Five Hundred Words

If I had five hundred words before I die,

I would tell you how I feel as concisely while maintaining the raw essence of my aspirations

I would reach out to as many people as I can, with a hundred “Hello’s” to brighten the day of those who thought this day would be the last of their existence

Or one “Hello” over a loud speaker so that a hundred people can hear it….efficiency

If I had five hundred words left,

I would finally cash out the bottle that contained all of the pennies that have accumulated for your thoughts

While searching for the constant others that I tossed into all those wishing wells as the wish of you becoming mine finally became a reality…

In order to deposit them into the savings account of my heart in order to accrue more of your interest

I wouldn’t speak the whole five hundred words, but rather act them out keeping in mind that

If a picture is worth a thousand words, I would use these 500 to create so many pictures that I would create the Sistine Chapel to show off to the world that you are picture perfect

No filter…

I know that if I speak with the notion of 500 words left, those that matter would ask for an explanation thus utilizing 37 extra words and yes I have counted. So I would hope they can figure out the prose of realization just by looking into the whites of my eyes…while I remain speechless

With these five hundred words

I would only need 3 to tell those I care about how I feel,

While only using 2 for those who gave me these wounds while trying to escape the barrel of life

And using the majority to give a voice to those that cannot muster up the courage to say what is on their mind.

Most importantly I know that if I were to spend my last words on earth with anyone, it would be you

Limitless Thoughts, Limited Colloquies

Wishing that I had more to say, but knowing that our hearts are so intertwined that you identify what I am to say before its utterance

And while the words I have left hastily deplete, know that if I was ever speechless in the time that I was here, just know that it wasn’t because I didn’t have words to say

But rather because the thoughts that I had for you became my ghostwriter, allowing the words that I wanted to say to resonate off of my spirit with such magnitude that you can feel it miles away

And know that those five more minutes we could’ve spent on the phone wasn’t because I was tired, but because I wanted to see you in my dreams so badly, that I couldn’t wait to go to sleep

I hope that I gave you enough pieces of me, so that when it is all said and done I can say that I…

She

She

She…
Is a beautiful black woman who knows what she wants out of life
A beautiful head upon positive shoulders
A sister, friend, aunt and inevitably…a wife
That is what she is

She…
Is constantly physically and even metaphorically portrayed as a,
Scantily clad façade of pride who is only appreciated more, when she takes off less
When approached my men, she knows they are thinking about how she looks under that dress
Because of her coke bottle figure and her perky breasts
Under constant duress because the media made her this way
Made her to feel as if she isn’t a person, but an object
Because of porn videos, music videos and reality TV.
And to her dismay whatever reputation she has established,
Would demolish at the mere sound of “bands would make her dance"

She…
Is constantly reminded that she is not beautiful
Because every ad, tv show, movie, and magazine portrays what society considers beauty
Lighter skin, thin frame, straight hair
Thus taking away from the true denotation of the word
Sex sells and those with a nice body, make the most commission
So it is her mission to get like those women on TV

…But it isn’t what she….looks like

So she starts dieting by throwing up what she consumes,
and working out 6 hours a day to the point where the sweat protruding from her body starts to fume and she struggles within the 5^th and 6^th hour but she feels she must burn the calories from the stick of gum she had for lunch..
but don’t worry it was spearmint so it was 20 calories instead of 15…
Straightening those natural curls, her identity weakening with every stroke of the hot comb
Wearing make- up that will make her chocolate skin infused with a bit of caramel and changing her wardrobe,
because of what the media has etched into her head…
Wearing lip gloss, concealer and eye liner to bed, not only so she can feel better about herself, but because she feels she will look good in the morning


She isn’t she….anymore. But has taken the identity and persona of “them”


She…
Is now a mere shadow of what she used to be
She… has allowed herself to fall victim to the “Barbie”, Top Model and “Maybe it’s Maybelline” America
She...would now rather listen and pay more attention to Nicki Minaj, than Nikki Giovanni
Now a pawn in life’s game of chess, being allowed to only move to protect the king of the media,
taking misdirection from the knights of peer pressure
but not realizing that she was ALREADY a queen
Now that she…has now taken on a new identity to conform to the “formalities” that the media has deemed “beautiful”
Although she still doesn’t love herself because this new identity isn’t the beauty her mom used to possess

Now when she looks in the mirror, what looks back isn’t the same person
But in fact a façade of a woman who got caught up..
She…has forgotten where she has come from
And although her parents brought her up right…even she….couldn’t escape..

