I was going to marry the mother of my daughter.

I was working a regular nine to five.

I had just got promoted to supervisor and everything.

I came home early one day and there she was, smashing the homie.

The whole time I was fucking dude up, she was saying

“you’re always working!”,

“you’re never home!”

While I was choking old dude I kept thinking “that bitch just didn’t love me!”

I was hurting him, because it was hurting me.

When I was in county jail, she kept visiting me saying “I’m sorry”, this that and the third.

She even told me how much she really needed me.

When I got out I went over to her house and there she was,

pregnant by this other dude and he was kicking her ass and shit.

It almost made the GPS bracket worth wearing.

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Why I Am Gay

My mother and father used to argue and fight a lot, so one day he left us.

My mother got so caught up chasing after

no good,

no account negroes

that she completely forgot about me.

I grew up really wanting her love,

wanting her to love me.

I never got it.

I remember it started long before freeze-tag. I always like to  put on

my mothers shoes.

You remember the Road Runner Show, the one with Wile. E. Coyote–

well that’s all I was thinking about.

I wasn’t even thinking about “hide-n-go-get-it”,

when these so-called men started touching on me.

The whole time they were doing these things to me they were telling

me that it was love,

that it was right.

“If you don’t do it, I’m ah tell your mother.”

I learned and was told shit that I shouldn’t have known or done until

I was grown.

I tried to tell some family members, but they didn’t want to talk about it.

It was like I deserved it,

like I asked for it.

So I grew up afraid.

I hit puberty and my feelings of love for my mother turned sexual.

And all of a sudden

I was attracted to her,

her,

and her,

but anger is what made me perpetuate it.

Somewhere along the line a part of me liked the feelings the sex brought.

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It has to be a spirit that makes you beat your children for no good damn reason.

A spirit that makes you tell them to keep their legs closed,

while you keep yours open.

A sick ass spirit that makes you tell your children that they ain’t going to be nothing.

A spirit that makes you call them,

nigga,

a coon,

a monkey

and a ho.

A spirit that makes you yell be a man at your son,

when you ain’t being one.

It’s probably the same spirit that makes you mad when a white person

says the exact same things you’ve been saying.

Instead of giving a child love,

they get hugged by these spirits.

In these possessed houses all they talk about is the white woman this,

the white man that and there aren’t any white people in the house.

You never hear them saying the name of Martin Luther King Jr., Marshawn Evans,

Langston Hughes, Spike Lee, Phyllis Wheatley,

Bell Hooks, Percy Ellis Sutton,

Dr. Cornel West or  Muhammad Ali.

All they watch is black and racist movies until that is all they know.

How are you going to teach a child how to love,

when you don’t know how to.

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(After dinner Lance walks Princess to her car)

Lance– Sometimes my passion brings fire, but no warmth.  I have been thinking about, telling you that I feel like everything I do just isn’t enough and that maybe I’d be better off dead. And I know I get too deep for some, but I also know that what’s said needed to be said.

Princess– [Softly] Say it then.

Lance– You know how many nights I have spent alone.

How many days I have felt like giving up, getting gone.

Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my grip.

Tired of being the villain, and I got this chip… right here on my shoulder.

I laugh only to keep from crying, but you know what I don’t get.

Is how come you are the last piece of the puzzle, but I still don’t fit.

And I need a prescription cause I be on caps lock all day, ready to take off and just fly away…

Princess-Take me with you.

Lance– For now I live between death and success.

On the corner of fear and no regret.

I long for someone who revels in my strengths and accepts my faults.

I have found myself, but sometimes I still get lost

in your eyes, I drown.

You know my life story, my history, I love it when you around.

I feel so awkward when I hug you, because it seems like home to me.

I can feel your heart beat, like it is the same one within me.

My life, my soul and sometimes, sometimes, at night I want to cry,

but I can’t.

So even when the day is dark you are my only light.

MG Hardie

See more hidden poetry in It Ain’t Just the Size available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and everywhere books are sold.

When I was a younger I Believed in Fairy-Tales instead of making it happen for myself. I was spoiled. A college grad into my hair, my nails, my car, my man, but I wasn’t into myself. I was going through so many things I couldn’t even figure out who Princess really was. I started gaining weight. I was living and being, but that’s all. When I had to use my cleavage to get by I did. I had a man who spent and bought, but treated me like shit and I even allowed him to put his hands on me. Lance, that day you can to see me in the hospital; we had a real knock down drag out. I mean both of us were going at it and over some real stupid shit. What’s worse is that I was a few months pregnant…

I lost the baby.

I lost the man.

I lost myself.

MG Hardie

Find more hidden poetry inside It Ain’t Just the Size

The concert begins

on wood, dirt, blacktop, concrete

even packed snow.

Participants come in all shapes,

sizes and colors.

From all walks of life they come,

They come to show their affection,

Their love.

Do You have the love?

Center stage is 96′ by 50′

The performers are chosen

and take their places.

All eyes follow the orange sphere.

Running, spinning, leaping

Grunting, sweating, passing

Execution, chants, shouts

Breakaway! Explosive.

Timeout…

Do you have the Love?

Offense is Learned,

Defense is pure hard work.

Can you feel the ebb?

The flow?

The Momentum of game one

with 81 more to go.

Old, New, Schooled

Post up, cross over

“Nickname” take over

Pull up jumper, Power, Finesse.

The score is tied with 16

seconds left,

can’t rest.

Slam, Bank

Luck, Skill

Inside, Outside

Block, Steal

Cheers rain down from the sky

Cameras flash from nowhere,

Posterize.

Do You have the Love?

Penetrate, fake, jab step

hang time, foul

inbound, pass, dish

rebound, brick, barely miss.

Half court trap,

full court press?

Drive, Triangle, Isolation

Wrong guess.

Step back Three

silence

…swish.

Beautiful.

I Love This Game.

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I am Daddy, overworked and under appreciated.
The one who let's you sleep late on Saturday and got your
 hair braided.
I am the homework harasser, face washer, with a little twist of bath.
I am the one you told new jokes too, just to see if I would laugh.
I am the one who helped you with History and introduced you to
  relatives you never knew.
And I am the one who spanked you when you filled your aunties
  eye with glue.
I am Daddy, I leave ideas out there for you, to linger.
I am the one who takes care of you when you are sick
  and bandage fingers.
I am the one with little to no income,
 but of every crumb I have, you've had some.
I am the one who lost arguments just to save face.
I am the one who told you not to play so much
  and how to say Grace.
I am the one always pushing, challenging you to do your best.
I taught you how to read, ride a bike, and how to play chess.
I am Daddy, killer of spiders and builder of tents.
I am the one who taught you the difference between
  two nickels and ten cents.
I am the one who showed you how to go to bed without
  any light.
Without me your shoes would slip off because they wouldn't
  be tied tight.
I am Daddy discipliner extraordinaire, the one you told about your
  fears and dreams.
The who who told you that you're not as slick as you think
  and that things aren't as bad as they seem.
I am Daddy... And I love you.