Betsy Hears a Boo

by Sista Seuss (who is me and this is rough)

On the tenth day of May, at an HBCU
in the heat of the gowns and the chill of the crowds
Betsy sauntered right in and changed all their moods.
They were graduating and had no time for fools, that's when
Betsy heard a noise, a very loud BOO!

She looked at Omarosa, who she thought had her back.
She didn’t think she’d be hassled if she brought her friend, black.
But the graduates wasn’t having it was their damn day first!
They didn’t earn a degree to have their celebration cursed!
If she could shyt on their day they could shyt on hers too.
They turned their back, and gave another loud round of boo!

So this part’s in my brain, specifically my mind,
and because I'm fresh out of fucks, it may come off unkind.
I imagine the graduates saw their HBCU, not on their side.
I mean have you forgotten the administration where this woman resides?
Did you hear all the cuts propose to attack students at risk?
Did you forget that all your students/ graduates look just like this?

Did you forget how she questioned if funding black was constitutional?
Should you have consider a speaker who attended an HBCU, or am I just delusional?
Did you consider for a moment that her intention might be fake?
Did she offer you incentives? Is it money that you’ll make?
I imagine your graduates were fresh out of fucks too,
so, completely out of fucks but filled to the brim with boo.

The threat to mail their diplomas as if they didn’t earn their day?
To forget that this administration on last week threaten to take funding away?
I only hope that one of those graduates gets it in his/her/or they minds,
to take your job, cause it might be about time.
The fact that you as educator would invite a living diss,
all that teaching, but their educators haven't learned shyt.

And if Trump and Betsy gets the chance to take funding away,
I know she'll remember all the boos her ass received today.

The Third Time is Phucking Free.

I had a moment today that put one of my confusing to myself perspectives in clearer view. I give folk three chances in most things, even love and this is bad. Who needs their heart broken by the same person three times? Well, me apparently. Working on that mostly by staying away from anything or one that might get a hopeless romantic going, it's all I got for now, still healing.

Today I went shopping to make the bomb ass Enchilada Casserole, see picture below, and I used a coupon that is worded strangely and every time I use one of them the cashier has no fucking idea what she/he/they are doing. Every. Fucking. Time.

This time the cashier has given the coupon too much value.

I know what the phuck you're thinking, a deeper discount just take it and go, And I hear you, but Karma is a fuck place with GPS and sometimes I am too damn honest for my own good. Ask my ex's.

So I say to her, well it should actually be for $2.19 not 3 dollars. She looks at me like I slapped her dog and called her stupid.

I got a neck roll y'all.

She read the coupon back to me like I was stupid and she slapped my dog. She so fuckin lucky I don't have a dog. So I just said, no I wasn't judging the coupon, it's worded funny, just thought you should know.

I got a teeth suck y'all.

She read it again, pointing at the words, loudly. I gave her a Dora the Explorer stare, you know the one where you hear the blink. That was the third time so I accepted the discount. This way I can show Karma the receipt and be like, Heffa look.

This thing reminds me of the free dryer. Not hair a dryer but the big ass thing that dries wet clothes, that dryer. It was the same thing. I went to buy it ran my credit card a second before

remembering that I put the $300 limit cause the holidays and I was spending entirely too much money on relationships that I was the only one who thought that's what that was. Of course the card was declined. I told them why it declined. They looked at me like,"Yeah, sure that's why." Told them I'd be back in 20 minutes just leave it where it is. I came back 18 minutes later. Walked up to the service counter where my new shiny ass dryer sat looking at me like, "Yeah, I'm going home with you tonight!"

My turn. I tell the cashier that I am here to pay for my dryer and I point to it proudly. She pulls off the paperwork attached and says,

Her -"You taking it now or do you want it delivered?"

Me- "Delivered."

Her- "What's your address?" I tell her.

Her- "Thursday morning OK?"

Me - "Thursday morning is great!"

Her- "Ok, NEXT."

Me- "I need to pay you."

Her - "It's paid for, you wanna another copy of the receipt?"

Me- "No I haven't paid yet."

Her- (pointing at the receipt like I'm stupid) "What does that say?

Me- "Paid. But I's not cause..." She cuts me off.

Her - "Are you Theresa Davis?"

Me- "Yes, but."

Her- "Do you live at (she says my address loudly and I'm like oh yea, tell the stalkers everything why the phuck don't ya in my brain and starting to get irritated)

Me - "Yes, but"

Her - "Here's the copy of your receipt and it will be delivered on Thursday."

That was the third time.

Free dryer with no threat of Karma coming back at me and if this person's drawer came up several hundred dollars short, she brought that shyt on herself three times.

So it's a good policy with stuff, but I gotta not do it with my heart. Gotta try something new there.

There is only so much tape.

There are only so many poems.

That's a lie, There are tons of poems.

see.

Too fucking honest!