Throwback Thursday: Niggas Ain't Shit - A Males Response

You are always telling your girlfriends this nonsense about how "niggas aint shit"
Well... The answer to this is simple...how about you stop dating these "aint shit niggas"

But have you ever sat down and actually reflected on why you sulk and complain about how
you're about to be "on to the next one",
because the current one you have...is just like your last one
and how all of them are just like your past ones, and no one can be "just like your best one"...but your still single?

Maybe it is because you place your standards a little too high,
You want what every body else wants you to have, not seeing past the physical facades
Looking for that swan... but your the ugly duckling
Not by physical beauty, but by mental grace
And its a disgrace how you put every dude in the same category, chastise them but yet you maintain the same criteria as you are looking in the same damn place,
when in reality the one that can and will treat you right and yearns for your embrace...
.is actually right in front of your face but you are so blinded that your tunnel vision sees past the friend zone
into the eyes of those that dont want to talk but wants to take you to the crib to bone, leaving you confused the next morning as you leave their home

Or maybe it is because there may be something about YOU that make dudes want to not deal with you for too long.
Its funny how you always play the victim, while spitting the same symptoms of how you became single, but not once have you said what you did.
We're not calling you liars, but we just find it funny how EVERYTIME you're pronounced single its because of what he did, and not what you did, or didn't do.
Or you cannot click with a dude on a philosophical level, not questioning your intelligence but if we mention something of substance as you mention Bad Girls Club, Steve J and all that shit thats irrelevant, no matter how bad you look its a turn off..which leads to us tolerating you for a few then getting turned off.

Or maybe its because you let your last relationship dictate your next.
How you won't take a chance because "you heard it all before" or a situation reminds you of your past vex
Like your guy liking a fb status, a retweet or even an 8pm text.
So you put up a shield and EVERY dude that approaches you, you start to let him get close,
but then you push them away, and remain unsure because you feel a snake strikes best
when ones guard is down.

Well sweetheart you never know what's in store until you take your hand off the e-brake and put yourself in cruise control,
but your still so mystified and misty eyed because your real eyes couldn't realize those real lies and you are STILL recovering from the hurt he placed on you
that we can never win.

Of course we know that you have been
hurt in the past,
But that does not mean you can put us on blast by establishing your opinion too fast,
because you feel that ALL men must suffer because of what a FEW men have done to you.
Because I REFUSE to pay for his mistakes.
And you letting your past affect your futures fate,
While the one that you are destined for will have to wait to partake
because your so busy looking for "Mr. Right, and not "Mr. Right Now",
which explains how your single, not because you choose to be,
but because you WANT to be because if you cannot find tranquility within yourself,
it is useless to seek it elsewhere.

So yea, you keep believing that "niggas aint shit"
All this attitude is going to do
Is turn the good ones away from you.
You do realize that the more you say these 3 words, we take 3 steps back,because we refuse to be attacked for trying to defend ourselves for something that we didn't do
When with all due respect, it might not be these "aint shit niggas" that is keeping you single
the problem might actually be....you

WheelChair Recess

Under grinded flakes of clouds
gather echoes of children
who sprinkle benign laughter to ears
He sits..
Quietly on hooves of steel
bond by flaps of leather
and slightly frayed Reebok Classics
Toes tight, tense to
the usual sights and sounds
of rigorous running of children
An invasion of intoxicating
excitement bellows beckoning
like balloons ready to burst in the heavens
He awaits stout in
strapped stagnancy to
the leather plated backrest
for a push to join in the joyous
occasion of recess
Twines of his hair
tangle in the subliminal breeze...

