Woman To Player
You hound me for my number like
it’s such a crucial thing,
but then I give it to you and
my phone don’t ever ring.
You say you gone so much ‘cause you
just “handlin’ your biz,’”
but if your “biz” ain’t playin’ mind games,
then I don’t know what is.
Been tryin’ to find you for three days –
you gone without a trace –
then got the nerve to call me from
your babymama’s place?
And oh, speakin’ of mamas: why
you still livin’ with yours?
A damn-near thirty-year-old man
still doin’ teenage chores.
Instead of goin’ to work or school
for some financial gain,
you spend your days with video games
and nights with Mary Jane,
but while you always have enough
for clothes, new shoes, and ice,
your ends don’t fail to fall short when
I just want somethin’ nice.
Keep this in mind for the next time
you wanna step to me:
a boy must first become the man
that he pretends to be.
(© 1999 Marcus Harris, originally published in Songs In Search Of A Voice)
Player to Woman
I’m tired of always hearin’ how
you dog me to your friends,
complainin’ ‘bout how cheap I am
‘cause I don’t share my ends.
Spend all your dough on weaves and nails,
so how can you get hot
when I won’t spoil you ‘cause you waste
what you already got?
I gotta have fresh clothes and gear
to keep me lookin’ fly,
‘cause if I don’t, then you’ll just quit
me for a flyer guy,
and when I’m hangin’ with my boys –
which I know ain’t no sin –
I can’t be gone ten minutes ‘fore
you page me to check-in.
You always think I’m tryin’ to creep –
like all men just can’t wait –
but just because the hook is there,
don’t mean I’ll take the bait.
Remember this each time you think
my life is yours to run:
already got a mama – I
don’t need another one.
(© 1999 Marcus Harris, originally published in Songs In Search Of A Voice)
Consequences
Every day
it takes 18 years to smoke, vote,
see R-rated flicks,
in 21 we can hit the cut and
take a little sip -
but at 14 we can share cells
with 40-year-old Crips…
and how can it be
at 17 I can lose my life fightin’ countries
that never threaten it
to defend the one I was born in,
which never respects it -
’cause it lets me lose it at 12
at the hands of those sworn to protect it?
And it’s sad how
20 seconds of fun can cost us
20 years of pleadin’
while Wall Street brokers steal life savings
from grandmas who need ’em -
but dirty cops are the baddest crooks,
’cause they can steal your freedom…
how
do you change a rigged game
that’s been designed
to put adult consequences
on juvenile minds?
(© 2017 Marcus Harris, originally published in #snapshot)
Chloe’s Smile
Jabari called it
the sun,
Braxton said it’s like
the moon -
they’re half-right…
Chloe’s smile
is
the glow of the morning star,
delicate,
timeless,
like a diamond…
Chloe’s smile
is
as strong as
the promises the sun streaks
across the sky,
decorating
the dark heavenly canvas
left empty as
the soft waning crescent
fades into
the shadows…
Chloe’s smile
is
not the similes, the metaphors,
it’s
not the parts -
it’s
the whole,
the quiet, powerful poetry of
the dawn.
(© 2017 Marcus Harris, originally published in #snapshot)