"Found Amongst Blank Skies"

This poem was oriniginally made for "30 poems in 30 days". I decided not to do so, and gave it time to matriculate into a well of words instead.

What color is discrimination?
Shade of unemployment?
Homelessness under the census origins?
Better yet, immaturity where you sign the dotted line?
Missing the point with no direct finger to use
And the more self-righteousness we collect
The lesser self-respect used
We the people
Turn into miniature gods of Cyndi paupers
And silent killers of fat-cat tycoon slaves
A calendar with letters as days numbered
Like blood types created on seven accounts
Drinking from horns of religion
Eating the bread of Nero's gluttonous downfall
Stereotyping as if one tapped their digits against radio
Broadcasting a thought process
On deaf minds
Brainwaves be rough, crashing against shores of truth
Trying to hang ten, or break loose
So we surf for knowledge and find halfway colleges
Online like Greco/Roman formulas
For brother/sister/homo/animalhood
Sprinkled in their sparkling pimp chalice
An African staple and fables of fame
Stamped with tribalism, categorial shame
Shit, half you mafuckas don't even know your own name.
Yet...
We know the color of...











Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2010

"Sleepwalking"

"30 poems in 30 days" is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create in anyway way, shape, or form, with no strenuous, strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, and ending January 13th, 2010.

#14 of 30


Every dream that takes a stroll
Across my lucid landscape
I wonder what it holds in its hands
I wish that it would give me a
Birthday present to erase the past
From behind its back as it hides
Nice surprises I'd already know about
How to fix pain
Patching the torn fabric of a union
Only to
Torch that sumbitch again...
With the right liquids and flame
I don't want too much help
Dealing with my fated future
Band-Aid hopes and repeat apologies
Given due to martyrdom and fault grabs
Throwing my lighter up
Pushing my history of bad relations down
Into a barrel rusted and named
"Ifeanyi"
And let that shit burn inside
Until the ashes reside down in the
Bottom of my heart
And I'll smudge the outsides
With artistic thumbing
And make my desires
Of memories and reveries
Black and proud



Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2010

"Self Unshevled" (Two Parts)

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)

Here's #12 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, Tx

Part 1

My heart

My soul

My spirit

My love

My life

My thoughts

My skin

My desire

My drive

My will

My power

My weakness

My future endeavors

My past regressions

My pain

My anger

My despair

My grief

My struggle

My blaming

My faults

My fears

My apathy

My vengeance

My troubles

Part 2

Funny, it's not really not about me, is it?

I must realize things aren't always what they scream

The needle in the hay stack dream busts through my seams

And the theme isn't a motto, find the points, tips, unhollow

To correct and lead forward, the lesson and rules I must follow.

© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

"Embattled Tastes"

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)


Here's #8 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project


Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, Tx




If I had it like you
I'd take out all enemies
All who oppose me
That they would be nothing like me
Not anymore
I wouldn't have a scratch or scar on my image
No.
I would be impervious!
Then again
What would I be
Someone soulless gathering holes
Where I laid waste with bombastic
Rhetoric directed towards
Unarmed armies
Greeting me with
A pedestal
An forgiving stares

If I had it like you
I'd invite the world into my circle
Welcome them with open arms
Legs jet set in running
Rounding the campfire in games and joy
Releasing the inner child
Out towards me.
No.
I would be impenetrable!
Then again
What would I be
Too happy go lucky
Stuck on Utopia
Uptempo upbeat beatdowns
Of sunshine happiness
Unequaled to somber notes
Played on sax and trombone tones
Of those who jazz on hopeless
Nose coked smiley pokes dreams
And Failures
But


What is it we desire to be...
Or have

Then I have it like...

mixed emotions in a bowl.
Spoon please.

© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

"Walking The Path"

Originally, this was a #30in30 piece, but I suddenly realized that this is a draft of something bigger.



