**i stood on a star
and put the (uni)verse on notice..
in love for the first time;
never prior to hearing her speak
could i've known any emotion
as forthright
or that it had a voice
a podium
and an audience
to give its whole mouth to...
taught me
how to pronounce
the same scattered thoughts
that
once upon a self-conscious moment
would dissolve
on the base of my tongue
like potent hallucinogens...
the same sentiments
i couldn't enunciate to save my life
i've become an abstract illustration
of what it is to be moved
and a slave to vacant canvases
bad ***** that she is...
beauty to my beast
and as feel good as a four letter word
her poems are as fine as the source
or a frozen red rose
in an empty wineglass
and hard to find vintage vinyl albums
my drops
are laced with the blood of wordsmiths
we're hip-hop
thick skinned
an all-black cathedral choir
a solar eclipse
big things
her poems
are the bones of what's left of me
or candy yams on sunday
or a ***** dollar bill
stuck to the bottom of my shoe
good luck like that
and her own personal soapbox
our sessions are privileged
my crystallized thoughts
are off key
all the rage...
we work unsuspecting platforms
like subway performance artists
her poems are intimate touches
in chantilly lace
or a pair of oatmeal tim's
refined
and love me, love me nots
penned in tear drop blue
we're so cultural
religious
and impartial to love
while our political joints
march with their fists raised in protest
of voter suppression
baby girl's, frances to my zeke
once upon a time in the projects
and one way or another
she's happy people
dope like cannabis
sweet like cane sugar
and as beloved
as ms. ida brown's tattered bible
#myword
dear shorty,
i want my poetry and write it too
all ink smeared roads lead back to you**
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
**i stood on a star
and put the (uni)verse on notice..
in love for the first time;
never prior to hearing her speak
could i've known any emotion
as forthright
or that it had a voice
a podium
and an audience
to give its whole mouth to...
taught me
how to pronounce
the same scattered thoughts
that
once upon a self-conscious moment
would dissolve
on the base of my tongue
like potent hallucinogens...
the same sentiments
i couldn't enunciate to save my life
i've become an abstract illustration
of what it is to be moved
and a slave to vacant canvases
bad ***** that she is...
beauty to my beast
and as feel good as a four letter word
her poems are as fine as the source
or a frozen red rose
in an empty wineglass
and hard to find vintage vinyl albums
my drops
are laced with the blood of wordsmiths
we're hip-hop
thick skinned
an all-black cathedral choir
a solar eclipse
big things
her poems
are the bones of what's left of me
or candy yams on sunday
or a ***** dollar bill
stuck to the bottom of my shoe
good luck like that
and her own personal soapbox
our sessions are privileged
my crystallized thoughts
are off key
all the rage...
we work unsuspecting platforms
like subway performance artists
her poems are intimate touches
in chantilly lace
or a pair of oatmeal tim's
refined
and love me, love me nots
penned in tear drop blue
we're so cultural
religious
and impartial to love
while our political joints
march with their fists raised in protest
of voter suppression
baby girl's, frances to my zeke
once upon a time in the projects
and one way or another
she's happy people
dope like cannabis
sweet like cane sugar
and as beloved
as ms. ida brown's tattered bible
#myword
dear shorty,
i want my poetry and write it too
all ink smeared roads lead back to you**
