I need to be a better man

I’m tired, that’s no excuse for the way I’ve been treating you. Coming round your house late at night to vent. You bring out the coffee, make it a special event. Then you respond to the words I say. And my answer is “No, I didn’t mean it that way.” Then I won’t let go when you ask me to halt. And though I know it’s not your fault, I take it out on you. In no way violent or rude but I twist my words to change the mood. And I take it out on you.

I’m sullen and sad. I hate myself for getting mad. I need to quit talking but I can’t stop. I’m filled with emotion bout ready to pop. And, if that happens,it’ll be a mess and I’ll cause you pain, cause you distress and that’s no way to treat a friend. It has to end. It has to end. Whatever it is I’m going through, I can’t keep taking it out on you.

I need to be a better man. I need to be better man. I pray each night, “God show me the plan.” I need to be a better man.

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, aging, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, dreams, Love, Memoir, Money, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

I’ve Got Love (a song)

Don’t want to spend my lifetime worryin.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

I’m in no rush. I’m not hurryin.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

You’ve got your billions, your electric cars.

You’re building space ships so you can die on Mars.

Here’s what I’m thinkin when I look up at the stars…

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

You’ve got one laptop with a naked cocaine slide.

I’ve got love

I’ve got love.

Then there’s another that shows a big shot’s hater side.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

One is the hunter. The other is the tucker.

They’re callin in the punter. The defense oughta pluck ‘er.

I’ve changed my name to Gunter. I’m a Monster Motor Trucker.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

Love can turn the tide. Love can go the flow.

Love can let it ride and let the whole world know.

Empires can crumble. A king’s bones will turn to ash.

Roll the dice, let them tumble. Spend all your folding cash.

Ask me how I stay humble and strong before the lash.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

You can start your circus turning one against another.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

You can lead the chorus, “He’s too heavy to be my brother.”

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

You can make the people swoon, promise everything to everyone.

You can look up at the moon and say, “From now on that’s the sun.”

I’ve got time for one more tune, after that, my set is done.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

Love can turn the tide. Love can go the flow.

Love can let it ride and let the whole world know.

Empires can crumble. A king’s bones can turn to ash.

Roll the dice, let them tumble. Spend all your folding cash.

Ask me how I stay humble and strong before the lash.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

The light that made me stumble came from a spark, it weren’t no flash.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

I’ve got love.

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, aging, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, dreams, humor, Love, Memoir, Money, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, song, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

The Fix Is In

She was singing up a storm/Puttin on a show/Had the audience in her palm/Still the judges told her no/The fix is in/The fix is in/They’ll tell you, “Sorry. So sorry. Next year, you’re sure to win.”/The fix is in/The fix is in.

You were bobbin and weaving/All your punches seemed to land./At the end of the evening/Up went the other fighter’s hand/The fix is in/The fix is in/The hardest blow, y’all,is a call/so bad it makes you grin/The fix is in/The fix is in.

The poet can’t make a living/The Black man can’t buy a house/Your boss goes around giving/bullshit reasons why  you’ve nothing to gripe about.

Billionaires in Congress say they’re servants to the nation/Then tell the rest of us we’re the reason for inflation/The fix is in/The fix is in/Give us your tired, huddled masses/and we’ll turn them into spin/The fix is in/The fix is in.

I’ve got a wall I’d like to sell ya/Let the bidding war begin/The fix is in/The fix is in

All I can tell you is/at least I am not him/The fix is in/The fix is in/It’s so far in/The fix is in.

Posted in aging, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, dreams, Love, Memoir, Money, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, song, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

How Many Times

How many times do I have to start over?/How many times do I have to begin, again?/Went from knee walkin drunk to many years sober/Some folks call me quitter but I consider it a win.

It’s not like I’m crying, I wouldn’t change a thing that’s happened/Good times or bad, I’m sure you’ve heard this all before/When Christ was dying, did it catch the Father napping?/Or was it the pub crawl that had him passed out on the floor?

