porcelain

alabaster loveliness,

a negative of all the

lonliness within

a single skin,

a positive by

definition,

giving new meaning

to what desire

can produce within

a human mind.

as if in the stark

contrast contained

in imaginative

productions,

she is Lot's wife,

unable to give up

on pleasurable things,

wanting more of

those secret contents

that make her

smile and bring her

a satisfaction that

the pious could

never know,

turned to salt,

to porcelain,

to snow,

yet smiling,

all the while knowing

the price she has paid

was worth it long before

the check

came due...

COMPUTER BLUES (makes me wanna holler)

(make me wanna holler, the way they do
my life, this ain't living, this ain't living...)
dead city,
open sores where homes used to sit pretty,
still have whores on the main drags,
but these are the children i used to play with,
from places i used to stay,
sisters and brothers just trying to get by,
trying to stay high,
killing the fear, know they gonna die,
locked in a prison with borders for walls,
living in terror of the day the sky finally falls,
(make me wanna holler, the way they do my life, this ain't living, this ain't living...)
moment by moment,
seconds tick tock off the clock,
listen to the bullets downtown,
on the other block,
baby scream, mama's body covered in blood,
eyes open seeing nothing,
drenched in a red flood,
indiscriminate drive by,
not even time to sigh,
they say a minute to live and a second to die,
here in a wannabe gangsta town,
niggers tear it down
black people are afraid to make a sound,
caught up in television negritude,
while stupid motherfuckers profit
from teaching children to be rude,
twelve and pregnant,
thirteen doing life for murder,
schools empty, jails full,
so we going no further...
(make me wanna holler, the way they do my life, this ain't living, this ain't living...)
all my school mates locked up or put down,
class reunion in hell,
i don't go, can't stand the smell,
homeboys did the dope slinging
gang bang shit,
before it was coast to coast,
now its lord and host
of a set of young minds,
shopping mall cool,
pants around knees,
getting raped unknowingly like fools,
but its okay, cause the NBA pays,
and DefJam looking for new spitters,
though they only finding bullshitters,
and a Google search for my friends
brings up obituaries,
federal prison stretches
and AWOL searches from militaries,
run a search engine trip,
like looking for white dignitaries,
no such thing in this world
where young black men get dead and buried,
and you damn right,
it makes me wanna holler,
but i hold my tongue,
cause the afrocentrics are mental,
and the rest are deaf and dumb,
its looking like the slave ships
are docking back in the bay,
except now its electronic economical,
in this age and day,
and if there is no righteous ones,
gonna be computer blues,
if there ain't no righteous ones,
gonna be computer blues,
and somebody, please,
PLEASE,
tell me what the hell is wrong...
(make me wanna holler, the way they do my life, this ain't living, this ain't living...)

poetry in motion...

a touch

a touch upon skin,
remote location,
from a distance she kisses me,
and i taste salt
from her tears or
someone else's semen,
same either way.
a touch upon my face,
her hand caresses
the bruises she left
with her right hand,
hurting me the only way
her daddy showed her how to,
and i don't complain,
because the stars only make one pattern,
but free will is random,
wild and a burden to bear.
a touch upon my chest,
hold for a moment,
see me standing,
erect and ready,
wet place opens before me,
access denied by
my own lack of understanding.
nothing is true in the mouth of a liar.
a touch upon my penis,
lips take me down deep,
teeth touch through flesh
and i am undone,
seeking a new definition
of manhood,
hoping that there is more to life
than just this...
a touch from far away,
and so much is born i
n the mind lost in yesterday's
calender pages...

precious thing

beauty and understanding,
creating a state of grace,
constantly adjusting
to get a better view
of her eyes,
something beyond knowing,
a feeling that's always been
beneath the skin,
wanting beyond needing,
desire so deep
it could be construed
as a character flaw,
a kiss that taste of
honeysuckle and myrrh,
a blessing that probes
on the tip of an exploratory tongue,
slither and turn,
coaxing secret words
that she swallows down her throat,
precious thing,
diamonds from virgin lands,
water untouched by smog,
unadulterated wine
and vegetation without poison,
and her skin,
original, unique,
containing a beauty and
a soul supreme,
a love that falls like kingdoms
and reigns like a deity over me,
humidity...
in the presence of such a
precious thing...

pride

disease of being,
wanting more,
turning some beautiful
maybe
into the hideous
what is,
and nothing is sacred
when everything is for sale.

mother,
wandering through
familiar strangeness,
seeking sustenance,
breasts long dry,
poisoned by drugs and
despair,
still young enough
to barter for
her death and
the life of her children,
always someone ready
to buy her dignity,
to trade what remains
of her esteem
for cash, coin and
the currency of hell.

he slings
with abandon,
wanting to be king
of the 'hood,
of the ghetto,
of the city,
never seeing himself
in the light of
the parasite,
the pariah,
the poisonous soul
contaminating all that
was once lovely and
nurturing in his
shortpants days.
he sells himself
a bill of goods
that he cannot afford
and passes the inflation
down the line,
with his penis
shining from
the saliva of the needy
and his head
empty of anything except
the flickering styles
of video unreality,
little remains
but for him to die,
for his blood to nurture
the uprising
of the next crop of
poisonous fool.

nothing is as expensive as
pride,
cost everything
to maintain it,
can't afford to lose it,
and once its gone,
can't seem to ever
get enough
to buy it back again...

i ache

i ache...
classic beauty in
colorized rays,
striking me blind
from her means and
her ways,
fantasies realized,
truth in her skin,
wanting and wanting,
i ache from within...

i long...
take her away
and set her in my arms,
drink from her ocean
and cause her alarm,
eat her orgasm
like slices of melon,
steal her last kiss
like a desperate felon,
i long,
quivering, erect and strong...
i long...

i need...
to down inside you
plunge and refresh my soul,
to swim in your cavern
and feel the walls shimmer,
to be in your grasp,
you the boa constrictor,
me a very willing victim,
i need
to feel you crush me,
absorb everything
i eject into
your inner sanctum
that we might become
one religion from
two places of disbelief
that anything this
powerful
could ever occur,
though i give credit
to a goddess
deigning to dally
with a mere mortal
such as myself,
lost in an
ache,
lost in a
longing,
caught up and
released
from this
need...