Untitled

open mic - 9/2/08

tell me who your baby mama is
could you pick her coochie out of a line-up?
number 4 step forward please
turn to the left
maybe if you see it doggy-style you could identify
the umpteenth pussy
you skeet inside

bitch was crazy to think you were gonna stick around
her mistake for treating you like royalty
maybe she'll make the cover
strap on a thong and that's the closest she'll get to you
King

tell me who your son is
if you don't see him
he still exists
his kindergarten picture mistaken for you
when he's making dollars you'll be all too familiar
won't need Maury to tell you
those dollars came from you
birthdays survived without you
wondering what's the big deal?
your grandson will never see his daddy
sick cycle continues
while his sister is getting beat on
like you beat down her mama's spirit

I'll tell you who your baby mama is

the mystery woman informing me I'm not your one and only

she must be on her period cause I can smell it on your breath

don't act like you lost

you keep driving to the dead end at the back of my throat

seeking asylum in my arms from the ills of the world you created

I won't be your Amma no more

answering your tugs with hugs

thinking a family we would one day be

an aborted dream never to be

I ain't capable of Immaculate Conception

and will not be baby mama number 3

this shit here is new to me

used to getting what I want when I want him to do me

there must be something about me

but my name ain't Mary

no longer need your brand of hair gel

I stand up napturally natural on my own

me

I'm learning to resist you and your heat-seeking missile

you feel like you know me you said

let that kismet breed no tact

laced with insults like a passive-aggressive

bitch

curb yourself cause you shitting in your pants

you feel me slipping away

KY no longer works like glue

fool me once fool me never again

I shoulda never slept with you

I shoulda never put it in my mouth

I shoulda never let you in my belly

I shoulda never let you touch it

my heart

my soul

wounded

spit venom at me to push me away

I'm gone

not before you feel my sting

looking into your soul I stamp it out like a black widow

if I had a pair of

deez nuts

I'd let them steep in the warmth of your mouth

till my brew is ready for you to sip

7:24 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

What It Is
Category: Writing and Poetry

i spit this at open mic  (8/26)

Let's talk about sex

not the stinky, skin-slapping kind

catching cramps & passing gas

but the slow burn

sex

intensity brewing

sex

makes you cry

sex

talking about the one I love

sex

don't care if you're right-handed or left

up in the clouds

tapping into the liberal gray matter

right-brained, left-brained or third-leg-brained

love you with all my no matter what-ness

we speak the language of x's and o's

hugs and kisses whenever wherever whatever

used to rock that Maxwell fro

that mane posed an occupational hazard

sorry boo

was the only thing within reach while you cook my clit with the heat of your mouth

till my juices boil over

peering through the valley of my peaks and thighs

I watch your perfect circumference in the hue of the golden brown

got me begging for more Ovaltine, please

you've studied my body using the instruction manual imprinted on your brain

don't stop

right there

just like that

I smile

the best gift I can give you

sometimes the only one you'll accept

let me be the cure for the headache in your pants

I swallow the pill and it makes you feel better

taking your pulse with my tonsils

monitoring your vital signs till you flat line in that sweet little death

I've committed murdered

you'll be my victim again

hitting up google to figure out how I did that trick

like a headliner in Hollywood, Bollywood or

beautiful

brown

Nollywood

you love me like I love you

that was a question

but nah relax I aint coming at you like 50 with 21

but 22 answers would suffice

can you handle a stomach paved with the roadmap our child navigated into this world?

the new topography full of treasure trails leading to

Y marks the spot

can you stomach only 1 breast hanging above it?

that rabid proliferation of cells that robbed me of my feminine symmetry

you don't look away in disgust

sucking the remaining teat twice as hard

it melts my heart

sex so passionate got me feeling like I'm cheating on someone

below the belt we're like Bonnie & Clyde

sweet, young and nothing but trouble

your turbocharged love enters me like a piston

powering our V8 engines

racing stripes down your back from my fingernails

if you don't exhale I can't inhale

do re me y tu harmonize all night

with a pocket rocket and socks on

you know what?

let's not talk about sex

let's talk about love

4:57 PM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Don’t Try Just Be
Category: Writing and Poetry

how you be sweet?

