Kickin' It With Compassion
The problem with you
Compassion
is you really don't know
how weak you make me look
You think you are a companion
but I see you as a stalker
A Grim Reaper of sorts
seeking to devour my soul
and rob me of my joy.
Lurking, hiding in the tune
of every slow jam
slithering just below the light of
television
causing tears to flood my insides
You think I don't hear you
whispering in my phone calls?
You think I don't see you
concealed between the lines
of my news paper?
Why the hell don't you leave me alone!?
Stop pretending to be a mother
whose child has been murdered
Stop invading my memories of those
who have gone to Heaven
How in God's name did you get
into my pillow?
My dreams are my own
You and your best buddies, Pity
and Grief are health hazards even as
I sleep
Everywhere I turn you three stooges
are there to steal the fun from my
Day
Compassion, I can't take it anymore
I need you gone, so I can move on
I'm strong and go for bad, I'm a
tough guy--a "G". and I can't be
seen with you or your dim-wit
home-boys
Man, I won't wear shades, and I'm
not going to cover my face to hide my eyes
If I do--trust and believe--
they'll be dry.
--Darryl Gwaltney-Bey
2013
2014 jun 27
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2014 jan 9
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2014 jan 9
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2013 dec 1
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2013 oct 3
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2013 sep 27
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