Love 'em, yeah.

yeah, man,

them

They style, they ways-

My ways, tomorrow.



When they smile,

peeling gaping open,

bearing teeth like tree roots

the sunshine in our lives

lightens exponentially,

immediately,

the aquamarine hightened.



We ole' black men,

when dey laugh,

earthquaking uncontrollably,

a deep growl rumbling from within

they belly, as we laughin

our souls release

into the heavens.



Ole' Black Men,

Salt n' peppa heads,

crowning with wisdom

their syllables are formed

with intellectual intentions

of life time experientials
crystallized into antedotes

or mono-syllabic admonitions

like, 'i wouldn't do that' or

'if you find an ass,

den ride it, boy'-

these old men speak volumes

with little but.


When they walk, griots stride,

Rhythmic long n' strong-

The same in Morroco as in London,

From Trinidad to Japan,

Louisianna to Michigan;

Them accents are all tinted,

with that cool lilt, roll of their reserved tounge(s).



Old black men like

the perfect sheen on a black panther.

their eyes blood shot red, yellowin',

them moods fierce.

Old black men like

black leather patent shoes, sandels or closed toe;

pleaded pants: linen in hot~ wool trousers in the snow;

no fancy black leather belt;

gold watch, gold bracelet maybe;

stylin' silk fancy shirts

or, conversative, business oxford, button collar,

when they choose to inhabit this realm.


Old black men are of the

Pure opaque blackness,

strong black liquor, potent.

They souls, they heart

Of these old black men.


My Lord,

my fathers,

they fight

forever

by dictates of the spirits

in the stratosphere,

commanded by

He in the most high -

They bones are organic

of the spirit world ,

derived of the infinight.

Death releases

They spirits to flight.


Black men love

until they brittle

and break

Off

as Dust in the universe's stratsosphere-

Incarnations of our old black men

Are the spirit's sun spots;

Oil reservoirs,

spinning the globe on its axis,

reciprocating the sun,

powering Light.