you said those words to me and made me melt

right into the arms of another man

the games we play

end in opportunities missed

with no one the winner

to win me

don't try just be who you be you say

but I'm coveted by those close enough to reach out and touch

somebody's hand and make this a better place

to lay my head

and open my heart

my legs ache to open for you

to relive the freaky ecstasy of the first time our bodies came together

I superimpose your essence

            on his sex

                        to get by

squeezing my eyes tight to generate a vision of your face in my mind's eye

bleeding my soul of the eye-to-eye we shared

his cock throbs at exactly the same time as yours

twitches in my mouth as my tongue twirls

jumps in my hand when I stroke while I teabag

don't try just be who you be you say

but I try to get that flutter in my belly

the chill down my spine

the sweat on my chest

the cream in my coochie

the gape in my ass

off his cock my pussy sputters to orgasm

            barely enough

                         to get by

how you doin boo?

whaddup ma?

how you be sweet?

no matter how you say it

I know you love me

you just don't want to

don't try just be who you be you say

so I won't try to be

your lover

woman

friend

when you start to ache

then we'll try again

5:39 PM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

African Beats
Category: Writing and Poetry

African Beats

4:42 PM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Thank You
Category: Life

I have to say "thank you" to a great friend. Wednesday night, or early Thursday morn if you wanna get technical, we had a great conversation. It's so important to find out how others perceive you. Perception is reality (Terrie Williams, I'm reading her book next). It may be hard and painful but it's for your personal growth. Then I spent the day sleep-deprived in the Central Jury room reading "Souls of My Sisters". The timing couldn't have been more perfect. The 1st 100 pages (yes, it was a long day in jury duty) reinforced a lot of what I live by already which is great to see. I'm all about karma and destiny but also playing an active role in where your life takes you. Fear will paralyze you and rob you of your life. I like to "pay it forward" can't just give only to get something in return. I can take compliments graciously and relish in my own accomplishments. There will be mistakes and obstacles and traumas. But women, and Black women especially, have this uncanny ability to make do and get by. It's amazing where the strength and perseverance comes from, the ordeals we survive. Everything we go through in life is a learning experience. There's something to gain from each situation, from everyone you meet. People come into your life for a reason; sometimes that evolves into a season or a lifetime. So I have to say thank you to my friend. He came to me for a reason. I'll be damned if I don't learn my lesson.

Currently reading : Souls Of My Sisters: Black Women Break Their Silence, Tell Their Stories and Heal Their Spirits By Dawn Daniels

7:28 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

The Biology of Love
Category: Writing and Poetry

to the one who touched me
all over
and deep
my deepest gratitude
still searching for words to express how I feel about him
what he does for me
to me
whatever he gives
I'll take
makes me stronger
sometimes I think its one of those once in a lifetime experiences
aint gonna happen again
gotta replay it
over and over
in my head
ruminations
I wanna chew him twice
and never spit him out
i oughta have you canonized
only an heavenly body could bring me to the heights of pleasure
you do
sweet nasty stuff to me
capable of taking away vision
my skin bubbles and oozes
you're a scorcher
breasts armed with dark rock-hard nipples
at the thought of you
upon your command I gag because you're balls deep
my new pet name is Lovelace
begging for a tracheotomy so you can get me to the top
touch my spot
belching up the taste of your cum
until lunchtime
savor the heartburn your cock gives me
i tear up
washing away the sleep from the corner of my eyes
and lick the snot off my upper lip
salty like your sweat laced with dead skin and dandruff
i slurp it down
taking in bits and pieces of you
gonna shit out our own Dolly
can we do this again?
you say
no
ok
I'll meet you there

3:56 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Woman In The Moon

-to my n.o. muse

Woman In The Moon

She woke up with a glow. But he wasn't next to her. He was thousands of miles away but she'd hold him close to her heart. The night before was one of those sultry, summer nights. Once the sun goes down, people let go of their inhibitions. And it's as if all the body heat causes the temperature to rise after sundown. He called to find out what she was up to, if she was chilling, or better yet, cooking. He loved her cooking. Almost better than his Mama's.

"There's no way I'm standing over a hot stove tonight," she said. He smiled to himself cause he could just see her neck roll as she said that over the phone." But I got some leftovers. And fruit and ice cream. We could do something with that. I don't be eating much in this heat anyway."

"True." In an attempt to keep his thoughts clean, his mind ran on tasting her and her kissing away her sweet juices from his lips and chin. That usually made her giggle.

"Yeah, so call me when you're here. I'll throw some stuff together."