The hairless girl
cornered with him
weaves her cancered
fingers regrouping
his thick locks
Each takes the gift
of normalcy
to the future
for one day it will
be theirs
Hands gripped they
belong,
if only to each other
Within these tedious seasons
they wait for a cloudless sun
together in the magic of hope

9/11 Tribute : Satiation

September 11th, 2001 was one of the tragic days in human history. Thousands died and many others were affected. When we reflect on those events, we mourn those who risked their lives and those who were affected. We must also think about those who still struggle today due to those tragic events.....

SATIATION

Can I have some more

Can you spare a dime?

Yeah you can walk past me, and its fine

But have you ever taken the time, to look past the grime

To question the reason why I am homeless? The reasons why my satiation has yet to be filled

And why I still have the urge to beg you?

Yes, I’m human just like you, And although the clothes and stench may have you fooled 

The truth is that I was ONCE in your shoes

But do you have any idea of how it feels to have everything taken away from you?

Blessed to have a family and a job, To come home to a home cooked meal and alleviate my child’s sobs…To hear the stories of my family’s day, The 100 on the spelling test and the game winning catch at the little league game

The raise received at work, and the cries of my daughter who can’t find a date yet for the prom

I Thought life couldn’t get any better...Until that fateful day when it happened to me

On September 11th 2001 at 8:46 AM…

My family was in the wrong place at the wrong time

Near the site of the terrorist attack....They Succumbed to wounds of a collision

And no they weren’t under my provision

Because it was under my suspicion 

That once 5pm Tuesday hit….something was wrong

I found out my family was gone………and I lost it

I LOST IT ALL!!!!My family, my life…..my mind…..everything

So I went ballistic, because my mental logistic could not comprehend how realistic this situation was

After my release from the asylum, my lease was up, my job was too….and my belongings belonged to someone else….

So I began bathing in a nearby pond, Eating food at places that I wasn’t too fond

 And trying to receive clothes from nearby charity bonds

And seeing people slowly abscond Just to remain afloat

But see, when you have nothing in your possession

And no support to lean on, The possibilities of a second chance is remote 

So, Mr. Gates, can YOU spare a quarter, although you have trillions

And can You Mr. Athlete help out a fan, although you have millions……I THOUGHT SO

Ostracized by society because I didn’t meet the societal norm....And I truly have seen how my education didn’t mean SHIT…if you can’t walk in an interview without a pressed suit.

 I really thought things would get betterSave for my only possessions…..$10.00, a Metrocard, a pair of jeans a blue jacket and this sweater

So….once again…have you thought about how I’m feeling right now

How I am surviving, how I maintain, how I’m just getting by

This dollar has meant more to me than ever before

And IM TIRED of being turned around by closed doors

 Running from place to place for warmth in the winter

If you were me, you would never take anything for granted...Because although the life that you live may be enchanted, Even Cinderella’s coach turned back into a pumpkin

No I’m not like this because I’m lazy, Nor do I say all of this because I’m crazy

But because my future seems hazy….In these streets, taking it day by day.

No one to help me and falling asleep to the rattling sounds of the change that is in my cup, symbolizing my hope for a change in my life as I realize that I have nowhere to go but up

But…..until that times comes, Where God can see my full potential, and I can live just fine….

Can I get some more?......Can you spare a dime?

An Oceans Denotation

As I

Stare into the ocean adrift, my mind gets set a drift ,

And this mental shift causes me to think

Contemplating how to link the ocean in correlation with the idiosyncrasies of this life of mine

Though benign and sublime, the ocean possesses a regality and mystique that

Seems to mystify me while demystifying all of the harsh realities that are left once paradise has its shift in paradigm

Whereas my normal life is in a hurry I can set my eyes on the ocean with no worries as the sands of the hourglass remain in still life to my instilled life realizing that this is still….life

Observing the waves and its inference to life’s parabolic instances that gives you a harsh reminder that what comes up, must come down

What obstacles you will face eventually will turn itself around…because life has its way of working itself out

Remaining weary that all waves vary in magnitude

Its longitude intertwining with your latitude will continue to steer life’s compass that encompasses the very essence of your attitude and your ability to stay afloat

It also allows you to ponder that as each wave hits, whether you need a life jacket, flippers or a boat, or if you just wish to drift ashore into an island of mental dexterity whose coordinates are remote

And as the ocean of life continues to wash fragments of yesteryear ashore

Some remain with you through each wave, while others descend on to dry barren land, leaving its legacy to the vile abiotic ecosystem of your life,

Like seashells being found along a coast

Some, maybe most, although small have secreted enough mental carbonate

That what is left is just the utter façade of their former self

Symbolizing how the relationship itself came about

Beginning a journey untrusted and over time slowly chipping away at is shell until it finally came off as they enter the ocean of your life

And while some have grown and have continued its rise through lifes figurative food chain some have forgotten you while not being forgotten

Leaving its shell as a constant reminder of their legacy and that

Any and all interactions are learning and enriching experiences, whose lessons will forever remain even as the tide comes in. 

Jim Crows Inmate

Inmate,
Another nameless, faceless criminal taken off the streets
within the skip of a hearts beat
Another shameless, brainless hazard to society
Locked up behind bars, for no less than 25 years
To protect the "righteous" members of this community
To keep him away from us in accordance to the government’s strategy

Inmate, another man walking through the halls of this prison complexity
Another violent offender, another one resisting arrest
Another one refusing to surrender, another plea of innocence
Obviously a lie, no matter how hard he fights and insists
Another one chasing his aspirations, chasing the American dream
Another street corner celebrity with mad street credibility because of a family history of inherited criminality

Inmate, another one sharing a space of four walls with no windows
Dividing the crowded space, forced to live with men he can't stand because there isn’t room for them and his thoughts but
He's gotten used to the noise, the struggle, the violence, the putrid smell...of fear...and uncertainty
He has used his voice, tried to reach out and can't stand this living hell, that has no purgatory
The courts don't care, the warden don't care, the CO's couldn't care less
He is on his own, living to eat and for the civility of other men
His life has become one mess which was once promising and blessed, now he would do ANYTHING to see his family again
And to think that all of this happened because of a friend
Which didnt make sense Until that one day he tried to make a quick buck one night because this thing that we call minimum wage which means that if America could pay less they would…wasn’t cutting it

Inmate, you can see through it and reach through it but you can't walk out that threshold
You can't use the phone, only one plate at lunch, there's never room for 'I want more' or 'my food is too cold'
In the belly of the beast the dragon pleas to be unleashed
To be released into the crease this paradise of demons, so he can enjoy a century of war.
However the police that wrongfully accused him, are still out there probably smiling underneath, because they are the real thieves by stealing a life while not accepting defeat..

Inmate, another young black man working on these concrete cotton fields for free
Another American chain gang shackle, another victim of modern day slavery
Another young black king convicted for the darkness of his skin
For the poorness of his wealth, for his mental health, for the prejudice about his kin

Into this new era of Jim Crow,
Where even when he does becomes free, will still remained shackled by the system
Can’t find a job, can’t vote, can’t live his life the way he wishes to live it
A member of this new social undercaste that makes an untouchable seem more of a citizen the moment he checks the box that asks if he has a criminal record on an application
Surprisingly less than three fifths of a man..
Which makes one question how can one make ends meet when the only occupation that will accept him…are the streets
So all that's left to do to make due is to do the same thing that got him there in the first place
Once again he will be a paper chaser, who will be fighting to stay alive to fulfill the dream he sought before he caught this case
Rent is too expensive, his child needs new clothes and no money is coming in
So he will try his luck in gambling and hustling, becoming a prison style money maker…again…
A beast among the animals in this struggle for life, doing his own time on these acres of hell that we call… America
Land of the free….unless you used to be locked up
Free…but the scars from the handcuffs will forever remain existent and the figurative noose marks from the system that tried to bury him, will still glare red on his neck
What once was love is not the past, hatred feeds the hater and his lost soul dwells steadfast
Until…he is back into the same purgatory that consumed him previously
And this vicious cycle of inmates leaving prison only to go back because they are not accepted into society…will continue…and although these members of society have names they will forever be known as…inmate

My Bleeding Pen

My pen only bleeds what I see in real life..

As I plant and plow the nucleus of uniqueness into each bit of prose

in order to make it satiate the needs of my convictions

In addition to enabling others to heed my recognition as

they read in wonderment and suspicion about which alter ego I choose to portray

Day to day I make an attempt of not trying to attempt to please others with my passion, emotion and dismay.

But trying to be myself but conceal aspects of myself that allows others to be themselves

Not in efforts to teach but so others can absorb the blood oozing from my pen like a leech

You see, this pen retains all the feelings that I possess...

The spilling of the ink symbolizing my distress and

The evenflow of my thoughts,

even flows even through the mental bloodclots

becoming more strengthened with every I dotted and t crossed.

As each idea that is tossed in my head eventually blemishes the tablet as I scribe

as if I am in a trance...

As my pen bleeds, it leaves figurative stains that become so embedded that

No matter how many times I attempt to wash it out,

it will forever exist

In the midst of trying to clean up my life of the dust settling within the mist

Each stain symbolizing each aspect of life that makes me who I am today

All vividly created within my literal and metaphoric tablets that has both undergone a metrical composition of a blood transfusion to prevent a comatose,

Which has become so versified that all blood types seem to be a match

but I cease to allow more to flow to prevent an overdose

So as my pen bleeds I constantly need a mental IV in order to remain balanced

as I continue to quench these paean thoughts.

Aspirations start to become an actuality as life imitates art

Even if only for a moment as I place myself into the mindset of what minds desires or hope that would transpire as to inspire what is next

And as my pen continues to bleed,

only my pen can dissect the enigma that is my thoughts as to eloquently bisect the intertwining of my minds wants and needs so I never know what to expect.

Poetry is....ME....and my pen…is my lifeline

As my pen bleeds...what I see...in life

Are you a girl...or a grown woman

Are You a girl….or a grown woman??
Contrary to popular belief many women out there claim they are grown while
possessing none of the qualities shown, but that in fact of a girl...

Girls leave their schedule wide-open and wait for a guy to call and make plans.
Grown women make their own plans and nicely tell the guy to get in where he fits

Girls want to control the man in their life.
Grown women know that if he is truly hers, he doesn't need controlling.

Girls check you for not calling them.
Grown women are too busy to realize you hadn't.

Girls are afraid to be alone.
Grown women revel in it-using it as a time for personal growth.

Girls ignore the good guys.
Grown women ignore the bad guys.

Girls make you come home.
Grown women make you want to come home.

Girls worry about not being pretty and/or good enough for their man.
Grown women know that they are pretty and/or good enough for any man.

Girls try to monopolize all their man's time ( I.e., don't want him hanging with his friends).
Grown women realize that a lil' bit of space makes the 'together time' even more special-and goes to kick it with her own friends!

Girls think a guy crying is weak. Grown women offer their shoulder and a tissue.
Girls want to be spoiled and 'tell' their man so.

Grown women 'show' him and make him comfortable enough to reciprocate without fear of losing his 'manhood'.
Girls get hurt by one man and make all men pay for it.

Grown women know that that was just one man. Girls fall in love and chase aimlessly after the object of their affection, ignoring all 'signs'.
Grown women know that sometimes the one you love, don't always love you back-and move on, without bitterness.

Which one are you?

