Not Afrocentric Enough
Years ago...
They acted as if,
I was an embarrassment to them.
Not Afrocentric enough.
Even though I had identity,
Branded on my 'strut-and-stuff'!
My name, Lawrence Suhuba
Yuroban selected.
Doubling the meaning of my given name.
Suhuba (Lawrence) now Lawrence S.
Proud of my heritage and having no shame!
None to confess.
Today I 'strut' with my stuff all over the internet.
Doing what I've done most of my life.
And that's write.
And I might have been an embarrassment to them then...
But 'them' not feeling comfortable to be who they are now,
Should embarrass them more!
Since having no identity today,
Makes little sense since everything folks have lived for...
To impress with materialism has diminished in value.
And everything they are has been invested in it!
My head is held high...
Most times.
If I am not in deep thought!
And...
I might not have a dime in my pocket.
Most times,
My mind tells me I'm worth millions!
And I look to the ground,
Just to make sure I'm not dropping any of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Only Then to Find Myself
When I made a decision
To use the name I was blessed with
Adding a second name that meant exactly
What my first name means in a different dialect...
Folks got upset.
Because I wanted to perfect my identity!
Lawrence S. I was going to be!
People could not pronounce 'Suhuba'.
Thinking it was something like scuba diving.
And when I told them the name was Yoruban.
From true Egyptian/Yoruba tradition...
You would have thought those of colonial understandings,
Had thought I lost my ancestral mind!
I've known who I've been all this time!
I am defined and proud,
To announce my heritage out loud.
Originality?
Being free of subservience,
I imagine that is what is seen in me.
I have an integrity with dignity.
And could care less who is lost in distress.
I was there...
Before I awakened,
To remove someone else's brand!
Only then to find myself...
Disrespected by my own kind,
Whose minds had been completely brainwashed!
And free to think of themselves as insignificant.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swagger
With a walk of pride,
And heads held high.
Displaying a confidence seen and undenied.
Some come to think of this still as arrogance.
Anyone appearing dignified and proud,
With an identity that speaks out loud...
And arrogance is applied to this stride that clouds,
Today's definition
Swagger is what that is called today.
In my day...
In times that seem so far away.
To act as if one was a foolish clown...
Was one who was down to Earth.
And had been taught this was acceptable,
With a teaching of this from one's birth.
Being a fool was preferred behavior.
In cycles where dysfunctions were revered.
Many times I was told I wasn't a bag of chips.
But easily spotted as a dim-witted dip!
To display one's intelligence...
Was for some an embarrassment.
Today...
Those 'dips' done by the ones with wit,
Appear to have a lot of emulated swagger.
With a hip-hop that raps and rocks!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When I Discovered My Given Name
When I discovered my given name 'is' Lawrence...
(Named after my father.
Who on 'his' birth certificate says Lawrence 'A'.
And I'm suppose to be a junior with no 'A' attached.
Go figure!)
...and not 'Larry' as I am still called by family members,
And very close friends.
People who 'knew' me became upset,
When I began calling myself 'Lawrence'.
Saying I thought I was better than the others.
And that I was not 'real' OR down-to-Earth!
'Does this sound a bit crazed?
I wanted to call myself by my 'real' name...
And folks who didn't have my name,
Became upset!
Pure insanity...
Isn't it? '
There's more...
But my parents did not name me Larry.
They named me Lawrence.
And my father everyone called Lawrence...
Decided he was going to be called 'Larry'.
I'm not going to say he was a jealous man.
That's a different story!
And I decided to become as REAL as possible!
Even adopting an African name, Suhuba...
Of the Yoruban language.
Meaning 'laurel' or of the Sun.
And 'that' made some folks furious.
Family members became outraged...
Because I sought 'identity'.
And I was accused of wanting to be 'white'.
These are the same folks who call for unity of all kinds!
But they don't know 'who' they are to unify.
And 'why' or for what!
That's how ignorant some environments,
And the people can be!
Divided into segments of conditioned realities.