• * *

She wore these faded denim shorts and a tank top. Her perky breasts sat perfectly without a bra under the cotton top. She tied her afro high onto her head into a puff; it could be likened to a crown. It accentuated her high cheekbones, her neck, broad shoulders and collarbones.

His beauty wasn't lost on her either. He had that boyish half-grin permanently on his face and eyes you could get lost in. His lips were framed with a moustache and goatie, thicker in the middle and thinner along his jawline and sideburns. His clothes were wrinkled from the day's wear, but she knew they were probably wrinkled when he put them on. She could smell him before they came together for their usual hug and kiss 'hello'. There was a strong possibility that there was nothing between her and him but those khaki shorts he was wearing. She wanted to take off his shirt right there and then but knew the heat would get to him soon enough. He had already wiped his brow with his sweat rag.

"I got some fruit together, and some cashews. And I had some cheese. I hope its enough for the both of us." The impromptu platter she prepared was more than enough for the two of them. He never want for anything when he was with her. "And…" she said with that gleam in her eye, "I gotta bottle of champagne. Mimosas? Straight up?"

"Sounds good."

"Aight. Grab that," she said pointing to the tray.

"Where we going?"

"The roof."

They lay side by side on the sheet they had spread out. And the heat did get to him. He had stripped down to his wifebeater. The stems from the grapes and strawberries littered the tray. The champagne bottle was strewn on its side. They talked and laughed and flirted. And the red, full moon lit the way.

"You know, at the right angle, you look like you on the moon." He rolled his head to face her.

"What? You crazy."

"Fa real, stand up." She made her way to her feet, taking a few seconds to steady herself. "See, like right now, its just yo' figure, yo' silhouette against that giant moon." He put his hand on his forehead. He made this expression like he was just sinking into the moment, taking in the sight of her. "Beautiful."

She started to sway, then entered into a full dance, seductively but also playfully. "Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" The Joker never made it sound that good. She twirled around as if an imaginary partner spun her in a ballroom dance.

He reached out and caressed her calf and the back of her knee. He traced the crease with his finger and she shuddered, almost visibly. The hum of a city bus heading down the boulevard broke their trance.

"You didn't answer my question," she said mockingly stern as she stood over him, straddling him. "Have, you ever-"

"Come here." He tugged on her shorts and she bent her knees to sit on him. He ran his hand along her thigh and up her shorts. He played in that space between her thigh and lip. That tickle made her anticipate his next stop. His fingers moved to a different sort of dampness from the kind caused from the sweat between her thighs. She let out a sigh and raised her hips slightly so he could play. He massaged her nub and made her dance. Just then he dipped his finger inside her. She gasped and her eyes opened; he had been watching every second of his physical orchestration. She took off her tank top in one motion and ran her palms over her nipples. He withdrew his finger and she leaned forward to kiss him.

"First…" he said, putting his wet finger to her lips. She sucked her essence off his digit. Then she was granted permission to kiss his pink lips. She grinded her hips against him and he grabbed her ass so he could follow her flow. She ran her hands under her his wifebeater while she kissed and nibbled on his ear.

Their dry hump turned urgent and she kept her mouth on his neck while she undid her shorts. While her hands were at her zipper she could feel his bulge aching for an escape from his pants. He wanted nothing more but to feel the inside of her body, or her mouth. She stood over him, nude, framed by the full, red moon. He knew she was waiting for him to free himself and he did hastily, kicking off his shorts. She squat over him and took him inside. One thrust, two thrusts, three thrusts, he cupped her buttocks and helped her with her crude bounce. Four thrusts, five. She stood straight up, like she sat on something too hot to handle. He couldn't quite make out her expression, but she must've been smiling.

She bent forward, legs straight and spread, and took him in her mouth.

"You are some kinda crazy. You a sexy crazy, girl." She moaned in response and sucked and slurped. Looking up all he could see was the slope of her back and the rise of her haunches, her head bobbing and his cock throbbing. He didn't want to explode in her mouth, so he stopped her. He wanted to get the ultimate view of that rear.

They both kneeled but he didn't enter her right away. He played in her wetness a bit with the tip of his body. Then he thrust back and forth with his cock sliding up and down between her cheeks. By the time he slid into her, she was already working her fingers around her electric knob. Her body swallowed him whole.

