Untitled Slam Poem...hot off the top of the dome

In a place where bare thighs
Lustful eyes
Are vivid in the daytime everyday social scene
Its hard to continue rockin your old crocs and jeans .

In a place where money crowns you king of the jungle,
And more than just two can do the sexual tango
Its hard to relate to the opposite sex,
Especially if your not after their sex…

In a place where faces are made up in make up
And boobs aint boobs if they cant fit into a C cup,
Its hard for a sister to be seen naked,
Or be noticed if she doesn’t look like she gonna give it up…

In a place where the poison is in plenty and sweet,
And seemingly innocent sweets are Viagra tweaked,
It’s hard to stay sober,
Or know whether you’re standing behind the boundary or if you’re already over it!

In a place where the past is hard to get past,
And old friends with strings are still attached to your Ship’s mast,
It’s hard to just let go and go with the wind,
Hard to touch someone else when you’re still wearing his ring.

In a place where small talk is common
And smooth lies are a popular side dish right after fries,
It’s hard to have a real conversation,
Because getting to know a person isn’t often the main motivation.

It’s hard to maintain your essence and stay fresh
When you’re on heavy rotation
Trying out different selves in attempt not to stay on the shelf,
Sex sells.
Cultures based on retail.
What else can you do but accelerate when you’re on a high way,
Apart from keep your hands on the wheel
Steady, otherwise you might derail…

Locked out...

Little black girl
In a big bad world
Sat in the doorway
Head bowed,
Arms warped around her knees,

Alone, locked out.
He invited her in.

Swung the door open and approached, her
Nose flared, trying to catch the smell of coffee, sex, ill intent…
The air was clear, but her mind was fogged with conditioned stereotypes
That cast shadowy figures of black erections and beady black eyes in dark alleyways
Wifebeaters, blunts and beer,
A sense of fear
Was her initial reaction to him,
a brother, neighbor, possible friend, possible rapist,

He invited her in,

Offering her a place to wait until the locksmith came
She smiled and said no.
She was fine, although she really wasn’t,
She’d rather wait it out, alone
Than in a room of black men.

He opened the door,
She closed it and sat in the doorway
Alone.
Locked out.

Where dogs go to die

You drew me out
As a blade would pressed to flesh.
Cloaked in the tantalizing nature of death
Like a night light to insects
You induce a deadly attraction,
A pleasure from pain,
Of which only you are to gain.

Stirring an urge
Deep in the wombs of women,
You thread a sorrowful scent of helplessness
By the careless flicker of your tail
Which you knew would be difficult not to trail

A dying dog
In search for its final resting place
I follow, at first, at a distance
Till you find a peace with me;

We share an intense intimacy
As you let me watch you
Undress your wounds
And dress them in pieces of me
Remained stained in your blood
Bound to your side
A bandage you bled through
Now used, healed and discarded,
Left only with a slashed scar, a reminder of you.

Chemical Love

Hormonal reactions
Triggered by physical actions
Send chemicals surging
Through arteries and veins,
Like a shot of heroin
Cupid’s bullet to the brain;
Temporarily disabling all rational thinking,
Left suspended in a state of infatuation
A state of mental intoxication.
Chemical love;
The kind of love that gets you high...

Closeness

Closeness is not defined by physical proximity
But rather a dance between souls
Of complex and complementary strokes,
A body of intimacy
If formed by a presence completing an essence.
Bodies of mind unfold by the touch of fingertips
From conversations
as profound as the brush of quivering lips…

A precious bond between two entities
Is created by a synergy of energies
Sometimes found between sweaty palms clasped, hand in hand;
Enclosed in the words of letters between long distance lovers;
In the comfort of a child’s head laying in rest upon their mother’s breast;
Even in the electric signals of phone calls and online messages between friends.


Closeness.

Thanx Philip 4 d inspiration! :-)))

Horny Morning

As the sun rises from the east
So does the heat from beneath my waist;
Hardened nipples ripple the surface of the cotton bed sheet
Concealing my desires,
Attempting to extinguish the fire,
I toss and turn
In the glowing morning light.
Pillow squeezed between thighs,
Breathing heavy I let out a light sigh,
As lustrous thoughts drip from the lips of my labia,
And a secret it is no longer
That for sex I do hunger
In the early hours of the morn’!


"its just a thought, only a thought" - Dido

Untitled poem i wrote last night...

I’m exhausted;
Like the fuel from a car my energy depletes me
Because someone left the engine running,
Humming…stagnant
Thoughts cloud my mind.
Like thick heavy fumes polluting the true blue brilliant sky
Blocking the brainwaves of inspiration,
Causing scrambled stimulation,
My thoughts aren’t able to form and fly
Into the sky leaving streaks of poetic words and phrases,
Unlocking cages ,
Releasing the songs of caged birds.
Which for now, remain rustling in the folds of my mind.

I’m so exhausted,
Feeling creatively dry,
I damn these dark thoughtless clouds in the sky
Inhibiting me from flying.
I damn them!
And they damn me, in a crackle of thunder and lightning!
As if in response they begin to concentrate,
And the darkness of frustration begins to manifest,
Electric anger through the air vibrates
Breaking the tension of concentration.
The concentrated cloud of idle thoughts squeezes out :

A rain drop.
Drop.
Drops,
Onto my head, seeps into my head,
Forming a puddle of feelings and words
Which well strung
Into this piece of poetry.
Leaving lingering words
Hung in the air,
Trails of the flare of floetry.
Spoken poetry.


**Untitled....any suggestions?**

Shit in your Mind

Constipated conceptions of the world clog your mind
Distorting the truths of life, clouding over your minds eye.
Your breath is made foul by the words you speak
That hint at a decaying soul, a stench that comes from deep...
Your regurgitated re-enactments of what you think being ‘cool’ is
Repulse me, but I do not flinch away in disgust,
Instead I extend a hand, offering you a tissue
To wipe away that shit from your mind!!

dedicated 2 you chris.