God bless 'em!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Put a Sock In It
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Many getting sick of the pickiness started.
And when it gets sticky they can not stop.
Instigating agitation with annoyance.
Dropping all they've got to tie a mind in knots.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Can't you see them strike poses and begin to 'cheese'.
Then plop on their knees,
To make their pleas.
These same folks cry about bad luck.
With claims their butts are stuck in ruts.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Folks have had enough,
And fed up!
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Folks have had enough,
And fed up!
Folks have had enough.
Folks have had enough.
Folks have had enough.
And fed up!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Putter In the Muck
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do,
And put it away!
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do...
And put it away!
Don't economize,
Your happiness.
One bit.
Give that up!
Don't apologize,
For an 'is' that 'is'
Don't quit.
OR give that up!
Don't get paralyzed,
When the lies fly.
And you realize
That the lies are all about you!
Just don't,
Putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Just don't,
Putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do...
And put it away!
Just don't,
Putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do...
And put it away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Heart of Head
Embarrassment about your love A love you have been warned of. A love you have been denied From birth of this love they lied. This love make you happy You wear it's after glow In this love your life flow. Embarrassment keep you from Reaching your end. Not sharing the who you are within, Let go of the myth, Go for the ring...SING! Put the embarrassment on the Back burner, Be your own life learner. Your soulmate no one knows A soulmate just don't come and go, Most times soulmates are like you But most times you never have a clue. A soulmate of your kind can make you blue? That embarrass soulmate is the deal, The one you deny is the real. Your heart and head have Minds of their own. When you are flying and your Feet are still on the ground, That is your heart, let it pound. When you are in flight... And scared, that gotta be your head. The average person love With his or her head, Wondering way down the road That love is dead. But those who love with both Feet on the ground, They become the host of happiness bound. Love is like sex for the first time You just want to do it... There is no crime. Listen to your heart, be wise For your head have many roads unrevealed.
your friend kwane
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Call That Vanity
I remember once being told I was nothing but fluff.
With a life that would lead to nothing,
Because I was not made of the right stuff.
And purposely I see these folks.
And keep my mouth close shut.
Since most of them are limping with canes,
If not laying flat on their butts!
And I am happy and glad my stuff is fluff.
With a still muscled butt that allows my strut!
And please by all means,
Call that vanity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When and Where Did They Leave Behind Their Minds
I have been blessed to be in the presence...
Of those obsessed with the purchasing of things.
Themselves and what they possess.
And have them profess to me,
What 'I' could be and 'things' I could have...
IF I just put my mind to it!
So glad I endured such ignorance.
Little did they know,
I thought people like that were ridiculous.
And in time they would come to think of themselves,
That very same way.
It happens.
It pays to be observant.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is a sense of my own self worth.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is identity and self respect.
What I have today and have had most of my life,
Is my faith and gratefulness...
To know from where my blessings flow!
And the source of my insight.
And those folks...
Wouldn't leave from their doorsteps,
Without making sure their pretensions were intact.
But then again...
Times have changed!
And maybe some of them are scurrying around,
Trying to discover...
When and where did they leave behind their minds.
And what had been their purpose?
What purpose do they serve?
And how is that purpose felt?
Where is that purpose at?
Especially those clinging onto materialistic notions!
Believing themselves to be...
'Blessed and highly favored',
To have acquired positions of status.
With bling and other things to flaunt,
An eroding way of life that has them entrapped.
And I wonder...
Is 'this' a purpose?
Or is this,
A sad act!
God...
I thank You,
For showing me how to lead.
And not follow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Proud Of It I Have Been
It was never discouraging to me,
When at a time I had been accused...
Of not having an identity.
And I was breaking down barriers,
Blocked and barricaded...
By those who 'still' do not understand,
The purpose and extent of my creativity.
I do not exist to represent a cause or a group.
To spin circles around insecurities some pursue.
I am here to challenge those who make excuses,
For themselves to use.
And...
To state my talents are not ethnic based.
With limitations others may be accustomed to,
That allows them to continue their own self hate.
