Frustrated

Aside from describing my mood right now, as promised, here is the text of the poem that I wrote at Carter Park for BlackOut that Tuesday night, July 19th. The title? Frustrated. Situational irony at its finest. But then I hear Bahamadia's U Know How We Du and I'm snapped back to the reality of what life is all about - being happy and enjoying every second. Word.

Without trying to be overly complex
I find myself stranded at a crossroads
A fork in the road arose
From being too frustrated with wack-a$$ rappers who get big-time play from wack-a$$ journalists
Yet my peoples that really keep it real still have to accept muted critical acclaim

Frustrated with having too much to do on day
To being bored the next
Frustrated with too little sex
And not being able to flex...as much as I'd prefer
To not just being able to stroll the streets at night - my primetime
Similar to my prime which is a moving target 2 months away

I steadily find myself both yearning to find a way and a better tomorrow
And hoping that my little midget can enjoy life's highs ad avoid much of its sorrow
Sometimes I wish I could borrow his pain and claim it as my own
But I know that these are the breaks
Which ring most true in his own shoes
So I'll resort to making sure he keeps his eyes and his ears wide open
While I pay better attention to my words, wordplay, and how I treat women
Because I know that's the surest way
For him to avoid claiming the pain of my frustrated baby daddy complex