We Do Learn The Things We Learn 402d1m

WE DO LEARN THE THINGS WE LEARN

Poems written by AARON JONES

Copyright © 2016 by Aaron Jones.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016917252 ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-5245-5175-9 Softcover 978-1-5245-5174-2 eBook 978-1-5245-5173-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/12/2016

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Contents

SECTION I

1. We Do the Things We Learn

2. The Dust Has Not Settled

3. Mama Waits

4. Like Close

5. Made to be Beautiful

6. Like My Words

7. No Mask

8. Miss Her

9. Early In love

SECTION II

10. Oakland is Thick

11. Crack

12. We Need Not Know The Storm

13. Impact On How I Love You

14. Jazz To All My Brothers

15. I am A Blackman Pouring

16. Im Leaning on Myself

SECTION I

WE DO THE THINGS WE LEARN

To Sheri

We do learn the things we learn like up all night still the Blackman poet ri against your sweet shadowed woman sitting whole with no shirt on early at the morning able to miss you in between what I know and what I have to feel like roaming man roaming

without the side of a kiss from you settling me down we do learn the things we learn Not Always slipping into the right Direction being alone Like an empty chair You can by in number of times When love walks in your walk as I look up to complete

The gesture Still reading in the dark baby

because together our memories are short moving to measure the poems thrown on the floor of things piling without you on top of each other not playing close enough to hear the ceiling sending me those signals as the church

bells ring across the street we do learn the things we learn

pressed into love like glass going one way to teach me at your presence still the Blackman poet racing the chase of you keeping Wisconsin quiet where your mother lives Just

Because We could Find Those Chances and do something together that counts for now in everything that I still love in you as we do learn the things We Learn baby

THE DUST HAS NOT SETTLED

The dust has not Settled in Ferguson and neither has Michael Brown shot like all the others innocent Blacks but not found guilty whites living in their

laws to be color safe as the dust has not settled again and neither has the call for justice.

MAMA WAITS

She is Still Here like Loving not to forget cooking into the baking pies and serving God easy like loving all of her children

as she waits in heaven with her son.

Baby you are TOM In living color for me like words jumping close to the wall learning where I love U at first just being close again between your blue car in the parking lot

squeezing our bodies to tell us something as we can listen gathering what we need in love

touching out bud in the journey we have to take like I love you well written and keeping a promise because Baby you are in my living not like living room enough for me to love U in every chance

I get to be close.

LIKE CLOSE

Like close with holding you because I may not meet your mother like telling her the pain you shared being so much alone like hanging outside your arms and missing it because you were the key

being their beautiful daughter more than once always asking for permission to know what love is and you could not tell her when you did not know yourself with their leaving never being there enough to teach you something as you became already beautiful on your own.

MADE TO BE BEAUTIFUL

One more person written up like now a daughter’s choice made to be beautiful as you teach the children like you love them first listening close to your father and the other 6 almost

army to you at attention reading into love over there standing still so cute to be a picture like that first time you heard it so close in these lines made to be beautiful like you.

LIKE MY WORDS

You are like my words I love you being there at my heart warm enough to be open as I write to live the lines that roll now to catch this moment and keep it close just

to realize your beauty word for word being able to continue at 2:20 AM.

NO MASK

You wear no mask to love me like I know the drawings in fast pencils being sweet from lines as you move and I love you drawing into me You wear no mask to cover love being my perfect woman When you laugh

in fast pencil the artist different from your mother’s words being not the same as I love you

written by my hands dark just to hold you close not wearing the mask your project to cover my eyes because I see the beauty

that I love with no mask to be made Baby.

MISS HER

You miss her like lines you draw close to her memory being the woman like her warm touch keeping you in her arms as she loves you silent with everything breathing like you still the granddaughter in Japanese colors taught from her living with her choices made to love you

in every place the heart when you miss her to cry the night like lines in art you draw close to her memory in warm touch and love.

EARLY IN LOVE

Morning Is the right time to love a woman like u as I start to hear your heart beat

early in love.

SECTION II

OAKLAND IS THICK

Oakland is a thick city like the wind blowing and the people that love the streets singing like a woman’s curves maybe hips around East 14th

or the avenues like 11th holding choice to be so beautiful because Oakland is a thick city. Aaron 11-6-14 2:45 AM

CRACK

Crack like white finding breaking not as good as glass no longer clear when used to be high in between the ground and cement scratching at the skin in all night long with searching

the choice in broken pieces that will not sleep as crack will hurt the human part just to stay at the highest level to learn the window cracked open. Aaron 11-25-14 12:45 am

WE NEED NOT KNOW THE STORM

We need not know the storm through the glass window Sitting alone while she es into the pages that turn into that novel mentioned yesterday open today at 10:10am as one reminder that sleeps in the sound of another chance being at the stop of the invisible man still searching sunshine at your hip

We need not know the storm laying on the couch as the pain is listening because you love the exact place twice the woman seeking the man at the sound of you beautiful storming through the finish as the lines become naked

like music playing because the photos have all the real light in them raising the choices that curve your lips to speak

In those moments that can catch the heart to be warm and reckless living at the same time of brown paper bags and people sharing their needs through walls and open conversation that only make sense in live and opportunity gaining everything that counts for something when the storm is finally over.

IMPACT ON HOW I LOVE YOU

You are the carving of sunshine holding yellow to be beautiful As I black out just to catch you

before the floor can have its impact on how I love you.

JAZZ TO ALL MY BROTHERS

Jazz to all my brother’s listening at the sound our father’s still make with all the windows wearing the clothes of the night before like spreaded peanut butter Still playing huth in our shadows learning from those little boys being close to all that jazz growing the children to see the notes left open on the table sizzling like friend chicken caught in the smell of our

manhood almost ready to sleep our dreams into choices and anxious letters that spell all of the beats out moving into drums and saxophones shaking like the wind at 1:23am still good and generous when the sweat and stop sometimes to feel the jazz To all my brother’s who fit the pattern of men.

I AM A BLACKMAN POURING

Just to fill the clear glass and make it brown like Hennessey giving it that taste just to be your lips I am a Blackman pouring without noise being the liquid just to hold in a need to I am a Blackman

pouring you close just to realize my desire loving you to drink the night all the way finished As Iam a Blackman Pouring.

IM LEANING ON MYSELF

I am leaning on myself without the slice of tears falling in the silent hallways raising shadows to be single motion as I put pressure detesting the break of wearing black with the noise outside rising to know the chase. Almost empty when I love you still alone at the right words

spilling now over the floor of everything realizing that you would rather work the night shift just say no at my choice and let me be broken at 3:16am almost the natural time when this man is leaning against all the photographs and cardboard boxes that you leave me to write no so anxious

to promise something else in the middle of the pills falling as falling comes still circling the earth

almost being round enough to continue as we use to share that laugh and laughter bent into each other heart and soul not always being hard when it didn’t fit as I loved you anyway like taught by my grandmothers stirring of gumbo and rice in the big black pot boiling to finish As I lean on myself Like playing chess Just to touch the queen As I can give what I can As my stomach growls and it hurts to be in that pain Using these words To sleep with under the blanket

Of everything That I know being alone again to find the noise sitting brave

without the sunset crossing at your bridge stealing just to have something to do as this poet is stuck in human feelings As the wind blows Still In the moning I’m leaning on myself to be the strong

choice I must make holding what I can In my brown wooden room listening to you at my mistakes without knowing how to go Black still writing when you hear all of this sitting by yourself turn to be something different Counting

on my go back like stars that come to view themselves and not be mad.

as my body shifts to lean on you hoping you will be there as the fall comes