Letting Go

*Letting Go*

Whenever I hugged my mother as a child,
The hardest part was
Letting Go.

And when 10-year reunions are formed
or a spouse returns home from a long day,
or a child, not unlike me, hugs his mother,
They Too must eventually let go.
It’s that “Let-Go Moment” when the amount of seconds add up to a magic moment, and once it is felt, it’s ok: you can let go. Even if you want to hold on forever, you force yourself to let go…and sometimes after a few short seconds, the magic returns, and you hug again.

They hold one another by the sleeve,
They stare, and my word,
They Smile.
They may hug over and over again, but sooner or later, they must
Let Go.

I always hated to let go.

Mothers, most of all, fear letting go.

As I unloaded our van into my dorm room,
I noticed a proud, yet sorrowful mother…

She held her daughter for 18 years…

And as a tear fell,
She waved
&
Let Go.

From Art of Mind II: All In
Copyright © 2012 Clyde Aidoo

Tagged with: , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Poetry

Give Up, Dude

*Give Up, Dude*

“Don’t Give Up.”
“Don’t Ever Back Out.”
Let’s just be honest:
You need to
Tap The Fuck Out.
Don’t stay in a battle
That you can never win,
It takes giving up
To live to fight again.

From Art of Mind II: All In
Copyright © 2012 Clyde Aidoo

Tagged with: , , ,
Posted in Poetry

Closure

*Closure*

A friend of mine once told me that
There is no such thing as closure.
When they’re done, they’re done,
That’s It.
It’s Over.
It’d sure be nice if it was more like the Soap Operas.
I don’t mean the yelling and the drama and the throwing stuff…
It’d be nice to know that you’d see that face again and that whatever is meant to be —
Will Be,
And whatever happens — there will be closure.
It’d be nice to saunter aimlessly about town and end up on a pier at the same time the woman on your mind is just standing there, looking out into the water…all by herself…
With Absolutely No One Else Around.
That’d sure be nice.
To have that kind of timing, and for it to be out of our hands.
Only in real life this never happens, instead the weeks go by as we await a phone call from the one who has to deep down recognize the error of their ways…or at least have the courtesy to discuss their
Conclusion.
But the phone never rings.
I’d like to just take a walk through the park in an empty town designed only to unscramble empty pieces and puzzling endings and find the same woman a week or so later. Once again. All by herself.
And not even be like,
“Oh my God. You again!? What are the odds!?”
But just simply state,
“Hi. How are you?”
All…Matter-of-Fact-Like.
Then we’d pick up where we left off at the pier.
And if it must keep happening at the park, or the same pier over and over again, or best yet — an empty bar, that’s my favorite…then so be it. It will continue to happen because in this world, our guardian angels refuse to let us go out like that. They will see to it that we get that closure we so richly deserve.
And after everything is finally out and settled…suddenly, that park, the pier, and the only local bar in town suddenly become even emptier…or much more crowded.
And the face is gone as it should be.
Like a relationship purgatory that didn’t know where to go, but is now finally wherever it belongs, and out your life.
It may be awkward at times, but it’d sure be nice to have a little closure. To find out what went wrong without always being the one to pick up the phone.
Or better yet, to say an amicable goodbye and sincerely reflect on memories one last time.
Yeah, that would be nice.
Almost as if thinking about the other person wills it into happening.
If it were like that down here, then
I would’ve seen her Every Single Day…
Until there was closure.

I don’t think I’d be the only one.
Those parks would be as packed as Wrigley, those piers as crowded as Navy, and those bars would have Capacity Met
Yes, yes, yes, it’d be Nice to have just a little closure.
But that’s why it’s a Soap Opera.
Because here in this lonesome town:
The Phone Never Rings.

From Art of Mind II: All In
Copyright © 2012 Clyde Aidoo

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Poetry

Blank Stare

*Blank Stare*

Her eyes rise.
She gives a seductive glare.
But until she knows what she’s eying—
This is just a blank stare.

The physical scope is far too limited,
Her lens can’t expose what really matters.

I know what she doesn’t know about herself —
Which is that she knows nothing at all.

Her eyes are dancing and her lips are curling.
Very inviting, not very exciting.
Because I know until she gets to know me,
Our slate is clear and will likely remain unwritten.
I’m an outsider, different, perhaps even unusual,
I’m willing to bet this type isn’t her usual.

I wish I could say I don’t judge by covers,
but she seems easy to read.
I’m nearly certain I know what she goes for,
and I have the good sense to know it ain’t me.

So her smiling and staring is empty —
Since it means Absolutely Nothing.
If I am wrong, by all means
sit with me:

And let’s get to work —
Filling in these blanks.

