me, you and Hennessy.
me, you this Hennessy.
three different people, one night...
this one night...
I swear this is about to turn into a piece about how we three came together with these trees, lit..
you, me ..this Hennessy talking to me baby and I've been thinking about you.
right now I'm about to let this henny talk , see I've been watching you tonight.. this night, stargazing ....you me, falling for the moon..the stars.. baby this is where we are, me in between your legs, thighs rubbing on my neck , warmth on my ears.. This is me, you and where we're meant to be...together us three..


me you this Hennessy lets get acquainted, the henny speaks to me and I to you, you could call henny the wing because once Richard got that whiff he's never been able to say no to nights with you. Richard got a whiff, his fix, the aroma.. my god, blaspheme i apologise , speaking in tongue, my tongue in your ear, mouth, neck, *******, naval back to your *******, Richard lost track of time he has got to dip but still he stands at attention...minutes gone by forgetting the whiff he once caught, slowly going down, tying his shoes looking up to you on one knee, that whiff, your *****... he has to dip but watching you drip ? the henny, the devil on his shoulder whispered to him " devour her, eat at her soul, speak in tongues , spell her name with your tongue, make her see stars because under the stars, that's where it all began.. us stargazing , stars gazing , you dazing... daisies. day in day out you , me and this Hennessy ...pure bliss.

. she was 19, i was 21, and i guess i was the first boy who treated her decently, allowed her to slap me in the face and stood like a copper statue before her... she wouldn't have made it at university among all the English yuppies, being pregnant... turns out, she might have opted for the Juno (the movie) route... all i know is that she graduated with a masters in anthropology... she was up in Edinburgh, i was back in London, roofing with my father doing the Scottish Widows HQ and then some other project, trying to weave myself into a managerial position in some roofing company... but then? the psychosis spiral... oddly enough - no hammers, no hearing voices wielding a hammer running down the street naked... contained... walked into a church near King's Cross st., lay on beside a the side altar, pulled the cloth from the altar, and wrapped myself in it... then heard singing, had my iPod with me... turned it off... turned it on again, turned it off... the singing still echoed the church... got up, put the cloth back onto the altar and started running around the church aisles... then a great wind dispersed the singing... what kept my sanity? well... given that i was smoking marijuana and fasting? one word... sátān... the whole 40 days in the desert? cut short... in a concrete desert... i phoned my then ex-girlfriend to meet me at this spot outside the church - right across from a royal mail HQ - and i remember the words: can you bring me bread, and water? nothing... on my own then... no... that sort of experience is no cause for jubilation, there is no ******* euphoria: you're talking about ******* it - in my case? thankfully that's only metaphorical... and i'm not buying the psychiatric *******, the easy way out answer: ooh... but youz ver in a church... what?! what the **** are these people talking about? sober people are allowed to have these experiences? well, really?! so why so many of them are negating or doubting intellectuals?! negation is the new doubt... somehow i managed to fend off the atypical munchies routine while smoking marijuana while walking in public... never bothered me... i was a reggae ***** at the time... notably Israel Vibration, Stephen Marley, Damian & Culture... & ***** and the Maytals... cliche, i know... but **** and rap?! seriously? gangster whatever the hell that means... i've just read an article about cultural appropriation... so what has the Jamaican Rastafarian culture have to do with Old Testament prophets?! JAH... they're always singing about JAH... it's a ******* yak! yah! a german YA! cultural appropriation my ***! it's Jamie Oliver's **** sauce! ****'s sake! yeah, right, Bambi on Jamaica smoking a silly one doing the reinvention of king David's psalms... no cultural appropriation there... nope... none... nothing... nothing wrong with Alpha Blondy singing about Yerushalem... nope... no cultural appropriation.... nope... none... nothing! i mentioned these bands to my Jamaican **** seller... big on the Illuminati conspiracy theories, i liked to listen to him ramble... hardly a Charlie Temple paranoid... loved his ox tail broth, his grandma made it for him... and a pretty daughter, but no mother... eh? his Thai ****? i'd prefer the shorter span of a tobacco high... where? near my old high school, Canon Palmer R.C. - now a ******* academy! whoop! whoop! sound the klaxon! you don't experience what i've experienced and start a cult with *** ****** in mind... like **** if you think you do... you... lay low... you puncture the existentialist exodus from Cartesian doubt - namely outright negation - and you wait for the revitalization of doubt, namely the pop culture variant of belief... doubt is, oddly enough, a variant of belief... and belief? be a leaf... just remember you were once attached to a branch of a tree.

yeah...

        a catholic school isn't
exactly a Jesuit school...

but being asked questions
about abortion
and euthanasia

   aged 15 or 16?

