Sunday, October 23, 2016

All Jokes Aside


If I hear "I play too much" ONE MORE TIME

If she speaks of me being too funny again

I'd be convinced that I should turn myself in

Only clown sighting I see is me

One of then Goofy dudes she's humored by

Residing in the green turf between the friend zone & the end zone

I no longer want to rush & I'm not running back

But we offset eachother with penalties on both sides

So midfield is where I stay

She giggles a bit & find my analogies "cute"

I roll my eyes and go back to my one man show

And what is it about airline food?

Whatsup with that?

All jokes aside though.

What is it about her?

What is up with her?

How could she find a soft spot behind a stone cold face?

Words from a monotone voice 

Suddenly generate octaves as you activate your humorous ways

Now we both laughing.

You found cracks in this statue 

Garsh. 

I'm feeling Max exposed 

I'm more of a PJ though

Under all these muscles its a relaxed chubby guy

Zoned out by the flows and the bongos

Yet she finds that extremely goofy.

All jokes aside. 





Sea Of Heartbreak (90s Flow)

I remember the days.
Back when I had faith
Times of touching & teasing
But it wasnt always that case
Used to quench my thirst
Juices running down my face
Always let you come first
No urge to win that race
If I had one wish
Back when I had faith
Coulda been happily ever after
Back when it was that case
When the tears started running
Flowing down your face
Back when you were in orbit
Shot our love out of your space
But you used to love me 
Back when I had faith
I told you once before
Back when it was that case
Couldn't draw the path straight
Wish I could have back traced
I meant backtrack
But for all that, you couldn't wait
So now, I gets no love
I don't have faith
Faded pictures in a lock box
I closed that case
Threw it in the old river of tears
Made by your face
Never to to be seen again
Sunken into the sea of heartbreak


Wednesday, October 12, 2016

These Hands

These Hands

Wanting something they cant have

Yearning for the pieces they cant get on their own

Whether its the texture or the curl patterns of the hair

The pigmentation of the skin

Every curve that defines her figure

The lips. The hips. Hell even the fingertips.

Often imitated. Never duplicated

Thieves that publicly undercut her worth 

But know she's underrated

No matter how you try to copy

Nothing will override the original

The Purity

The Authenticity

The Black Woman