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Leonard Green Aug 2013
Luv ya sista, my sista
For the crutch I sometimes need

Luv ya sista, my sista
For the advice I fear to heed

Luv ya sista, my sista
For the beacon I found in life

Luv ya sista, my sista
For the cross I bear no strife

Luv ya sista, my sista
For the calm I now know

Luv ya sista, my sista
For in my words I have no foes

“L” is the life seen through your eyez
“U” is the usual way of your disguise
“V” is the vibrancy in your raps
“Y” is the youth of your laugh
“A” is the angelic nature of your persona
“S” is the soul exhibited and I wanna…
“I” is the influence on your herd
“S” is the sense common to your words
“T” is the torment quelled by your caring
“A” is the allure undeniable to your daring.
Dedicated to the many favors of women who try to love us although there are times it may be difficult to do so because we are from Mars...
tonight we gather
to mark a
commencement day

four decades on
from a late June
afternoon

exchanging
embraces and
bon voyage wishes

departing a grand
chandeliered Rivoli
embarcadero

bound
to glorious
destinations

our bold sails
welling with
youthful
exuberance
in pursuit of
dreams
and intrepid
endeavors

our life
journeys
are blessed
with rich
abundance,
the grace of
challenge and
the gift of days

this evening
as we reconnect
to share the joys
and wisdom gleaned
from well lived lives
we will also celebrate
in multicolored splendor
the lives of classmates
who have commenced
journeys to other
destinations

though their
earthly sojourn
is complete
passed friends
remain alive
in our memory

surely the spirits
of the beloved
will walk this
room tonight

forever young
their quiet presence
will gently touch
tender hearts

they’ll appear
as they once looked
on their finest day

and as we relive
the bits of our lives
we shared with
one another

we may feel
the grasp of a
warm hand
as we once did
during that
snowy evening
west end walk

we’ll dance with them again
around Tamblyn Field bonfires
gyrating in a shared
ecstatic ebullience

we’ll applaud most likely
to succeed lives
most beautiful smiles
and crack up
to the hilarity of
class clown jokes

we’ll taste the kiss
of an after dark
Lincoln Park
rendezvous

groove to the
rock steady
beat of a
bad company tune  

we’ll submerge again
in a Yellow Submarine
to embark on an epic
Greenwich Village
journey

we’ll roll down
the shore on old
Thunder Road
windows open
hair blowin
radio blastin

we’ll taste the sweet sip
of Cherry Cokes
and Root Beer floats
at Roadrunners

chasing lost love salty tears
spilled over ***** upperclass home boys
and the soft blush sentiment of a
first French kiss

wouldn't it be nice
to swoon to the
fantasy and
winsome yearnings
of favorite
summer songs

filling our head’s
with mind
blowing collages
starring
team mates
drama club
second takes
heady chess club
checkmates

we’ll marvel at the disruption of
premillennial breakthrough science projects
created by pocket protected slide ruling
entrepreneurial math wizards

we'll recall droll gossip
by drab hall lockers
dim gym showers
awkward dances
Yippie people power

patriotic assemblies
cool sharp dressers
right on brother
Que Pasa lil sista

rock and roll album covers
Simon and Garfunkel poetics
Go Go Boots kickin
FM radio psychedelics

Midnight Confessions
emphatically blared
from the cafeteria jukebox
Civil Rights, Earth Day
and righteous
anti war activism

tribes of hoods, Ra’s,
jocks, artistes and tie dye hippies
everything is groovy
lets get a sandwich at Ernie’s

first carnal explorations
Moody Blue Tuesday trysts
man could she speak German
boy do I dig her dress

we did hard time together
at split session detention centers
ate chocolate chip cookies
cracked up to Mr. Thomas’s
Ides of March tragedy

took first tokes and
sips of Boones Farm
we partied hard
and did no harm

admired academic brainiacs
and the civic commitment
of student govie reps
shut down the gubmint
was never a threat 

basketball rumbles
Bulldog football
**** Ludwig soccer teams
nimble cheerleaders

leggy majorettes
kick *** marching band fanfares
compelling masquer presentments
Park Avenue wayfarers

they were
crew mates
on The Soul Boat
rode shotgun
to Midnight Rambler
Doobie Concerts

cruised hard in
the Root Hog
Rat Raced Louie
in tiny white Pintos

we booked
many a mile
with our lost
friends

on the road to
this evening

authoring
volumes of
fabled odysseys
and fantastic
recollections

their stories
are our stories
telling our stories
keeps them alive

some may say
gone too soon
but the measure of
a well lived life
is not counted
in days, nor
accomplishments

but how one has loved
and how much one was loved

quietly there
always with us
forever to be
a wholesome
part of us

as the brothers
from Cooley High
would say

lets tip a sip
for the brothers
and sisters who
ain’t here….

