Blood flows
from my pen
As I vow
once again
To control the cogitations of my mind.
Toss and turn
All night long
Kicking sheets
Wet and strong
Chasing dreams &
Fighting nightmares
Of this kind.
Lick your back
Slap your face
I am tired
From the chase
Just one kiss
Gives me the strength to go on.
Call for you
You’re not there
Open my eyes
You’re everywhere
Just out of reach
Yet close enough to read my poem
**** me softly
Bring me back
Entice me with
The love I lack
Keeps me shaking, breaking
Chasing after you
Say you love me
Lift my hand
Catch the words
But not the man
Inner voice said
Queen, you must now choose
Met this boy
Said he had time
So we hung out
Yet still I find
He can never take the place of Beautiful You
Tall like you
With big fat lips
Got a beard
But I can’t kiss
An imitation of my only love so true
He don’t move me
My pen don’t bleed
My soul can’t love
What it don’t need
So I keep shying, crying,
Trying to do this thing
Lick your neck
Slap your face
Salt my tongue
Taste your grace
All my desire is only for my King
Blood on my pen
Salt on my tongue
Rings of Saturn
Around the one
My word is bond
As I command angels to start anew
I move mountains
Upon this earth
My mind conceives
My heart gives birth
My realms exchange
As I tell the future what to do
Ahayah will bind and loose
Up in His realm
What I bind and loose
Down in this hell
I set free my passion and desire for you
One day you’re here
Then you’re gone
Only lifeline
Is my phone
My heart is seeking
To love a King
In spirit and truth
I don’t write ‘cause
I can’t speak
My words just march
To a different beat
When I dip my pen in blood
To share with you my thoughts
Cogitations
Of my mind
Always on you
All the time
Can’t get you out of my spirit
And it’s all my fault
Chariot swinging
High and low
Tell myself
I gotta go
But I kissed you
And kisses don’t lie
Salt on my tongue
Dipped my pen in blood
Handwriting on the wall
Said you’re the one
Sugar on my lips
Coating the words
SOUL TIE
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC
There is a flower
That blooms at night
Once a year
Petals open
A spectacular performance
Of movement
Of unfolding
Of sensitivity
To light of moon
To sound of slience
To touch of breeze.
For the one
Who remains sentient
Who has anticipated
The movement
The unfolding
The sensitivity
To light of eyes
To sound of breath
To touch of hand
The rare experience lingers
Leaving residue of beauty
Of addiction
Of want
Of conflict
In mind
In heart
In hand
In movement
Where
Humility begat awareness
Awareness begat patience
Patience begat contemplation
Contemplation begat hesitation
Hesitation begat eagerness
Eagerness begat boldness
Boldness begat movement
Of gentle fingers
Manipulating petals fully open
Caressing guards put down
Bruising
By light
By sound
By touch
The Queen of the night
Chocolate daisy
Moonflower.
At four o'clock
The evening primrose folds
Upon the sound of the angels trumpet.
Selah
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:32 PM UTC
Strange, it seems,
To write poetically with no rhyme or rhythm.
Settling upon reason seems to be treason
to the poet of the box.
I dont see boxes. I am
a poetic tyrant
coloring outside the lines–
An unjust act for one who deems oneself a rule keeper.
But when the mind is free the pen has sovereignty to glide and slide and pause on the page.
Thoughts collecting from everywhere find a place to engage.
Focus
as thoughts collide at the crossroads,
saying one thing,
meaning another.
Giving mysteries over to the pretty name of metaphor.
The reading between the lines
the meeting of the minds
the sprinting of the hearts
the dodging of the darts…
Flame overtakes the circumstance
until circumstance prevails.
Everything dont burn when you fight fire with fire.
Some things are refined by it– and to some it doesnt even apply.
Fire made me strong enough to cut glass without shattering it.
Precisely.
Fight fire with water (an equal force in its own right)…
Fragile pearl I am no more
because the host no longer had to do the work.
Nor did I find it admirable to dwell where there was no air for me to breathe and feel accomplished when I didn’t suffocate.
The free mind has the audacity to change itself every ten seconds
and recreate itself at the most inopportune times.
Chaos to the rule keeper.
The free verse is for the free spirit
and the free spirit defies fear.
Fear lives in the box
that I dont see
as I color outside the lines
and give myself reason
to commit poetic treason
by writing poetically, at times
with no rhythm or rhyme.
Long live the poetress
possessing a fragile kind of strong
with her free mind and free spirit set in free verse stone.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC