Monday, October 22, 2012

sunday morning

I could blame it on the alcohol as it makes habit of emboldening the user with courage and lust
But it wasn’t that
I could say it was the intensity and passion of our meeting, our “hooking up” but I doubt it was that either
I could say it was just me being negligent, heeding your warning a little too late, after the fact, but the reddening bruises were forming prior to your saying “don’t”
As a man should, I told you, not wanting you to feel embarrassed or ashamed not knowing it would be the first and last time I held you
I kissed you
I smelled you
I tasted you
I caressed you
I surveyed your room wanting to learn you…wondering if you had read every book on your shelf…imagining myself folding and putting away your clothes..anything to see you smile
Your smile…it captures me not because you are undeniably gorgeous…but because I know only a special heart could produce such beauty
No words, no smiles…no hugs….no small convo on the way out…I left ashamed, disappointed…only praying that you would say a prayer for me…and possibly forgive me as you attempted to make your way to church early that Sunday morning

Friday, June 15, 2012

differences (061512)

it begins with a simple disagreement
two eyes not seeing the same thing
then the moment
the attitude
awkward silence

foolish pride nurtures


i leave without saying a word
no looking back

you finish your glass of
cheap wine

doors slammed loudly
mouths shut tightly
each of us thinking quietly
..."damn i just fucked up".

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

All sons need fathers

Last night I thought about the "father"
The memories
The moments
The missing face in the pictures of my dreams
Would things have been different?

Your sons need you
To wipe tears
To offer encouragement
To assist in the manifestation of dreams
Caterpillars emerging from caccoons

Your sons need

To heal he wounds that life bring
The lessons
The choices
The situations of circumstance

Your sons need

To catch balls
Or his first fall
Awaiting your arrival after
Band practice or little league
Or karate classes
Or cheerleading try outs
It don't matter
He's your son
He's you

Daddy he needs you
Daddy we need you
Father I needed you.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

do fish count?

don't make sense
when it comes to self defense

rows of bars like
parked cars
don't hold me captive

at least not mentally
or spiritually
or emotionally

i still smell the sun

my heart ain't broke
it's just sore
like being on your feet all day

if my circumstance cause one to
rethink their actions
then my time served will not be in vain

for truly the only prison that can hold
is the one created in the brain
like loose change
it's what you make it

time is a function of society
clocks don't mean shyt to me
like numbers
and words
it's all arbitrary
even scarey...when you think about it

do fish count?

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

slowly sliding

it drips like condensation on a crystal tumblr
slowly sliding along
i smile and toss my head back as far as i can
hoping to loose control
it becomes annoying at times
like having to wake for work each morning
clockwork routine dullness
like dusty hardwood floors in old country side
baptist churches
the ones that have yet to surrender control to
purple padded carpeting-
the thump from a feeling foot
does not sound the same

i want to feel what it’s like to live
loosely without regard for control
like a roaming wild stallion wandering
innately by what’s within
for a moment i think of this joy
swallowing the last of my brandy
imagining it must be like
dripping condensation on a crystal tumblr
slowly sliding along

Monday, April 2, 2012


Wednesday, January 25, 2012

noon rendezvous

the colors don’t seem to match
i’m expressing my

drops of crystals fall from my nose
cold air cools my warm face
i must moisturize my skin

lite and sweet
sittin in this café waiting for my baby.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

safe poems

i don’t wanna write safe poems
poems about whisping winds and fancy flowers
i don’t wanna write poems with nouns that rhyme at the end of each line
i don’t wanna write poems that are recited at inaugurations or graduations or celebrations
those poems are safe, sweet, guarded, nice, protected
they are created in a space and place that is hyper-real, full of folly, fancy, freedom, fun

i wanna write poems that smell like shyt,
bad pussy, or a
niggah’s dick after he has cum and not washed
i wanna write unprotected poems
poems that run the risk of infection- infecting your mind and soul
like a virus or an incurable STD
i want my poems to stay with you
sinking deep within, never letting you go, consuming you

i want my poems to be in the midst of abortions
between the legs of mothers who change their minds
the clamps the forceps
the discarded waste that was once life but now a bubbling protein mass of nothingness
innocent blood and broken eyes
a crushed skull
two hearts torn
a dream deferred

i want my poems to be unprotected
like fucking a niggah in the ass that you just met online
cummin' inside
loose booty
no name
no love
no intent to ever return
“what in the fuck did i just do?”
too late now
make a mental note: create new screen name

i wanna write the poem that’s there when you tell your mama you’re gay
the shock on her face
the void in her heart
the misunderstanding
the tears in her eyes
the lump in your throat
the final relief after years of hiding who you are
at least now she knows
and hopefully later, she will understand

sick is the poem that hovers over head while the priest in collar and robe
hard dick and old clammy hands feeling like wet fish
fondling the unripe dicks and innocent asses of 8 and 9 year old boys
fucking them up for life
raping them with images of Christ’s cum on their faces and in their minds
a vision that will be revisited in many nightmares and future court cases
to come
it must be written

i wanna taste the poem that is placed on the plate beside cold pork and beans and stale white
bread in front of the child of the woman who has worked her ass off
back hurting, legs aching,
tired, just plain
puny paycheck that's
not enough
bills to pay
shoes to buy
groceries to get, groceries like
chicken wings or a piece of sausage to go with them beans
them beans
them damn beans

i must write the poem that
breaks promises
breaks hearts
breaks wind
winds beneath broken wings
give me two wings so that i may fly
high above it all
all these broken poems and broken lives
let me carry the burden as i sorely soar above it all
disturbing the funky fucked up lives of

mothers and fathers
sons and daughters
my people
and all the people that know what it's like to live a life
without rhyme
without reason
without hope
without prose
without poetry that matters to them

poetry that
suffers or
dries tears or
soothes pain
poetry that in the late night assures a new day is coming
a new day is coming
a new day
has come

jumpin to conclusions

it was after i told him to come get
his shyt
after i asked for my key
after i snatched his clothes out of our closet
after he asked me what was wrong
after i read the text again
did i realize i made a mistake

on being a man

there is something to this
that i can’t understand
how to love someone so much
but can’t help being a man

being a man so much and
wanting to try something new
flirting and lusting after each and
every new guy that passes through

hooking up online
while he is gone
having quick discreet sessions
before he comes home

washing several times a day
to cleanse my guilt burden soul
wondering if while i am here
he is out somewhere being so bold

but what am i to do especially when
he does not always come through
on giving me every single ounce
of his time and affection

i can blame him and
he can blame me
we can blame everyone of
our friends and chalk it up as jealousy

but still there is this something
that i will never ever understand
how i love him so damn much
but still wanna whore like a common man

radical love

i knew after he came i would never see him again
the encounter
the truth
he could never face it again
or me
i would serve as nothing more than a reminder of who and what he is
the fact
the fly in his lemonade
the corn in  his shyt

but for a moment
i thought i could help him overcome by cumming
by helping to release the built up tension
by giving him a sample of what radical love felt like
by giving him me
and for a moment it worked
he was saved
 thank ya Jesus!

but as backsliders do, he fell
he could not stand to be strong
to face the consequence of being “found out”
to have to tell his boys his boy is his boy
his mama would not understand
his daddy would not care, he wasn’t there
his heart broke into a thousand pieces of innocent little black babies beneath his jersey
he dribbled out of my life
a dream deferred

years and nightmares later i would see him again
a victim of circumstance
a weak soul conquered by society’s desire to keep all little black boys straight and fucking only pussy
never in love with anyone or anything but the brutha he could not have cause mama sat in the amen corner of her church and her baby was in college and star of the basketball team
crack was my replacement
a drug that erased it all
feelings he could not deal with
the feeling of radical love


there are times
when i wanna
dissolve back into
the earth
what i once was

then the son returns
with a smile
flowers bloom
in my heart
horses run wild in my pants
and god speaks to me

rain washes
away the filth of sadness
and loneliness is no longer alone
and for a moment
there is peace in my turbulent world, damn he is so fine!

but temporary are all highs
and coming down
is like hugging porcelain pissy commodes proclaiming
to never get this drunk anymore
the sobering emptiness
awaiting a phone call
or the broken promise of a soon return

the disappointment
rain drops falling from my eyes
i dissolve into my own earthly sadness
and can only imagine if he’s back with his girl.


i won’t come undone
finding condom wrappers in trashcan
i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone
finding your personal ad online
i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone
awakening to you on your cell in hushed tones
i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone
finding the seat adjusted for someone else
i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone
finding phone numbers during laundry
i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone
callers hanging up when i answer
i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone
deciding to leave without a word
i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone
backing away from the table of unhappiness
i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone
realizing that i have had enough of this shyt
i won’t come undone
i won’t come undone

misplaced love

i am searching
between the cushions of the couch
finding nothing
i am checking your pockets
and doing laundry
i am performing
file searches on our computer
am pulling back the comforter and
searching beneath the mattress
shaking shoes
moving the furniture
i am looking behind the hanging pictures
and digging in the flower pots
emptying boxes of cereal and
rearranging the food in the cabinets
finding nothing
i am searching for the one thing that you promised me
i am searching for your love
i am finding nothing
maybe it’s in the glove compartment of your car beneath the owner’s manual, box of condoms and your “old” black book- the one you told me you threw away