“C’est La Vie.”
All I would have to do is write a poem about George Bush, or bad relationships,
give you a thesis on how much hate from me the haters get
3 minutes spoken worth of pages explaining it.
But I’m tired of this playing it safe shit.
So instead of doing the same ol’ conformist piece
I think I’ma go out on a limb with my next statement
What I feel is the Lord blessing me,
Others don’t think so necessarily.
Like somebody, somewhere, owes you something.
Like the Divine giving you life somehow entitles you to some charity,
You don’t even realize the best present you ever received is going unappreciated.
You could have been the other million sperm that ended up in your mom’s belly
But like Sunni Patterson says “We made it, we made it, we made it.”
And I do get complacent
I’m not claiming
to be perfect, but I can always put things back in Perspective, G.
Like, when I get in my car,
Step on my clutch and turn my key
Pull out the driveway with no destination in mind,
no questions to answer,
no agenda to keep,
wind down my windows,
iStart my Ipod,
Set back my seat
Push the gas with my feet
Let the wind resist me…
A smile in my heart exposed in my teeth
That’s being free.
And sometimes I’ll find a lady,
and she’ll have a nice face
A pleasant way about her,
A Spoken Soul and a hint of Pozazz
Short natural hair, smooth caramel skin with a cinnamon taste,
Petite frame, Short, thick, track legs, small waist and big ass
Even Hollywood Would Holla if given the chance
Cause when she walks she rhymes
She’s got a soul like Soul
She’s got hips like Jazz
And She smiles like God’s grace.
She’ll catch my eye first with her “Come see about me” glance
Like she chose ya boy out of all the other men in the place.
And I’ll move to her space,
heart ready in case
She’s already waiting for some other man.
I’ll tell her my name, And extend my hand
She’ll tell me hers back and say “Excuse the haste, but
can we skip the small talk and get right to the chase?”
I’ll queue the band,
We’ll start to dance,
We’ll head to my car first, and her bed last
And sometimes I won’t need to ask
my friends what we should do out of hanging at home talking, or heading to the club cause,
we’ll already be 2 hours deep in a conversation about what we would name our sons or,
how we don’t want to have daughters, even though girls are sweeter,
but if we do have one
our first priority to keep her
will be buying a gun,
and we’ll barbeque ribs, grill steaks and fry shrimp.
Here’s your corona, I got my tonic somebody pass the Ketel one
Put the game on, deal some bid whist, “Let that Outkast run!”
Chilling all night til the night is done,
we walk outside to find morning’s begun.
God burns our eyes with his love from the sun
And of all my blessings I’d sacrifice none
whether it’s something as complicated as searching for a wife is
or as easygoing as having a cool chick to pass the time with.
My dad shakes my hand, makes me laugh so hard I want to cry and
My mom gives me kisses, and to show me she loves me sometimes
I won’t even ask and she’ll make apple pie.
My sister keeps me up on current events, and every now and then she’ll pick a play fight.
Getting good feedback on the poems and stuff I write
The soul that comes from Fiona’s voice, The adrenaline rush Tupac Brings,
The motivation I get from Mos Def’s style
Inspiring poems from Lionel King
Sade’s angelic voice whenever she sings
Sadness and joy out the trumpet from Miles
When Coltrane plays “My favorite things”,
cause these are a few of my favorite things.
My favorite thing
is to see my kids smile
when they realize they can reach any goal in sight.
When the moon welcomes me home cause I’m a child of the night,
And the Sun loves my face with it’s rays so bright.
Rainbows are God saying “It’s gon’ be alright”
Reaching the crowd on an open mic.
Smith, Gian. "O Beautiful Storm." Gian Smith Official Website. Web. 09 May 2014. <http:// giansmith. com/ blogs/ cest-la- vie-new- rhumba-mix/>. Used by permission.