noon rendezvous

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

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

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

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
FUCK THAT

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
raw
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
shower
sleep
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
tired
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

torn

there are times

when i wanna

dissolve back into

the earth

becoming

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

darkness

rain drops falling from my eyes

i dissolve into my own earthly sadness

and can only imagine if he’s back with his girl.

undone

i won’t come undone

upon

finding condom wrappers in trashcan

i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone

upon

finding your personal ad online

i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone

upon

awakening to you on your cell in hushed tones

i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone

upon

finding the seat adjusted for someone else

i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone

upon

finding phone numbers during laundry

i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone

upon

callers hanging up when i answer

i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone

upon

deciding to leave without a word

i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone

upon

backing away from the table of unhappiness

i won’t come undone

i won’t come undone

upon

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

tell me Nikki (dedicated to Ms. Giovanni)

tell me Nikki

tell me

who is it or what is it that inspires you?

is it a baby’s cry or some love from your past

a distant bird in the sky or coltrane’s jazz

tell me Nikki

tell me

how do you find the words

the nouns

the syllables

the vowels

the verbs?

tell me

tell me Nikki

is it tricky?

damn you’re clever

cause i never seem to find the rhymes that

slant and dance causing romance

as they fall like pieces of sweet candy

from your tongue

making me wanna run

through sprinklers on summer lawns

dripping ice cream cones

and scuppernong grapes bursting in my mouth

i taste your succulent poems and i wonder how it’s done

so tell me Nikki

tell me

what’s your secret?

pullin The Wool

who’s gayer than who
who’s more fem
who’s more masculine
who’s better at fooling them

labels
turn the tables
contraception misconceptions
secret weapons

coast to coast
nobody likes burnt toast
and someday everyone will
be tired of this bullshyt

my dick is my dick
like walking in dog shyt
worried about what i do
who i do if i screw

lying on god
forwarding emails from jesus
send to ten people the
blessing will free us

delete- send to trash can
loosing faith in man
i think i can i think i can
spray on sun tan

will you share with me
what happened to sincerity
cause this shyt is scaring me
salmonella smothered broccoli

love lags behind cause no
time has been vested into
updating our spiritual curriculum
preacher be fooling em

beat the devil out that boy
before he grows into sin
god has no love for men
who sleep with men

five four three two one
edit no credit
give or take
so god be making mistakes?

it don’t matter who’s more fem
or more boy or rocking labels
money on offering  tables
into the pockets of leaders lying on god

mothers preached to not
love their gay sons is far
more pressing than which position
i’m in when getting some

another Nite Out

i’m so fucked up right now

stars twinkle my way to bliss

i wanna kiss full lips wet with gloss

sweating foreheads and thumping basses

the smell of foreign urine doesn’t keep

me from bumping in damp restrooms

i just wanna have fun

i catch his eye but he so shy

telling his friend to tell me

how handsome i am

no numbers exchanged

close tab and tip

this life is a trip

this can’t be life cause puppies

and white picket fences are not present

only white lines and common lies

drink specials and sweaty guys

i'm out

for whom the bells 'toil'

the line broke

the monkey got choked

and they all went to hell in their

little row boat

love boat

tug boat

river boat

rockin da boat

like two animals in a wilderness

of germs

tainted sperm

crawling like earth worms

on wet

damp

moist thighs

no naked eye can see

what lies beneath

u trust your gut

don't take it in the butt

but like an oral slut

slurp slurp slurp it up

breathe don't burp

go to work on that

dick or that clit

like bees collecting honey

ain't nothing sweeter than money

but ain't no dollars falling in your mouth

only dirty seaman loaded with

germs and shyt you don't want

avoiding the clinic you claim it ain't shyt

gargling with salty warm water

doctor's orders, the one without an MD

eating soup on late nights

still ain't feeling right cause

lust ain't care

living for the moment

tomorrow ain't there

when you're moaning

mama's advice and shyt from class

escapes our mind

when giving up ass

or sloppy brain it's all the same

searching for something that

can't be explained

feeling empty doing coke to numb the pain

side effect of shame

gargle with Listerine

but it's not a dream

all trees ain't green

and some people be lying when they say their clean

that shyt don't shine like bling bling

it don't often show on the dingaling

balls don't stank and niggah

was sexy in that tank

topping me no stopping me

it feels so good when he inside of me

like eating thin mints

nut well spent

though i'll never see him again

i'll forever wear his sin

embedding itself inside me

slowly but boldly

kicking me out my own

home

face soon unknown

when looking in the mirror

on public walls

bathrooms stalls don't offer privacy

you hear no sirens

for whom the bells toil

retuning to soil

drained

late nights
early mornings
i await the sun
wishing the moon would stay a little longer
cutting lines like a biscuit maker
listening to Coltrane and wondering why is happiness
avoiding me

i practice truth and celebrate God
giving my last lovingly and willingl
no reservation relative to reciprocity
but curiosity has got me wondering
if i’m suppose to love men more than i love
me