I want to fall with a Poetress
Not a girl but a woman that can match my intellect.
She can cook and clean but is far from domesticated.
Need a ghetto queen like Latifah
I'm from the hood baby I can handle a skillet.
Let's split it
You cook the rice I make the chicken
A woman that understands it all from politics to religion
She fights for her rights
And some nights she doesn't want to lay she wants to ride  
Never ask for nothing but is willing to die
Living for the moment
Like of our live is being directed by Nick Cassavetes
A Poetress I promise to keep smiling
Like a woody Allen movie
And if I sell my soul
I'll be Adam and she Lilith
I want to fall in love with a Poetress
That argues with me metaphorically
Poetic in her actions
When she threatens to leave me
A goddess with words and she let's me hear it
A woman I can open up like a book
And let's me eat in her living room
One that can bear baby Jesus and the anti Christ if God decides
My match
My one on one
Wether I have a bible or a ski mask
Much more than superficial beauty
But if I had to choose
She'll be Patron white with a Henny ***
Don Pergion for a mouth,
she speaks class
1880 aged wine for her mind
Her thoughts are dined
I want to fall in love with a Poetress
Who understand cutlery
But loves bacon and burger beef
A goddess of poetry
Would be the only one right for me
I want to fall in love with a Poetress
And the search begins
your majesty.....

Let's speak about love and how much I love. I've watched my pen bleed out slowly for these words I've written that some have read. Only seem to trend when I speak about love.
Was told my poems are no good because they don't rhyme. Foolish guy wouldn't understand the essence of each line. Wouldn't understand that nothing is sweet just sour like lime. That my worst poems were the best in my mind. You still believe I can't make a poem rhyme? When you read this guess you'll be surprised. just to make it clear I probably read more books in my childhood than you'll read in you lifetime. Is easy to rhyme.
Said I couldn't have a 10 word scheme.
So here is one.
"*******" times five lines.
Said I speak to much about the hood I speak to much about drugs.
I don't need for you to understand I'm far away from the sunny side.
I live on Broadway never river side. From the city that doesn't sleep to the city that doesn't speak. I can tell you how to take ******* and make it sweet as sugar cane with water and baking soda.
Love love love as I tortured my pen.
I've watched my pen bleed out slowly for these words I've written that some have read. .
Why I speak about the ghetto?
Everyone poem that I've read has been about love that is far from the streets I grew up in. Every line coincides with the previous one. Love love love
I love my brother who brought me a slice when I didn't have to eat. Now I'm grown no more fasting for me. No trial he just took it 5 years later went from a blackberry to the iPhone 6. Six months in a halfway house now he's free.
I do more than speak about the hood and drugs.
Don't take it at face value if you don't know how much it cost me and the family.
I'm making it college degree and all.
I'm glad I don't trend
I'm glad some don't understand
I can speak about love though all my relationships have fallen and crumbled to the ground like the twin towers. And if that offends you then skip the line and read the next one
I can speak about love though all my relationships have fallen and crumbled to the ground like the Berlin Wall on November ninth of eighty nine. Love love love. This is my poetry and history is mine.
Love love love.

The cowards came in the night
All were heavily armed,
To ****** and burn and kidnap,
But not one of them was harmed.

They always make sure their victim
Has no means of self defence
That is how they operate
And to them its just common sense.

Why would they pick on someone
Who is able to easily fight back
Because they are armed and trained
To beat them if they dared attack?

No, not for them the hard fight
With men who are trained to ****,
They prefer to attack little girls
And take them against their will.

So these hard men of the group
Which calls itself Boko Haram
Tell me in what do you really believe,
Because your actions are not of Islam.

Tom Higgins 14/05/2014

Religion is cascading the hill
Of reason into a reptilian dale:
**** by the dark Jidhadists' acts--
Souls demented beyond the pale.

From Iraq to Egypt--there, thanks
To Heaven for el-Sisi; from Syria
To Yemen to Somalia, and a place
Like the lands and shores of Nigeria,

Where Boko Haram breathes hell
In slaying and off skirting dames,
Destroying to the smirk of the devil--
Knowing terrorists are no Muslims.

Over 200 schoolgirls,
what difference does it make?
If there were only one ten or eight,
they were never yours to take

Hadija, Febi, Chioma,
should be in all of our heads,
but are instead
in a filthy man's bed.

We are the hands
that need to hold their mothers
or wipe away the tears
of their broken baby brothers

One found schoolgirl

the difference that would make
to be held in her fathers arms

they were never yours to take

Motorised thunder,
Tearing the forests assunder,
Death lay in their wake,
And the fear, no, 'tis not fake.

Black box breaking
Slowly breaking
Slowly
I saw the cracks
I saw them ripple down her back
I saw the freeze and thaw of nations
The renaissance and death and renaissance
I saw the wealth and worth of world powers
I saw them crumble
I was there
And I am here
I read it all and wrote it down
I saw it all and wrote it down
I kissed the survivors and wrote it down
I saw the earth in its entirety
I fell in love and vomited and fell in love
I saw her in her emptiness
I saw her sway in the winds
The winds grew cold and colder
She grew old and older
And so distraught
Mangled
Destroyed
Derailed
Demolished
Stripped of poise and polish
Stripped of it all
I saw her disintegrate
I saw her fall
Still I,
I still
I always standing
Watching still
Always seeing
Standing and seeing, I
Drinking tea
Calm, cool, collected, serenity

Now your turn
You see me
See me walking down the street
See my waist-long wavy hair
Blonde and sparkling in the sun
Lipstick smile
Hipbones and cheekbones chiseled and deadly
Long leg strut down the runway
Of center town sidewalks
The world is my oyster
See my backpack full of alphabetized books
Handwriting neat and perfect
Pen behind my ear I’m ready
For all of this
See me smoking cigarettes out my dorm room window
Listening to Mozart
And smiling fully when the strings jump in
See me on the park bench reading
Long Russian novels
I inhale the pages like heartbeats
In-hale
Ex-hale
In-hale
Ex-hale
Breaths and beats fully synchronized to the flipping of pages
And to the Metronome Mozart wrote me.

Don’t be deceived
I made my world and destroyed it and made my world
Independent to a fault
I made my living off stitching together broken bones
And melting old forgotten thrones
Sculptures that said I needed no one
No one could keep up anyway
I ran too fast
I ran all day
And kindof expected someone to care
But no one ever has
I was never worth the trouble
Pull me out from my own rubble
And kiss me if you can
No one knows my secret plan to live an embarrassing convention
All this glass is just pretention
I glued it together myself
I wrote my own pamphlet for self help
I pieced together my own face
I sculpted my own form and adorned it
I broke my own heart and mourned it
I arrived and left and arrived
And here I’ll stay
Black box breaking
Slowly breaking
Slowly
I saw the cracks
I saw them from the start
Death and renaissance and death
***** and love and *****