God bless
Godspeed
enjoy the evening
vaya con dios mis amigos

Music Selection:
Pat Metheny
Mas Alla


RHS 74
Class Reunion
Elks Club
Rutherford
11/29/14
I am somebody
Shot in the Head...
Found the bullets.
Coroner Said.
A child of God struck dead.
Gang related disputing Fools.
Aiming cowardly bullets right at you.
I guess praying prayers just won't do.
There is no safe in these hard knocks realities' Truths.
Our Sista child!
Our mother child!
All the while the bodies pile.
Her body now adds to that 'the shootings aren't as bad as last year' body count.
Can't even stand anywhere in your city NOW?
Something has to truly give.
There's a plague of rigid legalities, relaxed moralities, and political realities stealing the 'safe' from our dying breed.
The Black man withering away in siphoning inequalities.
Doubling unemployment stretches outward like a statistical wild fire....
Our present fact.
There is a genocidal component to these criminal acts.


Copyrighted (C)

Published in the 2018 Edition of the Reconstructed Literary and Visual Journal at Governors State University.
This poem addresses how gun violence steals away the hope and dreams from the African American Community.
SelinaSharday May 2021
Good morning sunlight!
When you get up in the morning
to go out to work to struggle to fight.
To see you is such delight!
No matter what your personal strife.
Your about that earning a living to make a good life.
Your a man.. Of passion love and support.
Your dedication who could abort.
I admire, Your stability the strength and fire.
Keep laboring hard staying on your grind.
Doing what you need to to have peace of mind.
may our lil naughty behaviors be forgiven.
As grace puts us in a better needful state within.
Meaning keeping emotions in check
spirit cleansed to come correct.
Your passion I can't resist and
your way seems so perfect.
A friendship I can't reject!
If your fat or thin, You'd still be adorable and lovable.
So hard to scold.
Just wanta keep you your so superfly ...
Your so handsome I like your style I won't lie.
Creamy brown sensation
you rock my inner nations,
Hey Mister can a Sista..
Just roll wit cha.
From day One I knew.
There was something special about you!
sharday3.. the rosepoet..
hanging out with u, chilling with yah, can i hang tight wit cha.
Max Neumann  Aug 2021
Rockfall
Max Neumann Aug 2021
splinter of existence creepin' thru skin
when judgement day is scarin' ya guys
temples beatin' 888 beats per minute
as dreams of shelter be passin' by

remember merciless bob, the hyena?
used to shoot bullets like rashid stoogie
always mind da project's family tree, b
watts to frankfurt via lima, diz how we be

brothaz, almans, multihood, escalade in chrome
osmans *** some, naber abi, bana parayi ver
you won't survive the massacre of greed
palms grow inside frankfurt's wildlife

GBS, TPB, LA MINA, HOLZI, NORDI, BOKI
dey be too fierce for dem knocko boys
no jammin', silver colts in montenegro
special forces, dejan, heroine, grenades

choki predicted da richness, we be floatin'
ari goldman tower, sandstone, platinum coke
yugos, habibis, moruks, almans, pashto
marokks, habeshas, albans and kurds

man bites dog, anti-traitor, snares
lacerated cable, flashdeath in red and blue
palermo, cosa nostra, secret shipment
da antagonist be chained 'gainst ya brain, bro

we tear up pavements since we rule da planet
massacres, new age, 36ers, crenshaw, headrush
day of vendetta bros, senait forgot how to *** back
street dust be what ya smellin' in da projectz

bent body, similar to deceased city doves
her soul be glintin' among da 5-0 sirens
large scale operation, silverblack corpses
black dots in front of ya eyes, sista

harlem river houses, homeshadows, dough
the ghetto raises fierce and bloodthirsty men
2 for 60, flip it into 90 and mind the cut, kwame
ya peeps gotta eat, and don't forget youse momz

let's build towers from all dem stacks, luv bellywood
our camouflage be immaculate like 90% pure
rides on champagne in times of evil blood
we light up the night and rightfully keep turf

our home be 36 souls away, slums and the hamptons
in the kitchen, da fiend's addiction is boiling
e guitar sounds, we overrun ya people
and don't ya fear jail, we reign institutionz
René Mutumé Aug 2013
Nineteen twenty ways
to love the same photo, I
remember, it all.

The blubbering moon,
was thumping like itself;
no matter, we go!

We entered the room,
and we became an image,
and drank until full.

Illuminating
hot seat, the material
IKEA, alone,

pristine sounds of loss,
a man and woman dancing
each others eyes, there.

Midnight morning fly,
buzzing flea-like, almost gone.
My window opens.

All the yakking dead.
My porch- old wood and sunset,
smoke diving within.

Suffocate us sea!
If you dare drink what we have!
Our stomachs fit you!

The Titanic floats,
the night swim will carry us,
calmly to ourselves.

Opaque sea-gulls fly;
we are but moon beams seeking.
Igniting ripples.

The taste of salt shouts,
it devours our tiredness.
Running beside us.

