Just A Man

I’m just a man,
nothing more,
nothing less;

I’m not a hero,
not a role model,
not your latest celebrity;

I’m not your cuckold,
your whipping boy,
or the butt of your stupid jokes;

I am a man,
nothing more,
nothing less.

I don’t dance
and
I don’t sing,
but I will write you a poem,
but only if you want the truth;

I am not perfect,
so stop expecting me to be;
I fuck up,
just like everybody else,
some days,
even more so.

But I am here,
until you tell me
to go away,
and then,
I’m like the wind.

I’m just trying
to put one foot,
in front of the other;
just trying
to keep
my head above water;
just trying
to
make it to the finish line.

I’m just a man,
nothing more,
nothing less;

There is no other way
to say it,
and there’s no other way
to acknowledge it,
so there you go…
nothing more,
nothing less.

© 2012 Joseph Powell

Remember When We Used To Sit...

I'm watching water flow by
in the marina just beyond,
while listening to Marley,
singing about sitting
in Trenchtown yards;
am thinking nostalgia
is a strange
and beautiful thing,
as I'm reminded
of sitting in
south side playgrounds
near housing projects
that no longer exist;
sitting, often playing,
sometimes dreaming...
of what?
I wish I could remember--
maybe it was enough
that I was dreaming;
it meant that
I was moving forward,
it meant that
I wanted
to be somebody,
that
I was somebody
as Jesse said,
as the Bible
of the storefront church
I went to, said;
as my mama is
still saying,
in her own unique way.

Yes, Bob,
I too remember when
I used to sit
in government yards,
but not quite like
the ones you remembered,
but I do remember when;
pretty sure,
I'm not the man
I probably dreamed
of becoming,
but I still became
a man,
and I still became
somebody,
who still
remembers when.

© 2012 Joseph Powell