We step down
A step
Which many take in vain
Painfully skipping histories and
Pages with each footprint
left on unstable sand
Catch them slippin' on demand for
They skip
Skip Skip
Skip on and run
Ruuuuuuuuun past their own legacies
making mockery on top speed
Running on empty
Full of shit
Dismissing their African traditions
my home is not a plate
My continent isn't mispronounced or separated by vowels mistakenly
This here is a clue to all those
keyless
clueless
less of a man or woman to
Skip skip Skip skip skip
down memory lane and
Fall and bust their asses
Cause how can you lace the truth
when you're trippin' amongst the masses
My great grandmother smothered brothers like
me, with baseball cards and Sunday dinners
near Dallas Cowboys games
My grandfather built bridges for me
with constructions and hearty laughs
haircuts from Gipson and go-carts on the back way path
My cousin did me a solid and we collaborated
on rap rock, Heavy D, Beastie Boys, and Run DMC
So we run from we...
My mother let it be known
that even until i was homegrown or foreign soil spoiled
my name will be said in all languages among the most high
to respect the women and don't tread on them on the low
and love with all my heart, and believe in the one
that casts shadows upon those who tarried, trampled
dragged, marched, stepped and never
Skipped in the unstable soil
now paved over by granite tough ancestry
Let my legacy have a leg up on me
Mentally
We no longer
skip skip skip
when we stand upon the shoulders of thee.


© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

I BeLOnG (2nd Edition)

So I was going over a situational conversation, of sorts, with my lady the other day, and she brought up something she said she saw in a movie, (Not sure what the movie was again, but I will correct this if found) called "The Test", that fit this predicament. A male named Johnny came across a female that he felt was very compatible for him. His friend, Honey, was overjoyed at his newfound love, but after a few conspicuous calls from his love to him, she warned him about a possible dishonest result in that relationship. Johnny denied it, and played it off, but (insert movie reference) it was noticeable that when he let her in the passenger's side of the car, like a gentleman, she stayed put, not opening the door for him when he cycled to his driver's side. I know what you're thinking..."What's the big deal?" I thought the same, but really that wasn't the doom for his relationship. Honey broke down the scenarios and wack-ass excuses she gave to him, and he still couldn't figure it out as quick...sometimes you gotta let them feel the pain, right?

One thing about this disturbed me on two fronts:
1: Are women and men STILL grading each other on tests, as if many have failed an exam on love or some shit? And,
2: Do men and women care about what women really think when it comes to emotional bonding?

The femmes are on this like, "Duh, this is a no-brainer! The first 15 minutes will decide if..."
Yeah, you got it. You're like a Rorshach or Litmus design now, cat! They might even put you in a bar graph. What's the purpose of gauging EVERYTHING, ladies? I've heard it from all sides whenever men and women get together about what women like or decide. I wouldn't blame anyone if it wasn't so much silly goals and/or "traits" needed. Wallet, house, and shaft size are the most popular choices amongst the trife women I've noticed. The more serious women minds and education, subtle, but firm emotions, and laughter. Sex is kind of a buffer, considering so many males have truly screwed this dynamic up (no pun intended).

The fellas here are like, "What's the purpose? They're unlimited amounts of..." Yeah, you guessed it. He sees you like you're a resource, or fish. What's the purpose of trying to collect numbers and addresses just to release your seed every now and then? I'm all for sex, but really, it's just stupid how I see the misuse of words and physical stimulation with women and their worth for a fleshtastic experience.

There was a column that tested us back when I was at The University of Houston (Go Coogs!) that mainly asked if we all got jobs, cars, money, homes, maintenance of our bodies and education, just for the "ill nana"? (Not in those words, exactly.) Surprisingly, the males on campus overwhelmingly agreed and didn't give a fuck. So much for uniformity in common sense. Women are not commodities, nor are they trinkets and towel wipes for your seed. So why so much rush to get the golden good when you cannot seem to be satisfied emotionally, you ask? Bragging rights. Like A college football game of sex. Who gets to the red zone and dominates? Who scores frequently? Who's number one?

Just imagine our ancestors screaming to be let go, while their oppressors raped them in bunches. Breed you with some random African woman. Put that into your mind. Where's your luxury tax now, brotha? In fact, all of this may even spur the white man's question of "Who's your daddy?" in so many terrible ways...chattel ways, even. After all, sexual deviance came from their mistreatment of us. Their scores weren't tallied by "how many" but "how often".