in real life?
  you short-circuit, glitch,
become ronin -

    the personal life, details?
too messy...
   she tells you she's taking
contraceptives,
   she's ends up self-harming...
she says she was abducted
and held for ransom,
she's a russian citizen,
her ex-boyfriend is still
hanging around,
  a son of some Russian oligarch...
you've only dated for a
bunch of months that do not
even make it half a year...
you don't mind condoms,
because... hell...
you'd love to see her wearing
latex...

     you know, the usual bits & bobs...

voodoo...
    for some strange reason i woke
up, and the ring finger blister
on my left hand, made by burning
out a cigarette on it
started bleeding:
  close to the bone -
and look! you get a slot motion
of your body recovering!
  no disclaimer concerning
the pros to what sharp objects
women do, by cutting...

but you know...
      asking a 15 / 16 year old
about his opinion
  about either abortion
or euthanasia?
  bad ******* move...
           at this point i'm thinking:
thank ****...

what does it even mean,
when a woman says it,
she's not exactly point-break
on Cartesian logic...

'matt, i think i'm pregnant'
'well, you know what you should
do, get an abortion.'

mind you... i am a citizen of a country
where abortion is legal...
hell, it might have worked,
*** was good, she could
reciprocate that sentiment...

oh, but if there is a kid at the end
of the tunnel?
i **** sure hope he doesn't
contact me, like a kid from
a ***** donor clinic...
      there's something malicious
waiting for him for me
to add about his mamma -

   aligned?
oh you know... *****, Henny,
  Diana and the Egyptian...
   go Charlie go!

                  please please keep
your name... we need a Charles trinity!

so yeah... Roman Catholic school...
****! oh right, outer east end of London...
Paddy central...
               i wonder...
                  but i'll never know...
the Polish Catholics are leaving...
               good on 'em...
          (yadda yadda, yeah yeah, for them)...

i'll never know...
   am i angry?
               i listen to Byzantine and Templar
chants and drink to a well earned
excess...
               sometimes the odd Bulgarian
******* to hug...
    
oh right... that one last time?
i didn't forget my genitals...
   i did an uncourteous lax of etiquette...
****!
           now it makes sense!
i forgot to trim my ***** hair!
(mumbling out) ******* eureka.

You like to say love disappeared.
And I swear it never left, but she talk like Kanye "Ima let you finish"
shrug her shoulders; cut me off, Swift.
    Drinks on the table it was no one else's business, Henny in my system there was no one else who witnessed how she never took a breath like a run on sentence so I'm in the club flexing working on my fitness; arms out stretched on my chest crucifixion.
    I'm forgiven but could never get a word in not even one syllable I'm talking in synonyms I,
never
ever
nevermore, words with friends.  Triple word how absurd you be trippin ****, on my Instagram insecurity I'm tired of it I'm with my Boys chillin rarely smoked but might burn a spliff; ease the pain so insane major Payne fatigue is in.  
    I got a glimpse of future, I use to, try to hit you up reconnect, bluetooth, I'm in her ear lying for the ***, I miss you, she on top giving me the truth: this all you.  But **** it though I'm not trynna be your man, but when she leaving out for work I be sleepin in
and when she home I tax that *** like I'm Uncle Sam nothing ever change so after head she be at my neck
next
    Flashback to the present
--and--
she still telling me how I don't get it
stressed
unproductive in her presence, you not even in front of me I'm still tasting lemons; Yo, my star player wants a trade should I let her go? cut too deep for bandaids should I let it flow.  
    Throwback to the past vampire clothes but the blood different I'm a sucker for that red though: she was floating 6 inches from the earth floor, you's a victim baby true blood, spoil us!  Show Me What You Got lil mama let your "Kingdom Come" dressed in all black spending money black republican?  Awesome and some; I was sliding home she was catching, clamping; say I turn her on like a touch screen, Samsung; with a touch of color you would disobey your mother as I slid under your covers
mid-day massages
"Midnight Maunders"
at least that's how it use to be, now Award Tour got her trippin almost frequently
we use to fight for love she said now she a causality!
        "and how you gonna make this bout you it's about me, phone ringing since 1am it's about 3
  thought you was slick huh,
thought I was sleep, you **** right love disappeared"
but she never leaves.
She's still waiting to exhale, but she never breaths.

