My Mother once told me that her father was the type of man who hated not being the smartest man in the room/
And although I am not as obsessive as grandpa/
I will beat myself up for not being better between the ears/
Unfortunately, beating yourself up is not a good strategy for winning anything/
Even the smartest of the smart, know they don’t know everything/ 
The smartest also know that your mental approach is key when opening locked doors when success is on its opposite side/
If you beat yourself up/ think you won’t win/ not good enough to win/ or better yet/ feel lucky to even be in the position to play/
You will more than likely lose every time/
Just happy to be in the play – offs/ gets you swept in the 1stround/
Self-discipline is hard enough without the self-inflicted beat down/
What seems to work better than frustration is adaptation/
What seems to be a big part of the solution is evolution/
What seems to stimulate positive production is negative destruction/
So pardon me as I take inventory of my old house so that I may move a new/
My 1st stop/ is at the cigar box/ in my home office that gives birth to thought/
I open the box and so many creations are wrapped in lyricism and metaphor like cigar paper/

I see old perceptions of what love should be/ blow away like burning ash to make way for the fire love is/
Moving on to the spice rack/ Just below the cupboard of my passions/
I see inspiration just between the cayenne and the pepper/
Many dashes go over my brushed off shoulders and into a steaming pot of water/
Drops of passion overflow as oxygen gets released from the blood in my pumping heart/
The beauty is in its simplicity/

To some its transparency is perceived as weakness/
Must be why they point arrows at the dragon’s chest/

The arrows never kill him/ but they do make him mad on rare occasion/ 

Somehow I identify with his annoyance completely/
My wings spread from my back/ looking like Samuel Jack/ in the role of the Archangel Gabriel/
Moving forward through this motherfucking house I step/
The team greats me and shows me the city where my home resides/
I can almost hear the trumpets blow/
All the while poets hitting me with bars and game/
A peace sign and a raised glass goes to all language lovers/
Let’s step out of the kitchen and continue with the inventory/
My living room is filled/
Looks like I’ve got company/
Cats that are one man shows/ Improvisation aficionados/ spirits that spin free as the wind/

Minds that spin like open faced watches/
Onto the bedroom/ a tree is in the corner/
It protects me from myself at night/
Sap drips from the bark like the tears from lonely prayer/
Slowly down the wood it goes/
A bed is here telling my lips to keep a secret so I follow suit like the Queen and King of Hearts/
Onto the patio I see the moon I share with the universe/ it reminds me of my selfish ways/
I want her all to myself/
I want the universe to know that she belongs to me/
I don’t apologize for this verse for they see your light inside my eyes/
Let’s move forward to the dining room/
A meal is on the table/
A hot dish with spiritual vitamins/
I take small bites hoping the flavor will last longer/
Beyond the plane of the physical/
A taste my soul will remember/
A Napkin at the corners of my mouth before I start walking to the closet door/
My vengeance lives in here/
He’s 12 years old/ he’s shy and he’s the ugliest child you’ve ever seen/
Because I feed him disappointment/
Love finds a way to make him beautiful/
No apology for the verse but an apology to a darker me/
For not adding more sunlit readings, writing and prayer/
I am determined to change his diet to blessings and appreciation/
Inventory now tallied at the conclusion/
I move forward appreciative knowing that the blessings are endless/