From Art of Mind II: All In
Copyright © 2012 Clyde Aidoo

Tagged with: , , ,
Posted in Poetry

Me Against The World

*Me Against the World*

Never take your eyes off the opponent…
Any great will tell you that.
Even before the bell,
Tyson was the best at that.
I’m alone in the corner.
Eyes on opponent.
Always on opponent.
I pace, loosen, stretch, waggle.
They may remain steady
or step violently in an attempt to intimidate.
My eyes shift with them.
Where they go, my eyes follow. Every movement is countered by my head.
My focus is undaunted, unflinching.
Finally, we meet in the center.
Human rulebooks stand in between…
Telling me what I can and can’t do.
I pay no attention.
I stay focused on my opponent.
I make no faces—
No menacing gestures.
I just stare.
One of Tyson’s victims swayed during the staredown,
trying to stay active and keep his energy.
Tyson’s head remained firm as Iron,
But his eyes swayed with the opponent.
Left to the right. Right to left. His eyes followed.

I go back to my small corner
where no one can touch me.
My opponent has already been announced.
The match already set.
It’s Me Against the World.
Bell rings.
I leave my corner in pursuit of a partner.
A Formidable Tag Team Duo.
Together let’s win the title; Change the title:
*Us Against the World*

From Art of Mind II: All In
Copyright © 2012 Clyde Aidoo

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Uncategorized

A Salesman’s Omission

“Go out and Live!”
Exclaims the world!
They sell the notion of
Living Every Day
Like it’s the last
and to not let a single minute
Be lost.
With a drowsy eye
and a wavering head—
I sit up in my bed,
and respond,

“How much does that cost?”

From Art of Mind II: All In
Copyright © 2012 Clyde Aidoo

Tagged with: , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized

Hours in Volumes

*Hours in Volumes*

Days shouldn’t feel this empty.
Sealing capsules without substance lowers already knocked off pedals of will,
halting locomotive chains that were
barely moving anyway.
I’m still expected to approve the dross and waste of a full 24-hour rotation,
and send it out as if completed, and as if ready to begin anew the following day.
How can I? How can one be satisfied with a malfunctioning vacuum of winnowed pieces
that cannot be outplaced?
A Day’s Quality has managed to evaporate once more,
so I must now settle for a quantitative mass-producing of
Hours in Volumes.
Deep-Sixed Ticks rise from a deserted grave
and I succumb to its strangle, Until my body Slumbers,
but No —
I Will Not Rest.


From Art of Mind II: All In
Copyright © 2012 Clyde Aidoo

Posted in Uncategorized

For Those Who Can’t Find the Words

*For Those Who Can’t Find the Words*

Not everyone can afford to
go on a shopping spree of assorted degrees―
Education isn’t always earned— sometimes it’s simply paid for.
Some may not be legibly gifted,
or Do have a say, but just can’t lift it…
Some shout ideals and make passionate appeals,
but no one hears them:
Because they have no voice.
Even I may be among the latter, so this
is for those who have felt what I felt and feel what I felt — and may feel again.
My pain was no stronger or more poignant,
Only theirs may never be heard—
Just because they can’t find the words.

From Art of Mind II: All In
Copyright © 2012 Clyde Aidoo

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Uncategorized

Promiscuous Birth

*Promiscuous Birth*

Only on this
Flawed Earth:
The more people you love,
The more people breed hate.

From Art of Mind: Philosopoems to the World

Copyright © 2011 Clyde Aidoo

Tagged with: , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized

The Great Diversion

*The Great Diversion*
 
An Author writes his novel—
Hoping he’ll make it big…
A Musician plays in his Band –
Hoping for a Larger gig.
An Artist paints a canvas—
Hoping to be on display…
Broadcast Majors plan to Announce—
They study Play by Play.
An Athlete Runs Many Miles
To be on
A Walk of Fame…
A Poet develops Verse—
Desperately
Throwing Out
Her Name.
Well-Connected Dreamy Eyes
Think they can save TV,
One Network after another—
They’re brought back to Reality.
 
Others just want to get by;
They live just for the payout…
Right when there’s time for Love—
They’re right back on their Way Out.
 
A Mechanic Repairs
A Therapist Cares
An Accountant Counts
While Salesmen Discount
Carpenters Construct
Businessmen Conduct
Fashionistas Design
Architects Align
A Butcher Chops
A Janitor Mops
A Valet Parks
A Detective Narks
A Cabby Drives
A Sailor Dives
Acupuncturists Puncture
Engineers Structure
A Chef Fries
A Pilot Flies
An Agent Spies
A Politician Lies
And Workers Work
And Workers Work
And Work and Work…
 
They Work and Work and Work,
They Dream, They Sweat, They Chatter,
It’s all a Great Diversion
From the One thing that Really Matters.

From Art of Mind: Philosopoems to the World

Copyright © 2011 Clyde Aidoo

Tagged with: , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized