I'm a black actor
So my monologues are gospel
my dialogues are political
my blocking is a statment
My diction is forgiven

I'm a black actor
So Shakespeare speaks above my melanin,
Avant guarde is a canvas too fresh for color
And the urban expierence
    Is a glove that fits too well to remove

I'm a black actor
So my casting is guaranteed
My bio line is their defense against vulturous social critics circling the audition table
They need a black actor
I'm a black actor

As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart,
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,
And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,
O’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
    O, learn to read what silent love hath writ,
    To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

a consummate character actor
came to the footlight stage
his performances critically acclaimed
in entertainment's grand page

Burton nor Sir John Gielgud
had not a patch on his prowess
in all facets of the craft
this star did certainly impress

at The Crown Theatre he played
a bearded vagabond
who wandered the Yorkshire Dales
and further beyond

he received many an accolade
for a gripping role in "Where Is The Maid"  
the plot centred around
an English castle's moated ground

scripts by the score keep
flooding in each week
as directors love working
with the sensational Edward Deek

these lines
acting as a poem

somewhat of a method actor
born of parents in the theater
thrown out into the gutter

maybe will grow up
and crawl back into the theater
to specialise in Shakespearean roles
a little of Chekov, some of Eugene O'Neill

to take a concept and to strip it naked,
and to make love with the emotion,
to caress the bare skin of the philosophical mind,
with such passion, such intimacy
surrounds these actions and encompasses the performance.
mental ***, the prostitution of my conscienceness
to the worlds of thought and idealism.
I give my mind, liberation,
freedom to think,
to be,
to believe and understand.
our world, which is meant for us to live and create,
and to express and embrace that psychological intimacy.
that eroticism that a thinker senses,
the ecstacy of the mind is what we strive
to find, and to feel.
this is how we know.
- n.t.p.

Thunderstorms are ******
So stand underneath a tree
Or light a candle in your bedroom and lust after the one you love

The wind is a wise gypsy
So let yourself be blown away like autumn leaves
And let the colors swirl around you

Sunshine leaves sweat and joy
So play in the daytime
And watch the white fluffy clouds turn into shapes

Nighttime brings diamonds in the sky
So look for the man in the moon
And make a wish on a falling star

Mountains are for those with kind souls
So climb to the top
And let your soul grow wings

The ocean forces you to dream
So ride each wave
While your mind evaporates

Trees are habitats for woodland creatures
So meditate with the noise they make
And feel serenity

(Savor nature in all its glory)