So many questions for which there’s no answer/So many chances, I have to say I’ve lost count/Back in the day, I was a very good dancer/It took a toll on my knees/An ungodly amount.

How many times will I come up with excuses/How many times will I say it wasn’t me/This might be the time I become something more than useless/This might be the time/but I’m makin no guarantee.

How many times will I have to start over?/How many times do I have left in me?/How many times do I have left in me?

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, aging, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, dreams, humor, Love, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, song, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Ain’t That The Blues

The exhaust from your engine starts blowin white smoke/For no reason, you’re grinnin, thinkin, “This is no joke.”/Ain’t that the Blues/Ain’t that the Blues/You’re hoping it ain’t broken/Just battered and bruised/Ain’t that the Blues.

One night, your partner’s a little loose at the latches/starts kickin your caboose, slappin’ your face and leavin scratches./Ain’t that the Blues/Ain’t that the Blues/Ain’t nothing broken/You’re just battered and bruised/Ain’t that the Blues.

Your grandma said/”you won’t survive the street”/You proved her wrong/Folks called you stupid/called you weak/called you words no one should speak/Now, here you are, standing strong./So strong.

Your test was free of drugs but you peed 15 minutes late/The Man said, “Prison bound my thug and you know I just can’t wait.”/Ain’t that the Blues/Ain’t that the Blues/The system is broken/leaving you battered and bruised/Ain’t that the Blues.

He was kicked out of the bar and he was choking you to death/Your eyes saw only stars and you were running out of breath/Ain’t that the Blues/Ain’t that the Blues/His hold finally broken/left you gasping, beat and bruised/Ain’t that the Blues.

For all that you suffered, you know some have suffered more/Share your story. Share your strength. Help them make it through the door/Ain’t that the Blues/Ain’t that the Blues/Let them know they ain’t broken/just battered and bruised/Ain’t that the Blues.

Ain’t that the Blues.

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, aging, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, dreams, eighties, Fiction, Love, Memoir, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, song, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Not What I Expected

I was afraid

his mother and

maternal grand

father would teach

him to hate and

hurt women.

I never thought

the lesson

learned

would be to

hate and

hurt

himself.

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, aging, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, dreams, Love, Memoir, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Together

If can hustle like I

hustled yesterday

everyday

today today

then I’d be on my way

to a better day.

I’d be on my way.

I’d be on my way.

If I could love you like

I loved you when we

were young

When the bells

of heaven rung and

our song was sung

love songs were sung

and the deal was done.

The deal was done.

And the hustle and the

love’s still inside me and

with you beside me

there ain’t nothing we

can’t do together.

There ain’t nothing

we can’t do

together.

There ain’t nothing

we can’t do.

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, aging, Blues, Co-Dependency, dreams, humor, Love, Memoir, Money, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, song, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Conversations With Self Tok

These kind of days happen.

Days waiting to get my car

fixed. Days waiting too long

to hustle cash. It’s always been

this way. Always.

Sometimes, I think,

too late, I’ve found the

way to lasting love,

comfort and

prosperity

though

the

anxious

big voice

inside has

found its pulpit and

is amping up its

campaign

to put

me in

my

place

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, aging, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, dreams, eighties, Fiction, humor, Love, Memoir, Money, movie review,, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, song, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Who’s There

My head is full.

My heart is full.

I have so much to tell you

So much is going on

Inside.

I have so much to tell you

when it’s time.

When it’s time.

They are not ready yet

for you to see them.

The stories.

They tell me, “We’ll show

up when we’re damn well

ready. Your job is to

open the gates

when we

knock.”

Posted in aging, Blues, dreams, Fiction, Love, Memoir, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, song, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

What To Do

Did my Spanish lesson

first thing.

Now, I have to clean

my car, take a

shower and put

100 dollars

in the bank.

Going to

book some

gigs for the season,

find a mechanic

I can afford,

workout

and

finish

this

prose

poem.

Posted in dreams, humor, Memoir, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, Uncategorized | Leave a comment