The Brooder's Defense

by Patrick Scott Barnes

Was told I brood too much.
Was told it scares women.

Friend of mine once explained
I was a poet.
Wished he hadn’t done that.
Don’t like women knowing
I’m a poet.
Ruins my chance of gettin’ laid.
Women change on you.
All of a sudden require you
to act intellectual,
be a gentlemen
and stop using the word “ain’t”.
Like it better when they thought
I was just another anti-social asshole.
Could’ve gotten laid that way.

Don’t know why I brood.
Just a habit, I guess.

Happy with broodin’.
Makes me feel confortable.
Makes me feel safe.

Wish folks would
leave me alone about it.
Mind their own business.
Get a life.
Go find someone else
to pick on that cares.

Women complain to friends
about me all the time.
Sorry, don’t how to read minds.
How the hell was I supposed to know
the woman liked me?
She couldn’t speak?
She couldn’t say hello?
Somethin’ was wrong with her lips?
How was I supposed to know
she liked me?
Was just mindin’ my own business.
Wasn’t being a dick to her.
And why all of a sudden it’s my fault?

Black man can’t even brood in peace.
Just tryin’ to chill.
Just tryin’ to keep sane.
Just tryin’ to keep a peaceful mind.

Ain’t tryin’ to scare anybody.
Ain’t tryin’ to cause harm.
Ain’t even tryin’ to gain attention.

Next one fuckin’ with me
about my broodin’
gonna get cussed out.
Ain’t playin’.
Tired of this shit.

Act like I said something obscene
about their mothers.
Act like I’m the worst next thing
to George Dubya Bush.
Act like I tore up
a picture of John Paul II
on Saturday Night Live.