Seeking to be accepted and approved...
Has never been the shoes I walked comfortably in.
I remember being told I was not 'black'.
Because I dared to cross assorted boundaries...
At a time judgemental 'blacks' were uncomfortable to do that.
And sat unadventured around and behind walls,
Closing in upon their backs.
I remember being told I had 'sold out'!
By the very same folks...
Who today prance and dance about,
In places they once pointed me out as not being 'Afrocentric'.
And they wonder why more people like them,
Are not going to those places with a paying of their visits.
Only to arrive to announce their indifference.
Not to learn.
Not to accept.
But to reject,
The experience.
It was never discouraging to me,
When at a time I had been accused...
Of not having an identity.
Because I've always knew who it 'is' I am.
And for sixty-four years I've never tried to hide that fact.
Too proud of it I have been.
And comfortable in my skin.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If I Offend, So Be It
If I offend...
So be it!
I am not here,
To be the 'next' James Baldwin.
Or follow in the footsteps,
Of Langston Hughes.
The shoes I wear are quite comfortable.
And the path I walk upon,
Has not already been paved.
That is the task that has be laid before me.
To do that myself!
If I offend...
So be it!
I am not living my life intending to be anyone else,
Than who I am.
I am the first Lawrence S. Pertillar.
And make no mistake about it...
I will be acknowledged,
For the life I've lived.
If I offend...
So be it!
I just know who it is I am.
And I am not who I am because I seek to get paid for it!
Like most folks lost and deluded,
By the meaning of 'identity'.
I've been blessed and I am grateful...
To have a dignity as well.
And 'if' I offend...
So be it!
There's so many others,
Who have minds associated with making a quick buck.
And people like that...
Are indoctrinated with corrupted agendas!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tear It Up
(john burnette, dorsey burnette & paul burlison)
Come on, little baby, lets tear that dance floor up
Come on, little baby, lets tear that dance floor up.
Come on, little mama, let me see you strut your stuff.
Im a leavin, little baby, gonna be gone a long, long time.
Im a leavin, little baby, gonna be gone a long, long time.
Well come on honey and show me a real good time.
Tear it up! tear it up!
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little baby let me see you strut your stuff.
[instrumental verse]
Tear it up! tear it up!
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little baby let me see you strut your stuff.
Well you step back baby, and you move my way,
Step around again and let me hear you say
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little baby, let me see you strut your stuff.
Tear it up! tear it up!
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little mama let me see you strut your stuff.
Tear it up! tear it up!
Tear it up! tear it up!
Come on little mama let me see you strut your stuff.
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Want to Keep Your Peace Secured
I've been in one spot for twenty one years.
Mended from several heartbreaks.
And dried my own tears.
I know I've lost my mind...
At least a few times or more.
And the few people I knew had little to say.
Or bothered to knock on my opened door.
And today! TODAY...I get visitors.
Who claim to be my friends.
But I also know this much too well...
Folks only come around,
When they are near a dead end...
With no money to spend!
So I sat listening to 'them' ask...
'How have you been? '
And when I said I was doing great...
I was given from them big fake grins!
And I offered to them my hand and said...
'I'm so glad ya'll came by!
I need a loaf of bread.'
They quickly got up and left!
And that is how I have managed,
To keep my peace of mind.
Especially in a place...
Like this hometown of mine!
I can't wait for that fresh gossip,
To go around a few times!
And...
If you,
Any of you
Want to keep your peace secured...
Tell folks you ain't got a dime!
That will do it!
Unless...
You just happen to be cooking,
Collard greens with fried chicken wings.
Potato salad and yams,
WITH ice tea?
Unexpectedly?
You 'then' have folks,
You can't get rid of fast enough!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strutting All Your Stuff On Main Street
On that avenue where your heartbreak is chased,
I follow you with wishes,
All your bitter kept feelings from you...
Fades away.
And I would see you,
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
I'd like to see you,
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
And with your head down like its been really tough,
Looking as if you're about to give life up...
But I wish,
You would 'dis' this to strut on Main Street.