Women, masculinity used to be sexy when men used it used properly. Don't tear him down because of his failures...especially in front of the others. Build and find out how to resolve these issues. Remember, Sally Sue is willing to put up with his dirty boxers if you don't correct his stance. Nurture the emotions, but don't neuter his dreams. men, do NOT mistake your black woman for a run-over, neither a master. She's there to deal with out petty shit when we complain. Think about what the hell she's experienced since the inception of women! Don't compromise so easily and continuously, but be able to compromise when needed.

Not many men are gonna sit back and be honest about their sexual and amorous experiences and how they've truly messed over the femmes. Women, on the other hand, will spill beans to express their anger. The new thought now days are those of the women who consider themselves "not feminine" about it (misogynist terms - "bitching about it" or being emotional). The mentality some have to say. "I don't care, I was trying to get mine," is so dead. It's become a thing of novelty to discuss being a "cougar" and such, seeing that the men of the past were heralded as champions of the fairer sex, if they were elderly, unappealing, downtrodden, plump or rotund, nerdy, and downright promiscuous. Ladies all know too well the terms given to the opposites by the males (fat, ugly, man-hating, whore, slut, freak, and fuckable). Nothing desirable. Either you have light-skin complexion, or your "assets" are huge. Other than that, silly-ass fellas are looking for that good 'head' game, or if you will at least let him and his 'patnas' run through you like a football team does a cheerleader banner. That there is a test of true emotional compatibility. Do you like her nose hair? You mind his bad jokes? You want to smell her breath in the morning? Does you need to sport that lace front? (Sasha Fierce jab) Give men some credit. The good ones, of course. They will watch your children and cook you food if you give them the time of day, which isn't spent in the sheets. Trust, I have done so, (plus, I can cook)!

Jozen Cummings, (also known to his peers as "Jock-itch Jo" or "Jozie, the Two-Dollar Ho" - @jozenc on Twitter) if you choose to divulge in his shit), actually was interviewed for his ways on misusing women and how easy it was for him to do so. he's not the only one, and before you say "It takes two to tango.", one may manipulate the dance floor, music, sometimes the libation in any situation. Furthermore, it's a form of rape when you do it to devalue and abuse the rights of the woman in any way. Mentally, AND physically (said here, first). Karrine Steffans catapulted the outing of men (particularly rappers) in her book, expressing how men were in the bed, and what their characteristics were sex-wise. As if being a video vixen isn't demoralizing enough, she content in her path to becoming well known throughout the U.S. as "Superhead", not discouraging younger women from these perils. Then again, the book speaks for itself on her character. This African now? We're on that?

As I bring this to a close, I started to go back in my past to analyze how (or if) I have done this to any women in my past. As far as I can remember, I think I am in the clear. Depending on the mutual feelings and the time it happened, I cannot say I've been that way. Or should I? What matters is this, tests are not relegated to paper and/or evaluations on a visual scale. The true tests come when you are laying beside your loved one in the morning and say, "Wipe the damn crust out ya eyes! Oh yeah...Good morning, sweetheart!"

Unlock the door to your partners, side of the relationship.
More to come.

Polished.

"Against Forfeited Feelings"

I'm gonna try something new here...inspired by two people, actually.

Regina Agu, and a blogtastic woman who's Twitter alias is '@slim_goodie'.

I am going to simply empty what comes to mind, within ten minutes or so, everyday. Oh yeah, I will not always follow the English?APA/MLA writing guidelines...so sue me. I'm looking to do this to jog the memory a bit. This might continue past the new years...who knows? I do wanna thank '@nubianwriter' for tweeting about poetry!


the face shows anguish that I cannot see
cannot hear unless it's in my dreams.
It's synonymous with dreary attitudes and
un-heartfelt kisses to the back of the neck
as if it's just a fuck

painting pictures of despair
pays enough for bus fare
a penny for your thoughts on canvas and
spray-tagged walls
graffiti on the bridge if not for spaghetti string dresses with
cling-on pasts and Teflon cares
they snag it from the air