Pardon me waiter
But there's a fly in my soup
Doing the backstroke

Super Saiyan like Goku
Japanese got Nobu
Got things to blow through
Soul searching eat soul food

Lineman said go blue
Know things I know too
Cough down got the flu
'Rona season ye they knew

Hit a lick and they rich now
Kobe shooting bricks now
Make music you call sounds
Shorty go two rounds

Henny Henny on the flip town
Jealousy they talk about
I don't really give a **** now
I just wanna blow it up now

Someone come roll spliffs
6ix God go views this
Air punching got no fists
I just feel so diff

Get rich and go dip
Pinking I go swim
Jelly jelly got no diss
****** like solstice

Don't want to lose connect
Dripping down like a faucet
I just want to be blessed
Late sleep feel too stressed

Situations go reflect
"**** my ex" is a reflex
I just want two things
Big money and respect

East to side to the rex
Play smart got no decks
Aces  up next
Need a queen be the best

Whip around in my X
Flex on my ex
Check time Rolex
Get "I miss you" texts

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.....

Take a ride with me,
Give me your ear, your eyes;
Like stellar days of old,
I will tell no lies.

     You see my days weren't complicated,
When the rivers ran red,
    It was a bullet or the money,
Family gotta stay fed.

Your silent gestures cannot fathom
What was my everyday,
Like the hardened hollows of my soul,
I took my gun to the park to play.

    This was my life
From my chest into these words,
    Every link in the chain,
I am tied down by haunted verbs.

  Kindle old fires
And set your daily a blaze,
I survived with deep wounds,
   To the past I am a slave.

Give me my homiez,
All dead and gone,
Give a sip of that Henny,
I'll drip some on the lawn.

  This is me,
Just an old ****,
I'll remember the tombstones,
On bent knee I the marble a hug.

Today I am whipped
Among all the sorrows,
But being a survivor
Give me hope for all the tomorrows.

The westside,
Like a weary night *****,
No coming back, no coming back,
I can't take no more.....

Pick out a casket
And don't remember my name,
Anonymous me,
A Dedpoet who carried the blame.

Seven times I told you,
Seventy pins in seventy dolls on seventy dusty shelves in New Orleans backrooms.
Seven times I warned you
Seven hundred aches, seven hundred acres
I run across.
I outrun the burn and I outrun the grief
The witch in me, I race with her too.
Seven miles to run, seven miles behind.
And I pass that playful laugh of yours, grab at it
and stick it in my pocket, shove it deep, deep in my pocket.
And I pass that twinkle in your eyes
and I grab that too,
send it on a paper rocket flying the speed of light into seven universes far away.
I grab that last promise
the one that was slippery and hard to hold onto.
I grab it and hold it tight
And I run.
I told you I would
(you looked so surprised).
I run and my bones hit the ground with the rhythm and pulse of a tribal drummer
He drums out in my head
Run, Run, henny Run.  
He drinks my optimism from a cup, then beats his drum. Run, chickadee, run run.
He vomits my clarity at my feet all the while his brown weathered hands drum a ceaseless beat. Run, baby. He loves you not, run.
On the seventh day I run from you and
I find that I am made now from the down of your hair
so I run until I am bald.
I find that I am made now from  stalactites dripping from your tongue.
Celtic knot of assurances and reassurances.
I am made up of moments that I didn't make.
I am made up of your indecision. They bounce gleefully "I don't know, I don't know..."
they insist as they hit walls and corners.
They are lazy, I outrun them with ease.
Seven times I told you,
Itchy souls need to find a branch for stratching.
Seven miles between me and you
Seven hundred to go.

Sahn
6/12/14

you yell at me for nothing
Making me feel something
Crass
and rude
Because of your moons

You have too many
Too much sip off the Henny

I feel everything
Well only sadness and pain
And it’s wounded so tightly around me
I can barley breathe
It’s so suffocating
And I’m so committed to misery
I found myself proposing on one knee
She laughs and says no
Because she’s been with me before I was a teen

Im finding less ways to cope
Maybe I should feel up a shot glass
And throw a couple back
Until my vision becomes out of focus
And let the brown liquor
Run dangerously free
Like the migration of locus
But even then
Will that take away the hurt
I should knock back a few more
Until my stomach swells
And every sound rings in my skull like a bell
Maybe I shouldn’t stop
Until each step becomes a challenge
And even if I’m standing straight up
I still feel off balance
But you see I don’t drink
It’s hard fighting the demons now
Just one sip and I wouldn’t have the strength to keep them down

Ok forgot the sip
Maybe I should match it up
Would getting high
Help me hide what I feel
Because if it will
Maybe I’ll roll it up
And get lost in the clouds
And chock on the smoke
Forget the cup it always burn my throat
Yes maybe drugs will help
I should smoke until my eyes get low
And until there’s no more left to pull from
It’s a dubbie a roach in my hand
But I have connects
So I’d always have an endless high
How many hits would it take
Until my memories vanish and erase
How many blunts in a day
Until I can’t remember what’s hurting me today
Tell me is smoking the answer
The thing is I don’t smoke
So what should I do
I don’t have a clue