Tag Archives: Women

Acquainting The Bustle

She is the kind of girl to flash you and walk away
A tease
The kind that sit on the corner of your memory
Persistent , she won’t go away
She comes back in the weird places
Similar napkins ,she jotted her number on
The alcohol store you pass on the way home
That reminder
3 a.m. ten flights of stairs
She fell down
Bleeding in the backseat of the car
As she repeated that drunk girl mantra
I am just an ugly soul
Homicidal death threats to herself
You sit there wondering how
This beautiful flower has so many thorns
As her soul shreds you to pieces
Your only release is
That sad jazz melody
Playing over and over
Drowning out her memory
Her voice
You sink into your bed
Hug the loneliness
Yet her scent is in the air

I hung
Heart bigger than how
I’m hung,
Sniggers like nuts in snickers
Get under my skin and clutch triggers
You are all I need
Worth more than all I have
Less than perfect is the perfect I want
Yet you set your camps intents
Intense like maroon dessert sands
Your mantra is no more tantric
Than rancid Kcufing with your mind
My blood curdles like milk because I’ve been burned by the cow
Get off the steps of my memory and marry me
I’ll soak up your blood with my ivory and call it the path to never forgetting

This is a crime of passion that I’m aiding and abetting
Walk with me now, I’ll hug your loneliness
We can be the ish
Make me your only mess
Yes you are the girl who is prone to tease
But I am your cross and Yogi wont bare me

Impregnate me with your sins and I will bare them all

Pews made of cotton sheets

I genuflect

As I confess

I still need him

I need him to be more then a few faded memories

As I clutch to whiskey bottle

Screams bouncing off walls not in ecstasy

Silent hymns

More mourning then hallelujah’s

I feel the distance

More then your warmth

My walls may keep me secure

Yet the door can be opened

For the right price

How much are you willing to offer your heart back

When I already have it in my firm grasp

I am not the queen of hearts

Just good at breaking them

Yet i am also good at taking them

She said a diva is a female version of a hustler
In the worlds oldest profession who can really rustle her?
She be, on her grind, grinding, make up to wake up
How do you spell binding….P.I.M..P
Got the goods for take up.
Spread her rug for sale in minute or hourly turns
As she digs in her nails, ain’t only his pocket that burns
Make music and clap to it,
Half what he earns
How many halves make a whole girl?
Just the ones taking his sperms
She’s on her grind because a diva is a female version of a hustler

Crack for her crack because the rough stuff hurts
All she wants is a lover man not a brother from the corner
He got a nose for the cooking and only wants to put it on her
Big Black, China white, Charlie and Daddy
Bruises for excuse why she wouldn’t bareback gladly
She will happily bivouac, he just wants to beaver wack.
Till she met You yet you’re too nice to be with that
She has a history, a litany of misery, yet You ….
Want to unlock the prison and make her the captain of your mill

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Filed under Collaborations

Lady not a Woman

Subscribe to junk male, they get junk males, then junk males because they want a man with all the tools not drunk nails.
Dressed like hello kitty make it quack, give up duck tails, having a party for your pit, no more drive, ruck fails.
Mind in the box, nobody listens, hard walls. Reality’s a foreign sport, odd ball, their onboard with mogwai, bandwagon.
No man is an island but woman shouldn’t be, another, whole, enough to keep her flag in, stead of his

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Filed under Just Living

Those Eyes

I could… disappear into your eyes

Wondrous whirlpools, gates to your inner dimensions

Guarded by silk curtain lashes that soak up all those splashes of soul

I cannot disguise the desires behind my shalom

The sun sets and rises when you blink causing me to think that every day until I die

I want to behold those eyes

Bluer than the purest drops of the ocean yet the depth cannot compare

Clearer than the air I inhale your glare and your passion

Your lips plush like velvet set against satin skin causes eruptions within

If I could fight fire with fire a higher deeper love between us would win

Your soul belongs to heaven and it would not be a sin to bask within

For even though they are visible we’re more fly than spirits dovetail in more than principle

Your place in my heart is intimately municipal

Your sound is a serum that renders only the admissible vibes

Truth is five letters of which four formally decide if we abide

I will dissolve my mind and reappear behind

Those eyes

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Filed under Relationships

Bit of Black

I am not just your bit of black

I am not your chocolate chip

I am not your chunk of dairy milk

A taste of the exotic for you to come back from

I’m not your trip for a bit of long dong Winston

I’m not your few nights of all nighters

I am not your escape from being white or whatever race you claim to be

I’m not running to lose my sense of me only to pick It up when you find you

I am not your excuse to live a lie or ignore your own

I am sexy but I’m grown and I am not yours to own

I do not exist to explore the depths of your body and measure how loud I can make you moan

I am not your bit of black

I am not the dude who you cut slack like women who use their looks as their intelligence

I’m not your R&B / rap or soul fantasy

I am the reality of the hustle and the flow

I am the truth, I can be a light, I am day glow

My skin is brown and teeth are white

I stick around in stereo like music but the truth of my blues is that my plight is covert

Fighting the stereo type is my every day verse on fight the power

See you call me black but I’m not just a brother to the night

I am strength engrained in passion and pain

The paradox of endurance and actualisation scream my name

See me being your bit of black enslaves me awaiting freedom

When you release me do I go back to black?

Or do I flip you like a great record and make you my bit of day or white or Asian or light

How would you like that?

How many bits of black are trapped into being baby fathers?

How many bits of black are behind bars instead of making up the bar…as barristers and judges

Bits of black float around as caramel or fudges just to match folks fake tan

Yeah there are some bits of black you can call a waste man or a sperm donor

But then its not a black thing so check your motives and thoughts

For your bit of black may become a bitter black if he’s just a bit…of course

See this black could be big black, small black, fat, short or tall black

But I’m the whole bar and guess what I’m all black

But black is not a culture, black is not a being

If I’m reduced to a colour then what I am seeing …in you

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Filed under Race

Twitter Inspirations: She Threw The Sky

She threw the sky in his face like a javelin
Piercing his eye she saw his focus unravelling
Knowing her words would kill she knew how to scrabble him
She was on board with her game and her bull ship was travelling
He became so far from sure His logic battled him
His feelings were rattling as anger managed him
His sense of manhood strangled him and left him dangling
Over the precipice of self destruction because this woman man handled him

I was on twitter and saw the title “she threw the sky” on an update by Ladessa Sullivan otherwise known as the poet CandyAcidReign. Honestly I have never paid that much attention to her non poetic talents but the words “she threw the sky” hit me like a silver bullet and formed a poetic verse. I may have to pay more attention now…if you think that I should flesh this verse out into a bigger poem let me know

Check the original video below

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Filed under Art