Why sister gotta get no-good
Why sistas gotta bet on no-better?
Weather is whether you like to make it rain
fists and arguments
the affections of the soul and flesh
separated by church and statements of
Jesus working it out
testimony
after ya mans wore it out
test of faith
after ya moms bore you out of second class citizenship love
on the backburner of freedom expressed

by constant depression and distress

I confess,
even my female orisa got me twisted
Changing my mind after i see my queens give brothers brain
then explain the game to the shame he once called (denied)
his son...sometimes daughter...
sum of all things times double the trouble
equals mass hysteria
History repeats, wash, rinse, repeats, spin
doctors trying to work on your self-image without
really examinin' the in.
So pills now become a sin

you pray on Christian Brothers to bring you back again
Come again?
take time to dust off the seat, and not the seated
conceit is only leaving you defeated
i'll be damned if one hasn't sunk to new lows
and old heights of bullshit just to seek closure
or one more screw turn
shades of life isn't skin, or skins, or sags in skinnies
or bling and swag-brag
she can't date your car, nor brand name tag apparel

Man, brothers should be looking to the stars to earn
like astronomers
reaching for the sky without the blunt smoke stack train
off track, but you blow my high for the same damn thing?
what's your point? love/all
stop the racket trying to ball with no court in sight
net gain to maintain our light, right?
but...

ladies, stop trying to pull men's chain about
him pushin' a band on ya finger
marriage is in the mental.
put a ring around that
not a pole on it, for it
fuck it
nor forget it

this here...this shit right here???
is.
so how about that shot of happiness and laughter?
it's an open bar to be raised.
a toast to intoxicated bliss
cheers to no lingering jeers.
Hold on to hands.
on deck
of cards played...two of hearts


Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2009

I BeLOnG (Grand Edition)

Usually, I would write my feelings (no matter how horrible or high-spirited) in a poem form. Right now, I am just going to let this go.

Warning: The following briefing may unnerve the reader or readers of this blog. If so, oh the fuck well. This is an informative blog, not a "watch your feelings" blog.

***The nerve of some people...MOST people...to have a skewed view of my life, when NO ONE HERE has lived a perfect life. The strikes against me are starting to mount out. The naysayers and speculators are having at it on my happening's behalf. Let's see the next move. I am sick of it. I know my Iwapele isn't perfect, however, I am not a fucking imbecile. I'm not proud of my past, but I can damn sure place it above a lot of folks who have the flip-top nerve to judge me and my moves. I would love to write this down on paper, better yet, say it to everybody's face. some of the people I want to put back in their car seats are not available. The people are stacking up in my head count. I'm loving the force. I'm revelling in the process of elimination I am about to level upon these people. Fuck embracing change . I am the change. Embrace me, and I will shake your foundation. I'm going to blog the inner thoughts in the form of how I haven't done so during my poems. That is very unfortunate that I have to do so, seeing that I would be comfortable with just being me. Some people aren't. This blog then, is for you.

Let's first start of with social networking.

I'd like to say that I like the Facebook and Twitter networks that utilized information and the world events for both social and political landscapes. MySpace did so for an entertainment aspect. However, like most sites that sprout with the latest...thy shall fall by the wayside with fatal flaws. It appears to be fun for the novice, yet, destructive for the old hands. Overall, it's becoming seriously played out. Porn spam, ignorant-ass computer worms and viruses, bickering, overt pride without personal opinions, standout narcissism, and fantasies are rampant in the following sites I have encountered (past and present) : BlackPlanet, MySpace, MrBlunt, Facebook, Twitter, and "Yahoo!" Chat Rooms/Groups. Really, life should take a break from the surreal and focus on the real. I have had relationships from both landscapes take good and bad turns. I am now realizing I don't need a "revitalization" or "awakening" every damn three days, just to go back into a funk. If I'm in it, I should know the proper steps to get the fuck out of it. That's it. Why are we obsessed with help on and offline? What is it about this Age of Aquarius that people don't get about changing or staying steadfast in their own opinions, and not of someone else's? I am part of this group, for the simple fact that I was once usurped in the lore of online entertainment. I don't blame anyone but myself. Some of you should do that as well. BLAME yourself.