The Sexual Encounter

…She knows that she is looking good
And as she walks past me I slowly approach her.
Removing her clothes already with my eyes and planning my next move
As if it were already prearranged.
Because I don't think that she is ready for the calisthenic activity
in which we are about to engage.
So...we meet in the center like two warriors ready for battle
And I whisper in your ear,
Sweet things that make you weak,
those pleasurable nothings that makes you lick your lips while you don't speak about the future climax that you seek.
So our lips introduce themselves to one another, in such a way that
causes serene bliss while,
Thoughts of the best case formulate because we both do not know what to expect.
So I make the first move and,
Guide my lips and tongue to that spot on your neck
That aligns your earth and makes the rivers begin to flow
Creating that “we are not in Kansas anymore”, type of show and
Creates that happiness of the first winters snow and
You finally realize that all systems are go….
So you remove your dress, and as I
Look at the body in which you have blessed with and
My eyes seem to be transfixed and obsessed with your every move and
The bequest that I request that we suggest becomes more vibrant and
I confess that I would detest anything that would hinder this moment
So as we reach the rated r version of this diversion, my tongue and lips yearn to finish its excursion
So it travels further down your body,
My hands roam freely like the autumn leaves in the calm wind and
Down to your breasts, giving each sibling ample time so it,
Doesn’t feel as if one is neglected and so that both can pass a appropriate inspection while you just lay there, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
And my tongue begins to further its voyage, down to your waist as your panties start to shed
And I realize that now my manhood starts to ascend while
Your body starts to comprehend this feeling.
I decide to take a sample from your spring, while my tongue discovers every labia and
While it is the best thing I’ve ever tasted I can hear her whispering, telling me to enter,
So my manhood becomes intertwined with her womanhood and
The room spins as we become taken aback from this feeling so much that even the walls begin to sweat as they should
We don’t need any music because the sound of our breathing and her moaning create enough ambience as it would.
And as I go faster and faster, she asks for me to go deeper.
The temperature starts to rise as though
The tempo slowly reaches the rhythm of a crescendo
And we both know it as the veins in my neck and the whites of her eyes start to show
As we switch positions, you begin to hastily moan as I realize that I have found that spot and
The muscles in my leg are telling me to stop but I am going tocontinue to go until I feel your thighs…..lock….
So as I am making her bed and her world rock and
As we experience the fictional shell shock, our
bodies are playing in tune to similar harmonies
As we play cadences of our African American history
We both realize that this moment was at moment in the making, thus solving
The secrets to her mystery as she is passionately kisses me
And as if it were synchronized in a flash in time I feel her climax as I culminate and release while
She squeezes the mattress crease, screams in the pillow andclenches her teeth
And at that point of time we wanted time to bring to a standstill as I am laying beneath
And so we lay…Her chest stuck to mine as
We gaze into each other’s eyes as we realize that what had occurred was something more than sex
And with every reflex… we reflect as
The moon of dusk has now becomes dawn as the sweat is pouring off of our backs as I realize that
Love is a matter of chemistry, but sex is a matter of physics
In which polar opposite charges attract.

Me...In so many words

I am ...
A man
With a heavy heart, bathed in obscurity
Somewhere in an empty room ...
With eyes not quite of autumn's gold, and yet
Neither all of winters grey;

I wonder ...
If love is a fable made for children
A enchantment of sweet dreams in their innocence
A honey-coating to help their throats
Choke down the bitter drought ...

I hear ...
A voice that whispers warnings, half-spoken,
Bodiless as hope, until I swear I cannot draw
Another breath unless this ghastly figure be unmasked,
The lies mangled beneath my righteous tread;

I see ...
A man, proud, God fearing, uncompromising,
As sheer as air - less, even, than the tears
That fall in desolation about his weary feet,
Salt poison pooled upon the withered ground ...

I want ...
A measure of quietude, a certain silence,
The echo of loneliness which heals me of dreaming,
The nothing that stills the wanting,
The numb, the cold that chuckles at pain;
I am
A man,
hidden ...

I pretend ...
That I can live forever,
That Time
Has no power but that which I afford Him
And so, I can wait, I can be happy tomorrow,
Sleep is for the dead; but its ghosts haunt my waking ...

I feel ...
Too much, yet too deeply to be without direction,
Too real for imagining, and yet the familiar eyes
Hold nothing of recognition, only my reflection
A meeting of shadows in sunlit glass;

I touch ...
The downy wings of hope, in wonder,
In reverence, in need, in hunger;
Alas, it burns my fingers as a flame,
A sacrilege, self-defined ...

I worry ...
That I am alone; that in my longing
I have forsaken all, but what a reward,
What smile divine should light the path to freedom
And how can I but heed the siren's call?

