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A Dream Deferred? (Poem for Bobby)

We all have dreams.

Somewhere in my mind, one day chitlin' circuit All-Stars will converse with William Shakespeare, while pondering Marvin Gaye's finest moments at Montreaux ... For the first time since 1828, Cornel West will get it tapered up, while discussing Harriet Tubman's moonwalks across the Mason-Dixon with the brothers at the barbershop ... Cornbread will cavort with caviar. And we all, God's beautiful brown people, will lay our troubles down by the riverside and be changed.

... One day. Lol.

Not today though. Not on the last day of black history month, 2012. Thinking about one of the most tumultuous of black history months that I can remember, we breathe a collective sigh of negro relief, happy we just got through it. Packing up our spades games, potato salad, and Kool-Aid, we dap each other up and head into March. On the way there, we'll think about the ones we lost -- Don Cornelius, Whitney Houston, Etta James. The songs. The soul. The good times. And as for the ones who "caint get right," despite our best intentions, we'll silently wish for the "hoo joo man" (copyright Ms. Phaedra Parks) to kum ba yah.

Such was the case when I heard about a one Mr. Bobby Brown's antics at the funeral of one who left us. Case study: You have a pass for three. You bring 99. You get asked to move some guests around. What do you do? A) Silently comply, as you know you've strained the rules? Or do you B) Get up and walk out, hot as fish grease, under the guise of "not making a scene." Only you then, deliver a press release, in which you do indeed make a scene.

A billion back youtube episodes of "Being Bobby Brown" will never fully clue me into the abyss of ratchet and coon musk that is the Kang of R&B. I can only hold on to the hope that he one day learns that the "Greatest Love of All" has nothing to do with half-price weed and free chicken wings. Or a black leather suit ensemble from K&G.

If the Grandma from Soul Food taught us anything, it's that we must celebrate people for who they are. Especially on the last day of a leap year black history month. (The only time when Afro-America gets an extra day of freedom celebration for nuthin.) So in spirit of the people, I give you -- "A Poem for Bobby." (Available on eBay for $1.99. Act quickly as this offer will expire.)

A Poem For Bobby

Hair nappy
Lips black
Looks like he's bout to have a
Heart a-taaaaack

Forty plus
Still acts the ape
Instead of asking "What's Eating Gilbert Graaaaape?"
Ask Bobby, Bobby
Bobby, Bobby
Bobby, Bobby

Bobby Browwwwn
He's in your town.

*Insert dramatic tom-tom drum roll*

Fades to black


At March 02, 2012 1:53 PM , Blogger Sevener said...

In unison, we all say "Ahhhhhhhhhhhman, Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhman, AhhhhhhAHHHHHHAAAAAMan" (in song)

At March 02, 2012 1:59 PM , Blogger Sevener said...

In unison let the church say "AHHHHHHHman, AHHHHHHman, AHHHHHAAAAHHHHHHHMAnnnnnnn" (In song of course)

At March 05, 2012 4:41 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

ROTFLMAO!!!! Hilariously well-written per the usual. I'm glad you reserved the leap/spare/extra/bonus day of Black History Month for Bobby.


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