18/30 Sweet

when my children find joy in a thing

I want to bask in their happiness

as long as I can

my son has this way

of making me laugh

at unexpected times

asking for snacks

celebrating the little things

I cleaned my room without being told

he says

this seems like a great time for cake!

the way he explains how cake

is the perfect food and if it's carrot cake

it's even better

he is not over exposed to sweets

but when it comes to cake he

can not stop himself

a self proclaimed cake connoisseur

he takes every slice seriously

thinking deeply over each bite

helpful suggestions on how

cake

can be done better

it has become a thing we do

at least once a month

where we seek out new cake

to try

over conversations

about

being a teenage boy

and girls

my favorite cake with him

was the double chocolate raspberry

after the first bite he put his fork down

looked at me seriously

there were tears in his eyes

he said this is probably

the most delicious cake

I have ever eaten

all I heard was

mom I love you so much

and thank you

we indulge on our cake dates

because we enjoy

the prolonged

exposure

to sweet

17/30 Jazz

makes me think of dancing

under a moon

not quite full

but it wants to be a kiss on the mouth

holding hands

taking over the world

tickling keys

drums in the background

a steady beat

dancing tongues

the morning comes sooner than expected

the sky lightens

but we keep moving

mellow and magic

the best of all the feelings

the motion more mysterious

we move

like if we keep dancing the way we do

morning won't come

we won't have to stop

go back to the mundane

everyday existence

we were desperate to escape from

so we focus on the moving

in the moment

16/30 Singe

the morning after I wrote you

the words sticky on the page

I thought of all the things  

I should have kept to myself

the doubt of how much to say

clouded my thoughts just enough

my tongue freed up by my pen

I said more than I thought possible

how could I write about this

I think

how can the words come so easy on paper

an an envelope with a stamp

not from a body standing in front of another body

so, I wrote

about the love and fear of love

lost in translation

about the fire

lodged in my throat

about the way

you only see me in pieces

crack in the foundations

and crumbling wall

I told you the story of how

I was once a dragon lady

my job to keep everything out

burn it away with my flaming tongue

how you were the cool

I needed

the ice on a burn

a calming effect

how with you my hands

no longer clawed at

but

embraced

held strong

I don't miss those days

as much

as I miss

the warmth of your smile

I only crave the flames

when you cover my pieces

in the frost of your cold shoulder

15/30 Winter

Years ago I hid behind my fear

let you float away from me.

Brown eyes and lips so full

they pleaded for acceptance

my fear refused to set my tongue free.

So I watched you go, made sure to cut all ties.

It was the only way to protect my heart from you.

The potential devastation was too much for me to step into.

I still mourn you in winter when the cold creeps in

you are the chill in the room.

The silver box, a gift given to me by an uncle

who convinced me that what ever dream I place inside

Would come true.

The same uncle who on Christmas Eve

Broadcasted Santa's demise

a crashed into the Gateway Arch,

The Saint Louis side.

When he spoke of dreams though,

his eyes held that wicked gleam

so I believed when he said,

"You can't go looking for it,"

he warned,

"it will find you when you least expect it.

Just speak the dream into the box and wait.

Dreams like to surprise you when they come true."

I believed him until I was ten.

The year I turned ten a boy I liked died.

He went fishing with his father and his father,'s father,

he was the only one not wearing a lifejacket

when the boat capsized.

I had never been to a funeral before,

never dreamed the young

could die so young.

His dreams would never come true

whether he placed them in my silver box

or the box that would be his home

underground.

I had a turtle named Snapper.

I know cleaver. His carapace,

a smooth green with yellow stripes.

It was the first pet I had that was considered my own.

I never let him mingle with the family pets, I

afraid the dog would eat him

while the cat could care less.

I'm pretty sure the cat believed us to be his pets.

I took him to show and tell once.

The bully boy in my class

poked him with a pencil.

I jumped on him.

Won my first fight

ruined his bully career at the same time.

My turtle died three days later.

My classmates made an altar for him.

The former bully brought me a snicker bar

every day for a month

a form of apology.

In my childhood neighborhood

there was a dog fenced at the corner house.

He barked and charged the fence

anytime anyone came near.

His growls would appear in dreams some nights.

One day, after serving detention,

walking home from school

sure that my troubles were just beginning

I barked back at the dog

then kicked the fence to prove my fierceness.

My eyes bulged wide as he stopped mid bark

as we both watched the fence slowly creak open.

I was running before I knew it.

He chased and barked.

Fumbling for my key I tripped up the stairs

leading to my safety.

Knocked the air out  of my lungs

lay sprawled on my front porch.

The growling dog stood over me

I waited for the bite,

he seemed to smile

licked my face

trotted away.

I cried for hours after.

I replayed my terror

still feared the dog

crossed the street whenever I had to pass

that house

sure that the next time he

would not hesitate to bite.

When she called me a mermaid

I felt powerful

like my breath would always be in my body

in or out of water.

I found a mermaid charm

sewed her into my hair to remind myself

I can swim anywhere.

It reminds me of her on the days that I twist my locs,

or when it passes my eye,

or on any Tuesday in winter.

A sure sign I'm nervous is if I twist my rings,

or talk too fast,

or walk, or sing,

or breathe, or eat apples,

or clean my car, or write a poem,

or, or, or.

Basically I'm always nervous

I believe it's because I care.

I still have the silver box.

And while I do not believe it makes dreams come true,

I place my heart inside in hopes that if it ever finds

brown eyes or full lips,

or the memories of a dead boy

maybe when I find the love

I long to give

my heart to in the open.

I will let my future lover find it.

Which means,

I will put it in her path.

We will open it together

I will no longer be hidden.

Maybe it will happen on a Tuesday

in winter.