Oh yes I miss you...
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
Just know I've done a boo-hoo too!
And that didn't do a thing to prove,
Anybody noticing would rescue...
Me from my grief to free it.
A public boo-hooing is not cool.
Since nobody will undo,
Your heartbreak that is felt.
Nobody else but..
Yourself to get over.
On that avenue where your heartbreak is chased,
I follow you with wishes to replace,
All those bitter feelings that you face...
To fade them away from your mind to stay,
And I'd see you...
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
Oh yes I miss you,
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
And I really want to see you,
Just strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
I'd like to see you,
Just strutting all your stuff.
With an attitude,
That you can't flaunt enough.
And doing that with a strutting that you do,
On Main Street.
I'd like to see you...
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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God Is The Entity
I don't live my life on a discounted escapade.
Every bill delivered to my address...
Has just my name on it.
And they all get paid.
Because I've arrived at an age,
It is expected I get assistance.
And whatever I get I like to think I'm deserving.
Since I've never lived with a selfishness.
And most of my life I've been in service to others.
And to others I have served.
Very few times I've accepted hand outs given to me.
Especially knowing how easy it is for others to speak falsities.
About what they do in quantity...
And neither quantity nor quality from them do I receive.
God is The 'Entity' that has blessed my life tremendously.
Of this I have witnessed with no pretensions to exist.
And those who have come to go out of my life...
From me they knew as one to give,
And any taking was done was in respected appreciation.
I don't live my life on a discounted escapade.
Every bill delivered to my address...
Has just my name on it.
And they all get paid.
And if anyone has ever thought,
My life has been one of a free ride?
Not one of them has a clue,
As to why I strut with pride with my head held high.
It is what I have inside of me that God has allowed.
And about this I am not confused.
In fact...
I may be accused of being 'too' proud!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Being Freed From Feeling Offended
The reason why those elderly,
Are tossed aside when they become of age...
It is a wisdom and common sense,
Those incompetent...
Believe they can fake,
Without experiencing life or learning from mistakes.
Those who have aged and confess this when addressed,
Are willing to admit and quickly say...
Without the feeling of embarrassment,
To affect any impressions they may have made...
On others who are equally disconnected from reality.
With a seeking of being freed from feeling offended.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Must Confess
Today I confess to you
one of my biggest fears
That you don’t feel the same as I do.
Today I confess to you
one of my greatest joys
For this feeling gives me great happiness.
Today I confess to you
my grandest accomplishment
To be able to have this feeling.
Today I must confess to you
That seeing you
Makes me feel complete.
Today I must confess to you
That your touch
Heals all my pain.
Today I must confess to you
what I feel is painful
And it makes it more grand.
Today I must confess to you
That no one shares
What my heart feels for you.
Today I must confess to you
My deepest feeling,
I love you!
poem by Maria Segura
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In His Eyes! And Ours
Times then were lived,
Within our means.
We valued being clean.
Respected as expected.
This is what everyone did without neglect.
And embraced hygiene!
This was a fact of life known and seen!
Sold on concepts of a desire to learn.
Wanting to comprehend lessons taught...
That broadened our lives with a competitiveness.
With a fear of limits ignorance welcomed.
And we then wished no part of this.
We sought to grow.
And this assisted with an identity dignity presented.
Times then were lived within our means.
To deceive...
Was then thought to be despicable.
To cheat and lie about it,
Did not excite or sit well...
With those who suffered through the consequences,
Of their ways that dismayed.
Today...
People talk the 'walk' but do not walk the talk.
People say they have good intentions.
But leave no evidence of it seen.
Today...
People talk about their standards and values.
As if this is held in an exclusiveness.
And a membership is required for this to be addressed.
Today...
People are obsessed with their possessions.
Their good credit scores and loans they can obtain.
Because they have maintained status given,
Although they keep blemishes hidden...
That may reveal their tainted names.
And they cheat.
Lie.
And deceive!
With lifestyles lived well above their means.
And yet,
When suspected...
