Ready, Set Race

How many times

can you

ride a horse

without breaking it's back?

Racing and racing

with out even asking,

because humans

can't speak horse.

We never ask;

how it feels

to have the saddle strapped on,

we never ask;

how it feels

to have that bosal around the nose,

we never ask;

how it feels

when those blinders are placed

and we mount up

and ride—

taking for granted

weight of us upon the horse,

blinders, so they only see,

what we want them to.

We expect him

to run,

and not only run,

run well;

and not only well,

but to win the race.

Blinders positioned, jockey

on back, whip

in hand; run,

run, (whip) faster,

faster, (whip) harder,

harder, (whip) win,

win, (whip).

But we never ask

how does it feel,

when we mount

their back,

with the expectation

of running.


©2008 Clarence Barbee

For those of you who celebrate and support this holiday....HAPPY MUTHAFUCKIN' 4/20!!! Due to my lack of job right now, I can't really celebrate the occasion I would like, but as seen on myspace earlier, I believe the day will not go unnoticed.

To celebrate the celebration, I spent the day going over some really old poetry, and came across a piece entitled "Still Laughing". It was my portion of a collaborative effort done on the Verb cd, when I was with A Group Called Karma. They were good days, when I was much more youthful, and free than I am like right right now. They were days when I was learning poetry, meeting poets, and really enjoying the artform. If you would like to hear the piece, I may just put it up on my music page for the next few days, just so you can get a taste....mmmmm, a taste--not going there, not going there....:)

So life is good, I've been writing and keeping things under-wraps somewhat. I'll get ready to cross that bridge, when it's time to build it. Until then, connect with one another, love one another, listen to each other, and agree to disagree if you must, but enjoy her, on her day, and take note of the effects and affects that she has on not only our relationships with each other, but the way these relationships relate to the rest of the world.

Free Tibet!

Give Thanks, and Peace

4/20 Lover,

nabraska

Thursday, April 17, 2008
Perceive the Nature (not meant for all, but for one)

Says this page
reads like an
open book;
is it
fact,
or
fiction?
Who is to say
for no one is
really,
that close—
unless they're
impatient.
Don't fall victim
to visions
monikers portray—
some things are
just an act.
Please accept apologies
for the unintended
action;
sometimes scribes
lose sight to
the strength of words
and
silence.
The book may be open
yet not every
chapter is known,
hate writing
code for one,
so
I.L.U.
with apologies to
the one who
loves
Martha Stewart.....

april 16 2008
Pissed W/A List but Still Cool

You have to
love pencils.
Unable to write
in stone;
mistake made,
just erase—
easy.
When dull,
a straight edge razor
creates a point—
it's sharp.
Point powerful,
tip tremendous,
angles arranged
perfectly.
Have to love pencils.

Wood painted
yellow,
color of the sun.
Takes thought
to paper
with shining brillance;
baked to coal black—
led trapped inside.
Well, it used to be,
now it's graphite;
not as dangerous.
Yet still able
to cut to the core
if poked.
Love of pencils
is a must.

One of the
first tools
girls and boys use
in school.
Sparkling graphics
placed on the outside
so children'll think
they're cool.
Great marketing technique.
So each week
Bobby and Bunny
run to the sharpener
to whittle it down;
love this instrument
more than circus clowns.
Too bad some writers
don't write long-hand.
Never knowing the joy
of a pencil...

Home, it's that feeling, more than just some physical space, or place...I'm back...good googly moogly, I'm really fuckin' back. Part of me is really torn up about this, but part of me is really glad is well...I'll stick with the happy for now.

Having real friends is good, and having real good friends is really really good, I'm blessed to have both—not only here, but other places as well. I just spent some time with a real good friend, I consider him my brotha. And since I haven't seen or spoke with him in a while, it was magic to catch up. I'm looking forward to doing the same with other frelatives as well.

I'm in a good place, it's rocky, but I'm on top of the rock without a point up my booty right now so it's good. I miss people. Life moves, it hurts, and sometimes you lose people that you care for. Damn that goes with the part of me that's torn up.

poetry is on hold right now. but if you really search it out, i'll bet u can find a spot where some new stuff is posted.

I am more than just the poet so many know, I am more than just a man that some women love, I am more than a revolutionary, I am more than a uncle, I am more than a employee, I am more than a son, I am more—there's your poetry—ha!

But it's good to be home.

I went to the opera Sunday. I saw Aida. And yes, I enjoyed it. I think I might be getting all cultured and shit...maybe not. But I did enjoy the opera, and for those of you who might have some deep seeded aversion to the opera, give it a chance, try new things, if it ain't life threatening, I say try it. Life threating meaning crack, crank, meth, attempting to jump over a car that's going 50+ MPH, and you know you have no hops...that's that life threatening shit.

I miss people. I've made mistakes. Life is still working on making good people better, better people well, and sick people healed.

I understand if you don't get this blog, it's not for some, but tailor made for all.

Give Thanks people. Life may be crumbling, but trust, for others, ash is all there is, so enjoy the crumbs you have.

I am working on a book—still, yes. Music?? Sort of. If you're really interested, email me nabraskapoet@hotmail.com I'll be anxiously awaiting by the computer...yea right, it's all good though.

For the children: Kids, don't watch porn, don't do drugs, but a experiment with mary might not be a bad thing when you turn 18 and get out of mom's house.

Speaking of mom's...BIG UPS TO SINGLE MOM'S....for-real, I feel your pain. (If you'd like to know more about this sentence, please email me, I think u got the address.)

Shit, it's the end of the page. Don't hate me because you don't understand this, just open your mind, and

Give Thanks.
nabraska