"Why?" she was almost pleading, crying, wanting to know why it felt so good, why her body responded to him that way. As he pumped in and out of her, he also kneaded her breasts and massaged her back. It sent chills up her spine and made him cry out because she had clamped down around him. He knew he was doing her right when he got that love squeeze. The rhythm she worked her clit with grew feverish but he was the tortoise tonight; slow and steady wins the race. His spastic eruption caught him without warning. He lay his chest on her back and hugged her close as he emptied himself inside her.

They toppled over onto to their sides with giggles. They always had so much fun together. He remained inside her while they spooned, in her dream. But she woke up with a glow. He wasn't next to her. He was thousands of miles away but she'd hold him close to her heart.

8:07 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

What Fine Specimens We Are
Category: News and Politics

Shocked, enraged and disgusting. That's how I feel. I'm reading Medical Apartheid by Harriet A. Washington. It chronicles the medical abuse and experimentation done on blacks from colonial times to the present day. In 1998, it was discovered that the body of Addie Mae Collins was not in her grave. As recently as 1977 a black man went missing for months. His body was found on the table in a medical school ready for dissection. His family was never contacted. Blacks were the cadavers of choice in medical schools. They hired certain slaves to be "resurrection men" or "body snatchers". They were taught how to read so they could read the obituaries and funeral announcements and know which cemeteries to raid. There was a full on industry of trade and trafficking of black corpses. Our bodies were mutilated and splayed about, pieces of our bodies were given away as souvenirs, and some doctors even had books bound with our skin - like animal hides! A young African was housed in the ape house at the Bronx Zoo! Because of our dark skin, we were likened to apes and inferior to whites.  They believed that the premature fusing of our skulls limited brain growth and development. Black infants were taken from their parents and had their skulls drilled into and their skulls bones moved around. For some strange reason, they didn't think we felt pain. Surgery was done while "patients" were wide awake. Amputations, Cesarean sections, and tumor removal all done while patients screamed in agony in surgical theaters. But the "white Negros" were victims too. Don't think the high-yellow, mulattos, albinos or Blacks who suffered from vitiligo weren't poked and prodded and paraded around like freaks. The displayed us, barely clothed, in freak shows and circuses as savages and hypersexual due our lower intelligence and oversized sexual organs. Most famous was the Hottentot Venus and when she died, her anus and labia were pickled in glass jars and on display until 1985. And I'm only up to Chapter 6...

Currently reading : Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present By Harriet A. Washington Release date: 2008-01-08

4:57 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

He’s Just Not That Into You
Category: Blogging

He's Just Not That Into You. I've never read that book and luckily I won't have to. It's a pretty simple concept that unfortunately some don't grasp. If he's not calling you, texting you, emailing you, shooting down your carrier pigeons and can never seem to return any of your calls, yeah, he's not feeling you. But when someone really wants someone and wants "it" to happen the way they've envisioned it, it can turn into a sad state of affairs. People get obsessive and cyberstalk, start crying, snot running their nose and shit. I refuse to be one of those girls. I feel deep and love hard. But I can also become indifferent and apathetic like that. If I'm giving and not getting, I shut it down real quick. Self-preservation. You always gotta remember reason, season or lifetime. So for whatever reason they've come into your life and however things turn out, accept it. Think of it as an experience you've survived. You've learned, grown and won't make the same damn mistakes again.

Currently listening : Acoustic Soul Release date: 2001-03-27

4:06 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

This "New" Black Pride

I've noticed this resurgence in Black Pride and of course that's a wonderful thing. Where did it come from? Barack Obama? Maybe. It's definitely sparking debate worldwide. Blacks in France are loving it. Vogue is using all and only Black models in its latest issue. Where is it taking us? Are we headed back to the militant mindset of the Black Panthers? Will that be a positive thing? Whatever happens, we need something that will bring us together, strengthen our communities and families. What will this mean for interracial relations(hips)? Does this mean we won't be "mixing" anymore? What if it's not by our choice? Could other races not want to be with a Black person because we're too angry or hard to be around? Just had some questions running through my head this morning and it was too early to call anyone…

8:52 AM - 18 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

The Ride
Category: Writing and Poetry

The bead of sweat rolled down the center of my back. I imagined it was his finger or better yet, the tip of his nose tracing my spine to the rise of my butt. I changed my stance. I put my right foot in front, shifted my hips to the left and squeezed my thighs together, trying to generate some heat and friction. Anything to make this subway ride more enjoyable.