Nothing about them is respected.
Nor do the judgements they pass on others...
Keep tax collectors from locking them out,
From foreclosed homes they bragged about.
OR...
Do they 'today' have the means to feed, protect
Or shelter themselves,
In peace.
Times we lived then,
Were lived within our means.
And we were taught to be grateful.
To feel we were blessed.
And we should express this to God.
On a daily basis kept routined!
Like promises we made to ensure we had good hygiene.
And then God...
And only God,
Will make sure our lives lived were lived right!
In His eyes!
And ours.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Others May Mistake A Duck
I remember being defined,
By...
How I spoke with a wish to be understood.
Pronunciating words with a clarity.
And spoken in the way they were spelled,
As they were meant to be.
I was not the one to accept mediocrity.
I remember being judge by the way I looked.
Where I lived and the interest in others I took.
And what I had to present and didn't.
I was 'out-of-it' to many.
And this was said to me as if to restrict.
I remember putting a stamp on my identity.
And the acceptance of this,
Had been rejected by others who could not then see.
In fact...others would approach me,
As if I had commited treason.
Or had an incurable disease.
People can be cruel when making their assessments.
As if those selected needed to be taught a few lessons.
Today with integrity and my identity intact,
I do not declare my 'Blackness'.
I've always been proud of that.
What is obvious to me needs no announcing of fact.
Or do I oppose those with a host of opinions,
To appear more bold to the ones opposing my goals.
Finished or not they will never be diminished.
I have learned not to pay naysayers any attention.
Or give them time to stretch the limits of their minds.
If others may mistake a duck in wasted debates,
To argue what they see is a parakeet...
Or something else to be caged.
They will have those same issues forever on display.
Regardless how outdated their manifestations,
With them stay.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is About Identity and Principle
What difference does it make,
Whose heart you take and break?
What difference will you fake next...
If you say you've made mistakes,
When those mistakes leave heartbreak...
Over again,
In a thoughtless process unconsciously taken!
And this is not about money,
Or being Afrocentric.
This is about identity and principle.
One's integrity and dignity.
This is about those areas of life,
That have never dawned on you.
Because you are just too caught up in 'things'.
And no one can pay for magic to happen...
If one's mind is already established in ego!
To adorn and impress,
A valued emptiness.
And...
Let me leave you with this,
When did you determine I was not Afrocentric?
Was it before or after you recognized I was not subservient?
Or after you obtained the benefit of my efforts...
Erased from beneath your footsteps.
And I had been freed with blood I left...
From displaying a humblizing ignorance.
You find to market is best.
Or was 'that' something you had been told?
By those sold on reaching for already polished gold.
You do not remember the days,
The path you did not pave...
Had not been laid with choices,
Do you?
But I forget...
You represent that generation absent of deeds.
Delusioned and free of struggle.
You just want to shine...
Regardless of who holds your spotlight.
Or who had paid to have that light shine upon you.
I knew those unafraid to be challenged by those paths unpaved.
And perhaps my comfort with that...
Leaves you opinionated that I am not aware,
I am black?
I just don't carry the affects of that on my back!
And why should I...
When every stride I glide is still followed!
And this is not about money,
Or being Afrocentric.
This is about identity and principle.
One's integrity and dignity.
And none of that do you represent...
As a means for your survival!
I can where...
And with whom I sit and eat.
That is something yet I can not do.
As I pretend to be unaware...
Of the closeness of my oppressor's teeth.
And you...
Could care less of who makes the mess.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The sad times
The sad times come to stay
There never far away
Seconds and minutes away
Hours and days away
Weeks and months away
Years and tears away
It is just a sad time away
From being sad all day
It comes as sad as it could
Anytime, anywhere, anyhow
Giving me a new identity
It is sad in all colours
Sad times to me reminds
Of happy times filled by smiles
Of love in the afterlife
Of happiness in sadness
Today I think Ill be sad
Tomorrow Is sure to be just as bad
I wonder when I will be again glad
Its not worth worrying or Im sure to go
...mad...
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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