Intimacy of the Mind and Pen

If I could simply state
I could never be without you
spiritually and physically you are my bridge to reality
..the voice of my soul
when you are not near, my thoughts go cold
my life…
blank like paper is my stare
our words go missing because their existence is based on the time we share

our words become children delivered in sonnets and stories, nursed on haiku's about yellow morning glories
our children describe
what it feels like inside the greatest minds of our time
our grandchildren give birth to
Spanish villas off the coast of Orion’s belt
and our great grand children talk about
alligators skating on ice that never melts

without the union of us there can be no others
after, present or before
the devil smiles with another chance to reach out and settle the score
the tales of our culture will not live without leaving the mouths of unborn kids and herded by the shepherds in the morn
our bodies covet the linen sheets that crinkle while we write
the vowels tell tales of yearning bodies that travel through the night
and on their trip the words become the story of our lives


The Last Visitor

Gospel music plays in the background.
- speak Lord, speak to me, I said speak to me -

She sits by the window, warming her tired shoulders in the setting summer sun. Her hands pick at the lint balls in the knit blanket lying across her legs. The worn edges tickle her ankles as she shifts in the recliner for comfort. The front window of the house has become her best friend. The children are grown, husband gone on so now loneliness sets in. The pane of glass displays moving images in the background of her reflection. She enjoys the movie with a new found happiness. We find her smiling with the happy times and crying with the sad times along with the characters of her personal play. Soon, the old woman realizes that she is watching her own life flash before her eyes. Those same eyes fill with emotion and release water drops down her cheek.
She is not sad but instead righteous. She yearns to be with her Father for all of eternity. Tired now, she slowly walks to the bedroom and lies on the bed fitted with crisp white sheets.
In the front room, the movie reel continues on without an audience until the final frame fades to black in the warm summer night.
The flickering sounds wake the angel of death. He is the last visitor to this old woman and comes bearing gifts, a package containing Nana's last breath


Watch your Son Rise

To my mother
grand and others
aunts, cousins, sisters
past and future lovers
I give this flower to you
In honor of your day
because without you
there would be no taure

- we live in harmony this flower and I
seed planted
watered; nurtured
plucked and pruned along the way
without your guidance or sunshine
there would be no taure
I am blessed to share your features, especially your eyes
so sit with me on the beach and witness
your SON rise


The Food 2.0

The food we feed our children with has run out and the kids are now suffering from malnutrition of positive role models. The days of our youth being influenced by the likes of Martin and Malcolm, Louis and Langston are long lost because now, they are fed bullets and drama. Babies filled with holes, souls empty, left alone to grow up in a community whose foundation is cracked itself. We look around and see thousands of young empty eyes unaware that the future for them is dim because their street lights were turned out before they even took their first breath. The sounds of baby screams keep me up at night tossing and turning, yearning to give them some lyrical food to eat. I wake from another midnight slumber to the sounds of the corner and then walk to the window and stick out my pen to test the temperature. My front stoop houses legions of street doctors from the 80's smacking babies with jums and tons of bubble gum flavored needles. Mothers surround the block looking for government cock because their mates suffer from incarcerated fates that pay for lives with currency concurrently. Just another plan to eradicate the sons of Africa. Little footprints outlined in blood cover the ground leading from the bank of the river Jordan, baptized in holy water so rich in ignorance that the stains will last forever. We flash in front of them humorous images of part time idols and now the television is responsible for more children than we are. The internet is blowing up with messages to electric gods ROTFG! Pedophiles preying on the children of absentee parents fill the empty ballots of prepubescent minds. The blinds are pulled on child molesters disguised as superstars with their freakish habits. The limbs of a countless number of children remain in trunks of the last platinum superstar. Appetites for destruction leave the parents with confusion once the deed is done. The models created end up in front of us and we are like,
"Who the fuck are you?!"
The children raise their eyes up then tilt their head and answer
"I am what I am fed."
The Food-


true story

she has a fast car..
driving around but can't get too far..
they always seem to stop at my door
bags of insecure memories and totes full of shouldered burdens,
misconceived notions handed out by male oratory legends of lore
believing themselves to be gods
showing desire to be worshiped, catered to
telling tales of what's in store for you down the road..
if you just..
cosign for this credit card right here
baby please,
these jeans would look so good on me!!!

Bitch ass dudes
kicking game like they're the she
trading places for parking lot spaces
where the...
verbal garbage is parked on my street,
on my block
too many times she has used my steps as her last stop
and for real,
I am tired son
of patching up holes
your bullshit called home for so long
The hypocrisy is...
I was once like you...
full of premeditated dishonesty, trying to get what I need
..money, herb, the pussy
till I met, she
and she put it on me.. verbally ..
smoothly stating
One day this will all come back to haunt you
what if you had a daughter,
and some dude like you was kicking it to them

like she knew I was doing her...
hmmmm, I said with a rub of my chin,
shit was deep
I felt her, honestly...
we had a daughter
and I became the father
that all you broke ass dudes don't want to meet..