|
Seeing his mother go from College senior with him still in the womb to the top of the Mortgage business with him as a young man gave Sean Battle the inspiration to do anything in life no matter the obstacle, so long as you work for it. This fuels him to keep on pushing pen to paper in this path of poetics, hoping that what became a coping mechanism during junior year in high school can take him as high as his potential will allow. From paternity to challenging symbols of justice and how and why they blur lines , Battle?s pattern of topics all stem from witnessing other families and the children they raised, comparing their lives with his. The Downside is that he compares himself too much to other people, yet such comparison fuels his writing and, combined the need to break quiet guy barriers and a love of hearing people react to his many daydreams, carved his destiny to be a poet .
Currently attending Rutgers University in New Brunswick, NJ, Battles accomplishments are headlined with his position as president and Co-host of Verbal Mayhem, a weekly open mic at Rutgers. He has also been a moderator at Hiphoppoetry.com. Battle hopes to keep his mind open to all forms of not only poetry, but artistic expression period. For he understands that in these times of struggle, a strong voice conveyed well is the first step Towards forging a path for one?s self to follow.
|
Confessions of a Step Father
by Sean Battle
Copyright: © 2007
My hands still reek of baby powder.
One curved around a coffee mug handle,
The other handling the curves of my wife.
Her head inching further to my shoulder .
Strands of black hair tickling my earlobe
Lips letting loose the question,
“can you hear me now baby ?”
Never was a fan of Verizon, but her eyes are filled
With pools of vodka so addicting, I pledged to live life
Drinking from her pupils till stomach aches
From feeling what she sees.
But on this round of shots, I’ve learned
That if love is pain ,human thresholds
Can only endure so much before one
Has to tap out and break from the agony of hearing,
“I already have two kids from my last boyfriend;
I don’t have the energy for a third.”
But instead, I nod in agreement
Betraying the envy inside for her ex
Coming every other weekend.
Wisking his son and daughter away
Just to play dad for a few hours.
Thinking that a day at Chuck E. Cheese
Compensates for letting me do
All the dirty work for five days.
Damning nose to hell with every
Diaper change Kasey needs
While Kyle and I share shaving cream
Cause he wants to grow up
And be a man…Like his father.
And honestly, I shouldn’t be like that
Considering some men don’t have the brain
To take their child out to Fridays on a Saturday,
Never using Sunday to pray for consciousness
Cause their too scared of eating crow cooked for cowards.
What tears me apart inside though
Is seeing his curly hair , brown eyes
And alleyway dark pigment embedded
In such beautiful works of art.
Where is my canvas to splashed
with genetic paint from brushes
Belonging to me and the woman I love ?
If she even loves me at all.
Sometimes I wonder if she said yes
Just to show him she can move on
Without being tied to a relationship
Strong enough for living together
And having kids, but never for I do’s
Gluing it together in holy matrimony.
I take my vows seriously.
So for better or worse, I’ll wait
With each cup of coffee
Changing of diapers
And memorization of prescience
Via hair strands,
Till she wakes up one day and realizes
That yes we do have kids,
But they are not ours.
And with all due respect
To the son and holy spirit,
My trinity is husband, wife, child.
I want such a masterpiece completed
By our DNA joined as one
Before death due us part.
|
|