no longer held captive

As long as I can remember,
words
have been my escape
together
we erase the daily grind
riding the stroke of pen and pencil
until
disappearing within the lines of parched linen paper
only to rise
and nourish the people with splashes of ink and charcoal
I hold my fingers up to the sunrise and watch as
imprisoned emotions seep from my skin
words
no longer held captive

Conversation with a Friend Part III - Forget to Breathe

beyond silence
dim lights
surround sound
midnight motions=
calling grooves
his name
her lips move
curves the tongue
spins
round and round
city streets
crowded faces
places
double doors
fire's view
her eye
spots
you
calling grooves

She
speaks of wind swept dreams
unkempt memories
in places serene
waves wash over beaches
in the space
between sand,
emotion is granted
a final resting-place
giving time and reason
to share this
kiss
until
heavenly emotion
create
songs of devotion
hark from clouds above
and
sun shines down
the warmth that
love is truly made of

when the mind plays tunes
that move and groove
red fruit glass *
apples melons cherries
now=empty stash
keep winding motionless
time
on a one way mind
clock stops 2
a.m.
she longs for you*

hours and seconds
melt into
days; weeks
wet cheeks
from tears in time
now defined
by ghosts of you
skeleton
keys; jingle
rusty love songs
of why I kept you
so close
close enough to hurt
even in absence
of essence
still effecting my
five senses
we
were a blessing
but now
exist as memories
lost in
time’s mirror
the reflection
repeating itself
over and over again
transcending
galaxies
for us to see
lasting
all of
eternity

glass house
has no windows
broken stairs
give way
the bleeding hearts
hang
joy of love
sang
shadows yet linger
divine pain
blue sky rest
blue moon text
her rhythm
empty
silenced inside
our walls
of this once
plentiful nest*

us
wrapped in
rhyme; waves of sunshine
words
mixed to beats
so divine
it's easy
to forget to
breathe....

the end of the continuum from the perception of space and flesh – an ode to an imperfect existence

once was a time that our selves were one
all of the stars held court for the highest nobility
upon our staff we held the power of the sun
then a child born unto the galaxy gave us the trinity
we looked down upon the millions of life below
and witnessed the despair and victory of human kind
even with our clairvoyance we still shared a common sorrow
pulled down into a world of inferior thoughts from unconscious minds
in awe of a world of inhibition and licentious trials
then ascended upon the Earth in heavenly form
the lustful juices of forbidden fruits drip from our smile
our skin lay bare where concealment was once the norm
time winds forward and finds your mind with him
I share the secret touch with her and many more
an inhibition of sexual deviance takes over
crisscrossing paths give the need for a body count score
human carnage piles up into mounds of undulating flesh
and then
we
are lost
selves have been halved and self exists alone
we now survive on varied concepts of reality
and our paths transverse the planes we once called home

funniest thing I have ever seen

I know this is not poetry
But I had to share it with my readers. A video I came upon...

http://view.break.com/484483 - Watch more free videos

she is

slowly; softly

she has become a part of me

with her

I decipher parables of life’s complex existence

without

a pause after every sentence

our love grows with every passing day

never taken as a weakness

she is

my friend

my confidant

my lover

my now

my future

my forever

my day

my night

my dreams

she is

..

..

my muse

Midnight Moon and the Rising Phoenix

the night presses against our skin as we rest in a midnight slumber
bodies lie contorted like marionettes
touching; bare
seemingly dropped from the heavens
landed onto the softness of pillows, sheets and down feathers
the yellow light of the moon reflects onto her curves
providing a lunar nightlight to guide lips along their evening journey
I watch as she rustles restlessly because of traveling fingers
and then…
like a phoenix she rises and spreads her wings
she takes her mount above me
body glistening as she winds her way about
searching for the love child of Eros and Venus

O-god

rapture; released through deep, primal screams
guttural sounds echo throughout the neighborhood, shattering glass e’where
the skies part and rain down upon us
...her mist and the remaining ashes combine into a sleeping potion
now resting again
her head nestled between my chest muscles & her breathing synchronized with my heartbeats

soon…

sleep

Children of the Night - Saul Williams

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…
unfolds
blank like paper is my stare
our words go missing because their existence is based on the time we share
together

together
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
together

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
together

The Last Visitor

Inhale
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
Exhale.

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
with..
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
and
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..

she had a freckle on her foot

she had a freckle on her foot
- a twinkle in her eye
dimple on her thighs
a southern sassy style
she had me at...
well you know
caramel
with just a hint of Hershey kiss
stuck with a set of raspberry covered lips
damn sister
you got it going on
we got it on
she got me...
singing in the shower
washing off sweat from another
two hour
...love
making
experience
the ‘c’ and ‘e’ repeating over and over
like a drummer’s cymbal
kick, drum, snare, kick, kick, snare
we share
rock and roll lovemaking
pulling on her hair
pulling on towels
lounging on the sofa
I move her closer
then
she notices me staring
and says...
"leave me and my freckle alone..."
from what I remember
it was a cute little thing
perfectly placed
right below her ankle bone

my words heal

the reflection of she wraps my entirety, and we hold one another for the sake of one another until our time exists no more...to settle the score she shoulders the weight of my soul on her bosom, forever nursing me back to whom I once was...
and I...
will forever surf the stars on the moonlight's tail; creating space for our love to touch...but fear not these words of absoluteness, for it is only I that truly knows the direction in which my heart grows...in the direction of forever...with just a pen and some paper

...my words

wine connoisseur

to me…
you seem to be…
poured from a fine Pinot Noir
filled to the brim with ageless beauty
sometimes
I imagine this
before I
raise the glass
and
inhale the aroma before my lips
savoring the taste
d
r
i
p
p
i
n
g
from your waist
one
kiss
at
a
time

Boy With a Coin

Good song and video
.......wanted to share..the woman dancing at the end reminds me of my mother.....
beautiful....anwar

Conference room daydreaming

when I look in your direction
I hear..
..horns and strings orchestrated by angel's harps
such lovely arrangements
of melodies exist amidst
the profile of your body
the stares of curiosity bind my eyes
to mocha skin tickled by the morning sun
boricua, dominicana?
cape Verdean maybe......
the sounds you create
take me to space where my imagination has you as my Queen placed high atop our castle
you watch from the towers while I dash the spirits of dragons and suitors
that have mistaken your beauty as an open invitation for more than flirtation
then being overtaken in the midnight hours by your aromatic powers I rise to the occasion
and receive your soft lips against mine as a reward....our mouths touch...and I am awakened
by the woman I am dreaming of....
she rests her hand on mine...
I'm blinded from the brilliant shine coming from her ring finger
damn......
Have I been asleep that long?

Arch - Angel of Love

words
spit
from attractive lips meant for Saturn’s moons
my empty vessel captures the calls from desires sister
want;need
become one with the woman that they came from
I stare and watch as
cupid shoots his bent arrows taken from invisible quivers
the sharp points
maliciously aimed towards my heart
near misses
become
cold kisses
and now I lay dead
betrayed by her love
once again

Poetic Biology

I roll
Nina Simone bones
then exhale
poetic meter
spirits of my ancestors
grow through the hairs of my beard
and show my African features
high
cheek bones
wide set eyes
built like a small powerful creature
ink applied to skin
become dog eared pages of life
left to decipher by all you HIStory teachers

Love at first site

........enter
she sits.........
beautiful African flower
with drops of autumn along her skin
short raven hair
my stares purposely
catch her attention
she glances as if to take a sniff
pauses
then purrs these words
I know guys like you
pursed lips
eyelids closing
as if to squash the last vowel in line
spirits of exes and soon to be next exes
sit firmly to her left and right
she explains that everyone has a two sided approach to life
speaks of eternal baggage
he, we and they become adage to her existence
over time
our conversation grows into a fire
burning down flammable inhibitions
then replaced by walls of unwavering persistence
soon
in so few words
she has me smitten with a zombie like affliction
my desire is to explore the inner depths of her mind
so I walk over close and place her hand in mine
within a dash of the third rail if my motives be in question
our time together
fast forwards to forever
where
I imagine us old; together still
her wizened hands
and fingers; long
gently plucking at the gray hairs on my arms
like petals on a lilly pad

tongue twisted

they said
he said, she said
now time lies dead
stabbed through the tongue
with a pen

Adultery

my love,
close your eyes and follow my voice
let me lead you to a place
- where our heartbeats
turn to footsteps along hidden paths of intimacy
moon rays bind your hips to mine
- lips touch
then destiny parts your legs
allowing me to taste from heaven’s river
grunts and groans from bare backed beasts
dragging knuckles along moist ground
release; rest
we dress
in silence
mouths
bound by secrecy and shattered commandments
our shame over taken by lust
now, the devil leaves us
and
my eternal withdrawals begin
I lose myself passing time
till I have to return you back
to your husband

Third eye turns to stone

evenings spent
deciphering hidden inscriptions scribbled inside
worn sleeve of a rose colored book
my sin sumeya children play with fire
leaving remnants of leaf and stems
discarded on scorched forest floor
a single tree remains
as lonely as the moon that searches for companionship during dawn
I offer condolences through a finger wrapped embrace
dank smoke lies imprisoned inside the walls of human organs
then released through a reversal of fortune
repeat
then pass

Hypocrite

have you ever gotten the feeling
that the person you were having a conversation with thought that they where sent from God?
like, their words to you about their own human struggle
contain messages or answers about your life
oratory measures taken; bound in an obsolete presence
listening to words from a lounge chair in outer space gives Heavenly directions from places never mentioned
the mental distance
the place where right and wrong struggle in a never ending battle
walls of trust built on common sense and reason battle with a soul dipped in treason
there must be a reason
for this change in season
or change in attitudes and moral complexes that exist as the nexus of immoral direction
listen
& understand the words of God and his Son
as they warm the spirit beyond the cold grasps of the devil’s hands
do as man has been directed to do
live and learn the great lessons in life
all it has to offer and take away
be as a ship
moored
docked for the long stay
not as the flag that lifts its head only when the wind blows
an action that the hypocrites all know

Línea negra

tattoo of
vertical life
exists along
womb
nurturing
seeds inside
beautiful skin
I show you
a drawing
from the inside
Línea negra

my Sunrise-written in 3rdIperspektiv

raven tinted luminescence
crawls across the horizon
lashes of light
open up
and kiss the velvet sky
virgin sunshine
offers herself to the indigo skyline
she leaves residue
of pomegranate along his smile
lusts pains
paint sage and purple streaks
where they once lay
orange meets bright white
as sunshine meets her peak
erupting
molten lava
life;bliss
she has risen
to seduce night
once again

D.S.T.

Tick Tock Tick
Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock Tick
my life; enveloped with emotion
almost a strung out devotion
I was a junkie
hooked on this thing called
love
inhaled
cooked
snorted
injected
I found myself floating with those from above
but that time is gone now
replaced by one that heals
while it wears my soul down
the mountain in front of recovery
seems too high
I am taking a breather now
my arms are rested on my thighs
I start to move again
running
inhale
running faster
breathe out
halfway up the hill
I am now flailing my arms about
I reach the summit at full speed
take off like a bird
flapping wings so fast
the clock can’t be heard
Tick Tock Tick
Tock
Tick Tock
Tick Tock Tick
a little bit softer now……..
I am healed

poetic suicide

I feel as though
my time here
is coming to an end
I want to leave
a final impression
for all of my friends
the jocks
the nerds
the suits
the straightedge
the hippies
the herbs
the skaters
the bikers
the gangsters
the clubbers
the hangout all niters
the multi-
national
cultural
biological
the women
the men
the preachers
the sinners
the saxophone
the violin
the drums
the bass
the turntable
the case
the lawyers
the doctors
the eyes
the face
of anyone that has crossed my path
heart left warmed by
water; life
casting long memories
no matter the sun’s height
my time on earth is over now
I can’t escape the inevitable
can’t hide or run
I am thirsty before I go
I make a drink
blue ink from a metal flask
pour; enjoy
tick; tock
time pasts
I drop to my knees
take up the pen
and squeeze
my final impression is left
all over the walls for everyone to see
poetic suicide

Something for you

to think of you
is an unwrapped gift
anticipation builds.....nervousness is replaced by a smile
no matter what the lord puts between us
luggage, cities, countless miles
I will never forget the space that you occupy
I wish that forever I could hold your hand
wipe the tears when you cry
witness all of your problems disappear
when you need to talk, give you an ear
be your everything
or anything
if you like

She loves me, she loves me not

Feel as I feel. Is that poetic?
is it possible for you to hear me through a sequence
of inaudible sounds shaped into frequencies
that bring my spirit into your world
beckoning me like the Sirens of Odysseus
intoxicating me with the allure of your spirit
just to crash my hopes and desires on the hidden beaches
and cavernous caves surrounding the entrance to your heart
once loved but now scorned; feelings
scorched like the world’s southern most desert
lips dry
parched flesh
yearning for the afternoon oasis of kisses to set your heart aflame
our love is coarse and dry like the ram’s fur of Aries
never escaping the desire to be together
but hating the time when we are