I'm tired ...
For doing too much, without worrying about myself, for fear of bursting,
And then, when by the pouring of my soul
I lie, a vessel emptied, I think deeply again
Of when people would worry about me
For what was had, and lost;
I am
A man,
empty ...

I understand
That life is what you make it,
That sometimes, the facade of many colors
That marks your triumphs brightly, blends only
To the loneliest of grey ...

I say
That we are made by life, shaped,
Broken, perhaps unmade and voided
But always, the core of us remains, waiting
With only faith, with trust, to be reborn;

I dream
Of bluest waters, reaching
With unnatural hands toward the faded sky,
Of dolphins that wander in seas without limits,
Carrying me water-breathing past corals and clouds ...

I try ...
To lead by example, knowing
That merely the telling holds no power;
A gift of giving has the power of a day, while
A gift of knowledge has the lifespan of forever;

I hope ...
That my darkness embraces you gently,
That pain is halved by sharing, that feeling
Wields nothing past the words it summons,
Except that it touch you with only healing ...
I am...what I can only be...ME

In her eyes

I look into her eyes...but I see nothing there but pools of withdrawal, remorse, and sorrow
In her eyes, she's been hurt by people who she thought she could trust, and she thought it was a must to confide in, and in her heart they would reside in...but was here today, gone tomorrow

In her eyes, she thought those same people would remain in her life.
However, these eyes are the same ones that peeved her, were the same ones that listened and received her, but didn't even trust and believe her
Telling her that they would be here to retrieve her.... but all they did was deceive her. 

Over time, these eyes of hers tended to see fantasy rather than reality, full of empty promises.
They tend to feel what they want to feel. 
Tend to know what they want to know, but not what SHE wanted to know....and created an eerie pall of sorrow

Why can't these eyes see what is truly there?
Through this crystal stair, they can see those flaws in the surface.
Why can't these eyes finally believe that the people who 
Hurt her are the people who are waiting, and hoping and praying to see her fall?
And through it all, will not be there to pick her up.
Why are her eyes full of salty tears as she is given a constant reminder of the pain?

However, these eyes are learning something new.
These eyes are noticing the only few people in her life worth having, and embracing them
The few people in her life that won't make her eyes shed tears of sadness
But a tear of happiness

For these are the people which she can clearly see that will be there for her.
In her eyes, she knows that these people that she trusts will not hurt her and look out for her best interests...being the wind beneath her wings, as she slowly ascends toward the sun in cloudy skies.
And In her eyes, she knows who will last........ forever.

Americas Nightmare

Americas Nightmare

You See…I am a member of an elite group…

Even though it constitutes within the 99% percent of those with the 1% of the wealth it

Contains 100% of the ambition and potential that exists within our society that

Still silently sees us as 60% of a human being but constitutes 75% of the money spent per day

While our men populate 60% of those in prison, but only 15% actually deserve to be there while being profiled 85% percent of time…but hey…you do the math

This group

Which Continues to live the dream that King laid for us while,

Remaining awake through a great revolution and

Keeping in mind the notion of the ballot AND the bullet while also

Surviving the nightmare that seems to never escape us day by day

Dreams of success and happiness continue to formulate within our minds as we

Take baby steps in hopes of reaching the promise land

Constantly and consistently fighting to not be a statistic while

Remaining simplistic and artistically linguistic

Being somewhat materialistic but never seeking unrealistic needs while being opportunistic and

Taking heed to the system that is not designed for us

And taking the road less traveled which ironically is a road aligned for us

We are known as the Invisible Women and Men

The Ralph Ellison’s of the world

Hidden from the masses because the media and the government only focuses on things that demean our race by making those the headlines while the things that matter most, which would allow us to maintain our pride and boast….are swept under the rug

It’s a disgrace that in the light of positivity, negativity seems to overshadow it

However the reasons that we are constantly overlooked is because we have the power to singlehandedly take this world by storm, and the government cannot STAND it

So they have PLANNED it by planting it, drugs, liquor and guns, as a way to attack EACH OTHER

