Dimples, Eyes, SOUL.. pt 1

She had those
dimples...
they made me blush...
when she smiled & shyly looked away from the...
lens of my brown eyescope...
deep inkwells of cute, but not
sassy talk..
her eyes looked out in longing...
the mystery that was
SHE,
intrigued my sanity to its breaking point...
i sweated in my sleep...
i wanted to agree with my disagreements...
just for a walk with SHE
because
SHE had those dimples...
see
dimples are a trap in themselves
draw u in because,
if u can cause the dimples then
she's smiling...
u love it when she smiles...
but when her eyes smile...
i collapse under the weight of my own humanity....
i redraw the dimensions of her face with my eyes perfectly closed...
i etch them into my thoughts like a blind man,
her lips grace conscious thought &
unconscious rhythm...
her tongue my mind's pacemaker..
when i was about to arrest...
my God! those dimples....
Smile at me please, eyes....
grasp my hand with your soul....
whisper a single thought in my ear
i'll remember it forever...
i've already stored your style in my medulla....
smile for me dimples....
my eyes need to be happy one more time....

Ode To The HoneySuckle Princess

Delicate white fronds on
thick brush...deep in the woods,
back roads to oblivion..
sweet
scents assault the untrained nose,
sweet
protests, the untrained palate..
so hurt ,when the storms blew by
watching her other sisters get tossed in the sky, she
held on
steadfast,
inviting hummingbirds to
taste her nectar in days of Sun,
needing the bees to
pollinate her mind,
help her make another song,
herself a sweet ode to history,
flashbacks to the past when
she herself dropped out the trees
as a seed,
surviving for her babies to feed...
they say its cold in the "D",
i
butterfly
uncoil my siphon
to read
pen styles of iconic depth,
at such depth i catch my breath...
and
hold it to
soak in the essence
and
enjoy the sweet blessings
of the honey suckle princess...
Bloom now
Bloom forever, but...
Bloom for you

The EMPTY

the empty made me full
how?
non-answers, none answered
too busy to
explain yet
too idle to
understand..
the empty scared me
scares me
embarasses me
harasses peace
yet
so still like
dry leaf whispers
raspy advice to my life's bio..
autobio story bound & leather backed
moth nibbled but empty
me/she story related one-lined like
off color joke
laugh because
the tear ducts
empty
take me
my life
my pain
my love
my angles
my theories
and
secret them away
under
midnight shadowed elms
blood on the parchment now for
the pen is empty

D.AYD.REA.M

i resort 2 daydreams
when the night seems too dark,
sometimes the sunrise is even bloodless,
i, exhale troubles away,
in other ways that,
the inbox crowd cant decipher,
i daydream,
of penning daydreams
that daydream
about cyphers,
i float on waning breezes,
warm updrafts,
loving looks,
don't touch me unless its with your smile,
so at times i guess
i daydream
that the daydream
was real,
all that i pen are daydreams,
hoping that scribing the bad things
will help them heal,
i calm in dreams
but spirits
never cease,
in real life real world MTV ills,
AND
they ain't seen the half,
of what i have,
AND
i haven't seen a quarter of what he has,
AND
he hasn't seen a third if what she has,
BUT
we all dream the pain will ease
AND
leave peace in its wake...
I Dream

Satin

I'm
wet dreaming,
she
dreaming wet
we,
meet in the middle,
watched her stroll in my mind,
beautiful strides accenting her
WOMAN,
her voice told me truths when we merely spoke,
what layer would she tear away when she
peaked,
whisper it right here,
i want
to hear
ur intense secrets,
ive captured essence of Goddess beneath
my solid but gentle touch,
i want to cradle,
not fondle,
caress
not grip,
savor
not lick,
your physical just the perfect platter for your
spiritual,
your perspiration salts my lips,
wets my dreads,
we've returned to Eden
in
one
decision,
i feel your embrace like you'll never let me go,
i need that,
your lips calling
without words,
your hips on auto,
mine in pace,
our
hearts on stairmaster,
wrap your legs,
you want more,
i want all,
moans come syncopated with the breeze
flapping the curtains,
and
the traffic outside has dulled,
until
this whole world is ours
and
we are alone in it...
i
fall asleep inside...
we
on Satin...

Subtle

some dwell on weary knowledge caressed by the wary..
too much caution..
life has made them afraid to live..
Cocooned in a dense wrap of insecurities..
i myself hang from the silks..
my spirit subdued at times..
my fervor has fever.. unaware of the possibilities..
is this why i sit..?.
and reach out thru my eyes and ears and drink in ur stories..
subtle..
my approach is vampiric in nature but i
need to feel ur essence to remind me that im still human
live in senses.. i..
cry with strangers..
fall in love with recluses and gypsies..
your stability is not mine own..
i prefer the edge..
i open her words and see life in movies on no screen
but my third..
in parallel..
with my own script..
pryin for more pages..
i write up empty sheets.. and drain more wisdom from ur life...
and am
matured and relaxed..
blow smoke i..
am not the only one.. subtly subject myself to your pain and your wants and needs
and make them mine..
i will suffer with you but not just to aid u
but to remind me..
do not claim depth of knowledge or wisdom because what i know
..i got from you.
.subtly..
i am duly impressed at times at the stark colors some present..
yea some know what emotion wrought purple
..and black and
smoky and
misty and clear..
opaque mind of mine...
i reflect the essence of all i am around...
subtle tho..
like that hint of hickory wood smoke on well cooked meats..
you know i'm there but
you just don't know where

Loc Maturation

Incessant Indentations,
My Dreads,
Dreadnaught
Acoustic Pain
Because
It leaves the Soulful
Hollow
Holes in
Locks
Thrice
Corrupt the Continuity
like Cracks in
City Street
Or
My prolapse and
Its
Off Beat
Laugh with it all tho
I learn to
There is no solution
But
Roll
Palmroll
with inhumane Punches
Thoroughbred
Negro
Slave to Who?
glance back
Shackles now hung in the Museum of
Unnatural History
but the Pain still resounds
til
THAT DAY
my Dreads mature...
my DREAD matures.
Selah

The Call (inspired By Terri Rochelle Savage's Prose of the same name)

this wet/dry
daydream of u
breaks any oasis of pain i inhabit outside.. i
need ur body to call... 911
emerge this emergency.. relieve this disaster.. caress something
with your vivid colors..
of love...
does it have a scent?
teach it to me...
enough of these words
talk to me informally..
warmly...
envelop me in you and enact your magic
not concerned... about the words outside..
seduce me like Delilah
and i will adore you and my dreads will be yours
their strength already gone..
reverse the myth my love...
i see your temple as my personal retreat from
this...
this doesn't want me...
this only wants what it wants..
will u call me? your lips the holding tank for your passions
and...
my flesh
await i do thus for reality.. imagination is such a tease...
engross me in a hold unlike any other and
grasp tightly my shoulders as i take u away with me..
this world is mine..
Queen reign in this decrepit existence i lead
and throttle my emotions with your humanity...
i await the call....