He loves that little squeeze and release I do involuntarily, sometimes not, when he's inside me. Kitty holds on tight when she feels him pulling out. Then he puts it back in and she throbs some more, swallowing him. Peristalsis of the pussy.  The train let out a good number of people at 125^th Street and I took a seat. I should be able to get mine now. We had a good stretch of express rocking between here and 59^th. I made sure to sit up tall in my seat. Ass all the way to the back. Get the seam of my jeans between my lips, so my clit could roll over it, back and forth.

The man sitting across from me watched. Maybe he knew what was going on, or maybe he just thought I was cute. He was a "suit" buttoned up with a tie, jacket on his lap. I see you. You were looking at my face. Now your eyes are glued to my chest. I glanced down, and my nipples are hard, breasts undulating. I pretend I'm scratching my scalp when I bring my hand to the back of my head, but I'm really imagining he's behind me, with a hand full of my hair, arching my back, demanding to know how deep I want it. And the "suit" watches.

Yeah, take this vision with you to work. He'll probably jerk off in his office thinking about me at lunch.

Grandma down the car is having herself a coughing fit. She's probably leaving a different kinda wet spot on that seat. Wouldn't it be great if they would reward women for childbirth and making it to the Golden years with orgasms every time they cough, sneeze or laugh instead of a leaky bladder? Shit, they'd be laughing all the time. Tell me joke won't you, sonny? I love to laugh.

We continued to head downtown. Mmmm. There it is. I could feel that trickle from deep inside. My precum. But that's all I was gonna get. My stop was next. I'd have to sit in wet panties all day. That first visit I make to the ladies room, I'll take a whiff of my panties while I stoop over the toilet. Remind myself why it's not always so bad to have to go to work in the morning.

7:30 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

My Quasi-Vegetarian Adventure

This bad economy has got me really thinking about what to eat, how much and when. Can't afford the luxuries I love like ice cream and meat. Meat is the big one. People are so wrapped up in what they eat and are identified by their diet. I am an omnivore. I enjoy meat and veggies alike, with a few exceptions (I don't think squash and I will ever come to terms). But I decided its summertime. Appetites are lighter, my pockets are definitely tighter so I'd try my hand at quasi-vegetarian diet for a while. I will only use the meat I have in my fridge/freezer – I won't buy anymore until it runs out or if I'm cooking for guests. What I started with was two chicken legs (thigh and drumstick) a pound of ground sirloin, 1 chicken breast and about ½ pound beef stew.

I read an article in the New York Times (Putting Meat Back in its Place) right before I started this culinary and willpower adventure, about how to eat less meat. Of course it would mean meat wouldn't be the centerpiece of a meal. Meat will be part of a meal. I also decided to cut back on the "white" stuff (I'm cheating a little because I don't eat much anyway). I have brown rice, multigrain pasta, multigrain bread and brown sugar in my cupboard on a regular basis. So when the craving for creamy, buttery, cheesy mashed potatoes hits, I'm going for it.

Ok, back to the meat. So for my first attempt at a meal with minimum meat I did a stir-fry with broccoli. I'm partial to the florets but I also get hungry quite often so I cut the stem and tossed them in too. I threw in cherry tomatoes, black beans and spinach. I seasoned it all with black pepper, garlic, paprika, cilantro and squeeze of honey mustard and chicken bouillon. I cut the meat off a chicken leg and used that in the stir-fry as well. It all looked pretty and colorful in the pan. I packed it to take for lunch to work and thought, "that's it?" My little Tupperware was full, but it seemed like there should be more. I had no idea how my stomach would react. Would it be talking to me an hour later wanting more food? Granted, I eat salads and usually add some meat but I eat big salads.

First day was a bust. I was hungry but couldn't eat. Just wasn't appetizing. It tasted good, but I didn't want it. Its all about presentation! I've been preaching that for years. A plate of veggies with meat on the side looks a lot different from meat mixed with veggies. The next day I did steamed vegetables with the chicken on the side. In my dish it was 1/3 meat to 2/3 veggies. I put some barbeque sauce on the veggies. I actually ate the lunch, but was hungry an hour later. I bought some cashews for a snack and my usual yogurt.