As way to keep EACH OTHER from uplifting EACH OTHER

However recently we have seen past the mystification

Day by Day teaching one so that each one can be the future leaders that we have become

While the government fights to increases those numbers of us imprisoned because

What is currently happening with our race is not what they envisioned

So they arrest us for petty crimes to break down our pride

Like for hopping a bus or a broken tail light

While those that possess the wealth are ones who are the real criminals…..but I digress…

This group…the Invisible Women and Men

Are Indivisible, and becoming the new Nat Turners and Booker T Washingtons…the new talented tenth

Becoming more involved by social change while possessing knowledge of how the world was and is

Successful in every regard with our fist silently in the air….Excellence while showing society that old habits die young

Obtaining power by the use of our knowledge and character…Not in our wealth

Instead of being granted our 40 acres…we are earning it

We are slowly showing the world that we refuse to lie down and be attacked

Because you see this group that I belong to….that we belong to are our dreams….but Americas Nightmare…..Young….Gifted…..and Black

Eye of Seduction

We lock eyes….and she seduces me

As I look into her eyes
all that seems important is trivial now.

there is no deadline to meet, no meeting to run to, no project to think of.

Because Her eyes are where the skies meet the sea
The sudden subtle change from the lighter
Shade that, though bent, can go on forever
To the partition of inflected darkness
Hiding secrets the world wouldn’t care about anyway
But I do…
Then there are the specks of gold
The sun reaching down to graze the surface with unbelievable tenderness
Seeming to drive deep, still seeming to float
On the Surface, yet welling up from within
Some silhouette of her amazing light
And I’m blinded…

Because she seduced me….with just her eyes

I Want to Have an Affair

So...I want to have an affair
Yea, we preach against infidelity,
But its my curiosities and your insecurities that make it more intriguing. 
I guess that 20 percent, although small, has had a high magnitude and as
You leave for work and as usual we argue, my phone starts furiously ringing. 
I guess the feelings have overcome you as well. 

Weeks and weeks of just "talking"
Stating the obvious with no action.
Talking a good game, but with no training to adequately back it up...until a knock on my door

So...you come over..
In just a trench coat and some red heels
Just like page 37 in that Zane novel, my fantasies become more vivid.

So..we go to the room and
As you remove your trench coat I realize your wardrobe, mmm,mmm,mmm vickis secret, my favorite brand. 
And you take my hand and begin to kiss my neck
The tensions begin to rise because we both know what to expect...and so does my manhood.

So, as we remove each article of clothing, our hands message each others bodys, no need for baby oil because our bodies are covered in each others lust. 
I'm feeling young again, because since all she is doing is working, I need to erase this ring rust...its a must

And I begin to think about how, this won't complicate things, because after all of this, it is still considered a fling, so my goal is to make her moan and have her soul scream..in a harmonious melody. 

Her body begins to yearn for me as foreplay is not longer enough
We begin the next phase, I lay her on the bed and although silent I gaze into her eyes, and realize that..she wants it rough.

So, yea...I'm having an affair, and it feels goooood. I guess if she wouldve pleased me as she should this scenario would be a "would of" instead of a "might of or could of" but...let's return to our regularly scheduled program

You begin to dig your nails in my back as I go deeper, switching rhythms like a metronome that's unsure of the tempo and as we begin to climax...the sound of keys in the door begin to become more audible.

O shit! She's home...how the hell am I going to find an excuse that is plausible in such a way that I remain credible...images of me saying, "Yea I never seen her a day in my life" or "these earrings are yours " begin to formulate as she is hastily trying to find an exit. 

Realizing that there is no way out, my soldier still stout as we begin thinking about, how the hell you are going to get out. And as I find a turtle neck to make the scratches and hickeys obscure, I begin to hear her mouth. "Baby, you still here?"
Now my nervousness becomes fear as her footsteps begin to make its way to the room, and I realize that soon 1+1 =3 will not seem like the right math.

"I'm glad you found your way over, now we can start"...as she kisses her...my mouth agape, I realize that maybe she had the last laugh....or did she...you decide.