Moan Owner Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

More than many,
Have grievances to validate.
Most spending their entire lives,
Living them as if they should qualify...
The right to be human beings.
And this experienced humiliation,
Resides inside...
Those who feel their ancestors' pride.
Promising to themselves,
Never will they be found...
Weeping and whining.
About how difficult it is,
It would be to eliminate obstacles...
They have yet to face.
Or be called disgusting names.
By others of another race.
With this done to complain...
Over a steak they ordered medium rare.
Not prepared or cooked as requested.
Attempting to impress,
Friends and business associates...
That no one respects,
A well dressed Black man.
Capable to afford a tailored silk suit.
And living in a mixed gated neighborhood.
Where all the children,
Have no excuses to make for being...
Mulattos!

"Calm down.
What's going on?
What on Earth is the matter with you.
They will prepare you another steak.
Just because we admitted,
We are vegetarians.
That has nothing to do,
With you being a Black man.
Where you live or who you are married to.
We all have attended quiet swap parties, right? "

Sssshhh.
Keep your voice down.

"Hey...
You're the moan owner here.
And that's not a rumor.
I heard that with my own ears.
Is it us being vegetarians?
Or you being reminded,
How you prefer your meat.
And you lack showing to prove,
Your versatility is more in your head.
And not in bed."

Listen.
If you want this argument,
Publicly.
You have nothing more than I can,
To prove my ancestors...
Were well endowed with stamina.
And courage.
In spite of the opposition.

"Thank God.
Your steak is coming.
And I hope it is prepared,
In the way to make your ancestors proud."

Your asking for it, huh?

"Not at all.
I've seen it and have no interest."