I have to figure out what it is exactly that I'm doing. Am I cutting back on meat or my portions? I keep getting confused and my stomach and mood are paying for it. I don't like feeling hungry. I get miserable, irritable, mouth gets all dry, my stomach hurts, its not pretty. I was hungry, most of that first week. That confusion is probably because I'm not eating enough!

Week 2 I went to an old fav – Tex-mex inspired food. I used the ground meat and "filled" it with mushrooms. With this I can go crazy with everything else! Tons of black beans, corn, salsa, cheese. I swear I could eat that stuff everyday. Some days I throw on guacamole. Wrap it up in a burrito; eat it with chips – yummy! The next day I added more mushrooms to the meat, steamed some broccoli and made my mashed potatoes with pepper jack cheese. I had my usual afternoon snack, but was fully satiated from that lunch.

To Be Continued…..

2:06 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Diary of a Mad Black Woman Who Aint so Mad Anymore

"Diary of a Mad Black Woman Who Aint so Mad Anymore"

I don't know why I hate on the Oprahs, Condolezzas and even the Gayles who ride their coattails. They're making moves, doing what they gotta do to get ahead. Behind every Black man is a strong Black woman. But why we gotta be behind? He could be by my side or behind me. Look at Stedman. I don't even know if Condi got a man. But she's helping to run this country. Got a white man taking advice from her. Traveling to countries I can't even pronounce and making bank doing it. Oprah taking her money and putting on Broadway shows and giving gifts to her talk show audience. She even built a school in South Africa so other strong, intelligent Black women can come up. It is only one school, but its something. That money could've built 20 schools in other sub-Saharan nations, but like I said, she doing her part. And we can say that a Black woman is helping Blacks. Instead of taking that handout from white people, we doing it ourselves now.

We been too angry, carrying around all this bitterness. We mad at white people for slavery. Then we get mad at them for affirmative action. I don't want a mule. I'll take college admission, or a job. We mad when our brothers date the pointy-nosed heifers and then we mad at them when they with us. Also beating him in the head about how he ain't no good, how he a dog, how he ain't even a man. Then of course, I'm ready to cut a nigga when he cheat on me and then I lay with him the next night. I could be real trifling and lay with some cat I know gotta woman. It aint my fault my man cheated. He just can't handle all of this. I got curves for days. Some doctor and the media trying to tell me I'm obese. I'm soft got curves, got a little belly, I'm a woman, how I 'posed to look? I know those brothers out there weren't raised to like no stick figures. So what's up with that? Niggas used to worship my ghetto booty now they going after those straight ass Asians.

But who I'm getting mad at? I really gotta stop blaming every one else for my problems. When things don't go my way, I'm quick to blame someone. I guess I could stop eating all the Kennedy Fried and try a salad sometimes. I be waiting in the train station for the elevator when I could just walk up the steps with everybody else and maybe even get to work on time. Its just that I can't stand being at work but there's no where for me to go. I need to get my black-ass back in school then I could get rid of EBT for a real credit card. I think that's the kinda girl niggas be wanting. A girl who got her shit together. But what kinda nigga I want? Can't make up my mind between the corporate bougie brotha or nigga from the hood. I cant front I be feeling sorry for them sometimes cause they cant win. When we got a good man we clown him talking 'bout how he aint black enough or he got too much education. Too much education? Maybe with too much education we could start owning more of our own businesses, making our own money, raising our own damn kids. Why being smart and talking right mean you being white? We gotta change that. We could eat fruits and vegetables and organic shit too. Shit, we might even stop killing each other and run this country one day….

1:53 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Stick Around
Category: Writing and Poetry

I love you

and not waiting for you to say it back

you didnt run away

that's all I needed to hear

it took 2 months

5 days

to see you again

I apologize for staring

you're beautiful

your scent makes me dance

right onto your mahood

let's go inside

1:08 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Conception
Category: Writing and Poetry

Conception

panting

grunting

moaning

we went at it like beasts

trying to beat each other into sexual submission

as if to ask whatchu say bout my mama?

this is gonna hurt in the morning

sheets damp and stained with our explosion

but we put the pieces back together

like a puzzle

you fit inside me

a game we'll play again on Saturday afternoon

electrifying

though the power's out

don't stop

no

don't stop till we make our own Sunday afternoon movie

I inhale your exhale

and you inject me

fill me with your seed

so deep

the power's within me now to birth a creation that will always remind me of you

8:37 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment