The Act Of Turning The Lights On

There’s something truly special about the people that light up your life.

In fact, there’s something incredibly exciting about someone who shows you a different shade of your personality or better yet, and this might be a stretch, a worse side of yourself. A few nights ago, I was told something that even the smallest version of the poet inside of me never thought of. The conversation made me feel secure in my purpose and hopefully, in my gift to the world around me. It was not only succinct, clear, and desperately humbling to the touch, but also like a warmth that never leaves you.

“Mike, you enjoy the process of lighting up the individual lights in your friends.”

Now, I’ve been told a few things in my life but nothing hit me like that statement.¬† When I was younger, and the only child in the household, I found myself in the center of everything. This, of course, was whether I wanted to be in the center of things or not. In some ways, this is quite the advantage: never have to share toys, always being the cutest kid no matter whether you washed ytour hands or not, and even being able to do the worse things with only a quick smile for that “get out of jail free card”.

At any rate, I only want to thank you all for being such great people in my life. This blog, for what it’s worth. is perfectly designed to share with you my world…and if you haven’t gathered so far, it all revolves¬† around you.

M.C. Davis

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I Take Care Of My Kids!

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Sunny
days take
center
stage
as she cries
out
to the
world that
she
“takes care
of her kids”
but
the street
noise
and those
dudes
with Kangols
and leather
man-purses
caught him
first.

The
neighborhood
dims
and
closes
its
eyes
as her hand
tightens, twists,
and grabs
at what’s
left
of her
youth.
“I take
care of
my kids”
she etches
in her diary,
but who’s
taking
care of
you I
have to
ask.

Report
cards
flutter the
mailbox
and
PTA meetings
come and go
and still,
he’s crossing
the street
to
those ones
who
give him
the instant
gratification
you’ve seemed
the have
lost
during
his fluent
years.

M.C. Davis

The Best Of Times

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Of late, I’ve been extremely lazy.

I mean, I’ve been so lazy that my couch–where I’ve been stationed for the past week–has officially put out an eviction notice. At times, especially when I realize the true extent of my laziness, I find myself quite angry but–as you can imagine–that quickly goes away while the more subtle “It’s okay, you’ve earned it” philosophy slowly creeps in. Even when I’ve made every effort to get up extra early to jump start all my forgotten errands, I’ve found myself quickly snuggled back on the couch with a remote control in one hand, and a bucket of some type of food in the other.

You only get one chance at this life right?

Well, today I will begin anew…and if anything, I’m checking myself into a Reality Check Hotel and living out the bear bones of being excited about my life and the things that make it strong and vibrant! I will start each day with a new flavor of what it means to truly live because these days are not guaranteed…

…well, maybe after I finish this bucket of Popeye’s.

M.C. Davis

Flipside of Things

See,
when
we spoke
last
week
about
the future
and you
smacked,
dashed,
and sashayed
your
way
to another
man,
I thought,
“Well, heck!”
and went
on my
merry way…
well,
until
I met
your sister,
and the
joy of
watching
you
squirm
suddenly
became
the new
us.

M.C. Davis

Like I Need Another Hole In The Head

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…well, to some folks, another hole in the head will improve some things.

The other day, as I trekked home on the Metro as usual, I found myself thinking about how fortunate some of us have to be able to see the absolute worse in others. I thought about the guy who simply sits on the curb and does nothing except to extend his hand for change…or perhaps the guy who plays Baroque music in Dupont Circle with his trumpet, with only a smile and a cool temperament for an encore. I also thought about the guys at the top of the scale who, for some strange reason, find it extremely difficult in living with millions of dollars but not in happiness.

The slight chance that we’re alive and kicking will always be a mystery, and for one moment in my own life, I would love to feel that spirit of being truly alive and kicking.

And yes, with another hole in my head.

Then, I wake up and realize that we’re all connected and the noise from the weak will always resemble the same noise from the strong.

M.C. Davis

On Meeting Ms. Giovanni

We
glanced
at each
other
like
we
secretly knew
about
the
days
of hop-scotch,
Mason jars,
and ketchup
sandwiches;
yes, the hair
like
mop boards,
and skin
like the
greyed-out
Sahara,
and oh my,
the tingle
of knowing
cousin knot-head
and little
Ray Ray,
or the
sister down
the way
that sold
flip-flops
for
two
and three
dollars coins.

Yes, she knew
about
the days
that called
us to roost
by
the streetlight,
or the
village that
raised
me to be
a Man;
or even
the noise
of the
hustle
that lured
me on
the
regular.

Yes, those
days lingered
on
like
the pillow sheets
in between
my hands
and your
lips,
but when
I met
Ms. Giovanni,
I saw
poetry
on her
skin
quietly
escaping like
musical notes
on a sheet
of music
that began
in four
part harmony,
but
left me
in pain
for a
symphony
of duets.

M.C. Davis

Please Pass The Lysol…

…or at least a bit of cough syrup.

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These last few days, I have been battling a slight cold of sorts, and even though this type of thing happens every year for me, the fact that most of the important people in my life are also sickly might mean more than a typical sniffle.

At work, for example, everyone is sick and yes, there is ample Lysol ready to tackle even the most sneaky of virus critters. I mean, we’re at the ready for anything that’s lurking and even at times, we’re even afraid to talk to one another.

But, that’s another story.

So, as I recover from this scene of events, take time out of your schedule–if you so dare have one–to go ahead and spray down the keyboard, mouse, monitor, and the loose items surrounding that cup of coffee that been sitting there for a week.

Well, maybe just a few days.

M.C. Davis