feed him disappointment/

Love finds a way to make him beautiful/

No apology for the verse but an apology to a darker me/

For not adding more sunlit readings, writing and prayer/

I am determined to change his diet to blessings and appreciation/

Inventory now tallied at the conclusion/

I move forward appreciative knowing that the blessings are endless/

GB