It’s the tie that binds
The moth to the flame
The gold plated chains
That would noose you
To the height you seek to climb

It’s the pretty things that would kill you
The familiar faces that would wake you
Up in the middle of the night
Soaking wet in your own sweat
If it turns out to be blood
It’s the lover standing over you
A knife in one hand
A dirty underwear in the other

It’s the pretty things that would kill you
the shinning things you buy
with the flesh you wear
not knowing tattoos will never skin you
The way the womb did (more…)

It was a weird Sunday evening. After hanging out with some friends, I decided to run to the mall to return some shirts I bought the week before. From uptown, I got on 35W south bound. Few miles later I debated whether I should take highway 62 East or stay on 35W to 494 East. I decided to stay on 35W.

Well, as soon as I passed the exit for 62, I knew I’d miscalculated. 35W to 494 is longer than 62 to 77 route, with the likelihood of getting stuck in traffic much higher. Bad move IBé, I scolded myself. I hate miscalculating.

As I pulled into the mall on Lindau Lane, winding my way to the parking ramp, I saw a lot of people walking out of Sears. Forget baseball, I said to myself, shopping is America’s favorite pastime. (more…)

I am from Africa. No, not that Africa. I was not destitute. Not this Africa either. I am not next in line to any throne, nor am I a son of a politician. I am of that middle group that is too blind to notice they are dirt poor, and know better than to care. If you asked me, I would tell you I came to America to go to school. And that is the truth. But if you boil that down, I came to America for a better opportunity. For the most part, I have found it. College educated, gainfully employed, home owner, blah blah blah. I don’t (or rather shouldn’t) have anything to complain about. (more…)

This is a poem I wrote few years ago trying to find a new way to tell an old story to some college students. I enjoyed it, and thought I should do similar for other people I find worthy of such efforts. But years later, beside this, I have only one other: W.E.B. DuBois. I would like to write one on Bob Marley (among others)…one day.

Every day a man is born
Very so rare
Stars bow, heaven opens it doors
An angel lands on earth
And tries to help
Sons and daughters of Adam and Eve find their way back to Eden

Who shot him?
Somebody shot an angel
Clipped his wings
Peter shot Martin
(more…)

Gerald, the African-American
Should the current Administration, by Congressional decree, have apologized in 2009 to African-Americans for slavery and Jim Crow Laws (on behalf of America)? I say no, at least to the slavery part. The fact the current President is African-American makes him no more or no less obligated to do so. I say not this Administration, any in the future, or any of the past Administrations should have to make such an apology.

Slavery existed long before there was a United States of America. It was practiced millenniums before the American Colonies utilized it to transform this nation. Peonage is as old as the “oldest profession” (prostitution), which some argue is also a form of slavery – whether the provider does so willingly or not.
(more…)

Arabs are not bad
It’s just that terrorists
Wear turban and say Allah
Before blowing themselves up
At checkpoints and crowded
Roadways among Muslims
On their way to offering zakat to the needy
(more…)

I’m not a financial expert by any stretch of the imagination. But whenever I read an article about personal finance, I always feel like saying duh, I knew that. So I thought, maybe I know a little more than the average person. If so, maybe I should share. So here we go. (more…)

IBé, The African-in-America
Here is joke for you in the style of “two [whatever] walk into a bar…”: Two Africans walk into a place of employment looking for a job, who do you think is going to get hired? Take your time. Any guesses? Give up? Okay, I’ll tell you. The one whose uncle is a boss there, or whose father is a bigger boss in a bigger office down the road.

In many parts of Africa, you can have all the accolades school can afford you, you can have the best resume that would make you the envy of any unemployed person in America, but…if you don’t know somebody who knows somebody, forget it; you would probably never get that job you can do with your eyes closed and one arm tied behind you.

I wish there was an Affirmative Action for that. (more…)

I share my poems with the world. On here and elsewhere. When it comes to critiquing the form, I keep my opinions to myself. I figure to each his own; eventually, we all arrive at a comfortable place, and in one’s own eyes (and my opinion) that is always the right and best place to be. But…

There is no right or wrong way to write a poem or give a spoken word performance. That’s a matter of fact. As a matter of opinion, there are bad poems and awful performances. (more…)