So what if people constantly have something to say about what you say. Fuck em, right? Well, let's analyze this. Many of the people online are in a trance, constantly relying on these networks to give them instant escapism form their own lives. In turn, they add their lives to it, looking for the sympathetic few to comfort and/or participate in getting their lives straight. Get over it. I, again, add my own body into that pool, making sure to put an asterisk beside this year. Look, if you haven't had the first experience of being a self-fuck, give it time. I don't constantly say silly shit like "NAGL" (not a good look), ""fail", "failure", "FML" (fuck my life), "GTFOH" (get the fuck outta here), and all the now-cool ass shit that is overrunning the once-creative ways of showing your reactions, like "lol" and "smh". If I do, more oft than not, I am being derisive, or may have used it for the first time. Either way, emotions are now totally computerized.
The following are some major ways to get you caught up:

*Make sure you stay to one alias, or one ID. It's always best to be yourself (from experience, putting up one of your favorite band's name as a screen ID will attract some wanted and unwanted attention, even if you also did it for a spin on your personality).

*Make a choice. Be serious or lighthearted most of the time, or both with a nice balance and handle on yourself. Don't fake either one.

*Avoid drama queens/kings, firestarters, and filthy net personalities.

*Speak mostly from your own perspective, but also be open to others.

*Stop fucking quoting and posting pics 90% of the time. Do it with discretion

*If you're gonna hound somebody about something, keep your goal safe. Make sure YOU have clean sheet. It's best you DON'T hound anyone, frankly.

*Leave your beliefs/feelings at the door if you don't want to be offended or emotionally torn to pieces easily. This is a different beast.

*Don't spy. Yes, it's JUST like stalking (unless it's your admirer or love interest being unfaithful and you have right reason). Even then, make sure you have good reason and facts.

* Be weary of aggressive texting and/or questionable activity that may affect you and whom you deal with. (See Craigslist Killer and the the girl on MySpace that committed suicide)

*Get the fuck off of the Internet!!! Unless your job requires that you use the Internet, no more than 14 hours a week online, seriously. Trust me, I have been a victim of the bullshit that I got sucked into for being on it for more than four hours in one day. Go outside and do something, like....live!

This reads like an instructional book, however, some of you bastards out there desperately need this. For those who have a grip on reality and the superinformation highway...congrats!

The irony? How many will ignore this to continue on to the fuckery that is "social networking ruination"? If you got this far, post your opinions. Or not.


I. Okoro II

In Due Time

This is my first official post as a blogger on this site. I have been posting blogs for a while, however. I'm just not too accustomed to doing so. My first blog isn't a sweet one, nor is it something I'd really like to discuss. Instead, it's a reflection of how I opt to talk online, rather than to people offline.

I have someone in mind, yet my mind isn't a sharing entity. It's likely that I'm going to suffer this September, seeing that I want to do so many things, yet, I am tied up. I'm kicking myself for not being able to mail a present off in time, being financially sunk as of late, and will be commemorating my friend's death five years ago from this date. I'm struggling to recover quick, if at all, from a relationship that dented my heart's door from the kick of another person she's invited in. This blog should be finished within five or so minutes, yet I am behind, due to worrying about correcting myself too damn much on a damn blog!

Anyway, I promise more in-depth writings as the time comes, if I am alive long enough to do so. Who knows where I'll be? Who knows my mind? I can think of one woman. She has captivated me in such short time, and I am failing to understand what she sees in me. I'm always smiling when we talk, and I'm sure to the bone that I'll be able to help her as she has helped me. Her special day is coming up, and I'm willing to sacrifice a lot to just visit her, if not make her feel wanted...especially by me. She told me about having a dream about someone that seemingly had the same characteristics that I shared AFTER she told me. It was a vortex that I was sucked into. But I will give more as the time progresses. Until then, I'm closed. I need to be focused on getting my self right. Or else...