Half shore nearing us,
no other bodies near us,
we know only peace.

Inside our madness
there is every dream which wakes
wet steps, standing up.

Skin inked by needle,
below your growing wild hair,
moving, as it stays,

A religious book,
its pages moving in wind,
brown with gentle time.

Negative film roll,
opal, and doused with liquid,
so we are, so still.

Permeating dream
a leaf from burning tree branch
settling in grass.

Sudden flower bloom,
I watch you grow as days change.
Time, can never be.

Holocaustic love,
returning to the swap mind,
nothing stays buried.

The last beggar hangs,
he was a poet, a friend.
Servant girl watching.

Holograph song sings,
she is more awake than words.
I smile back at her.

Doorless buildings shine,
travelling up beyond us,
the meeting begins.

The office suite melts,
only listening to data.
So much for talking…

Peyote smoked.
Old tribes knowing how it goes.
Perfectly happy.

Madigras come now!
Alive smokin drunk street life!
Masks bleeding with ghosts.

Mine, yours, lit by fire.
Lets join the raining parade,
and grab a chicken.

They do it in the ethereal range of our eye’s linking hands,
our bodies swaying to the din of infinite types of drum life,
happy to be ours, enough to fill every street with realms,
packed dead-masked as New Orleans is definitely new my love – - !
the bar door requires a kick from our ripened legs,
it shatters the sweat stairs as we walk down finding the ground
inside leaving the painted parade to flood in on itself,
the chorus is tap tap tapped and stamped by the bar-man ready here
to cool us down and let us choose from any drink we wish.

In thick New Orleans accent he says:

“You been swimmin’ in the big Bayou brotha-sista.”

But it’s enough for us to answer him from the photo behind his bar.

We let him touch us, we sit frozen in front of a box camera and wonder
what’ll happen as the bulb flashes.

I pull ma Creole queen into me, as all galllreees open brotha-sista!

The photo be taken quick enough to ****** life from shotgun.

You’ll just keep on sittin there wontcha ma cher,
while these gumbo ya-ya come down ma stairs.

**** Mardi graaa…

A couple come down the wooden stairs.

Helping each other stand from too much street juice.

Looking back from the photo the barman knows that the couple
heard him talking, they slap down on the bar stools as he kisses the
photo of him and his wife.

“Well they be a truer than you or me cher, dontcha think?”

He says smiling back, more cheer than teeth, as the conversation begins,
undisturbed by the pulsing sounds from above.
jason galt  Dec 2015
Cowgirl
jason galt Dec 2015
That cowgirl won’t go
Won’t ride
Won’t die
Sittin’ on the pisspot in a one horse town
Salient sista, she sees them cowpokes
And they do their damndest to draw her attention
Oh, she’s seen chairs thrown, barfights break out
And the piano man run away
Sometimes they shoot the others down
All for the chance to pay two dollars
To lay with the only cowgirl in town
She’s the Queen Sheba of the saloon girls
****, loose and fast
Motherly and tender, it’s all for the askin
Sanctified or sinister, that cowgirl won’t go
Won’t ride
Won’t die
I asked her to marry me
Many times before
She laughed and said, “Honey, you can’t have me.”
In my naïveté I thought I could change her wayward ways
Domesticate her like I’d break a young filly
All the thoughts of getting off the trail, building a house,
Settling down and starting a family.
But that cowgirl won’t go
Won’t ride
Won’t die
Tashea Young Mar 2017
Hey king
Just wanna ask you a few things
Because I noticed lately that vibe between us has been changing.
My first question is,  To you does my love still mean anything?
Like , I use to be able to feel you in my being....
And you were the man that my subconscious created in my dreams brought to reality
But that feeling has faded  and I feel quite jaded.
I mean I been patient with you I have waited
Does our human hearts no longer connect one to  another feeling related?
Are you not pleased with my soul being naked?
Things haven't been as good as it once seamed
I mean, Have you lost interest?
Does the soothing sound of my voice no longer put the stress of your mind at rest?
Are you not impressed by the offerings of my very Best?
Cause I'm in a place of loneliness.
And You were once My sunshine but now that you are gone I'm the forced to shine my moonlight on Painted sky of my own  darkness.
I'm sitting here with only memories of you and I as I reminisce
While missing our hour long conversations filled with  love and tenderness that ignited a fire burning with bliss.
And with your deep, smooth, and sensual voice you caressed my heart until my mind relentlessly undressed.
And at the thought of you my love ticker rapidly beats outside the ***** of chest.
Just to know A man like you I was sincerely blessed.
but now I must Confess that Me being without you I have turned into a mess.
What happened?
I thought what we felt was beyond the physical attraction.
Because of the way you had my all of me reactin
as if I were the ship amongst the sea And you were my captain.
Maybe I'm just overeactin
Or maybe I just Didn't met the standards of your satisfaction.

So can you please tell me did our seed of affection not sprout?
Have we reached a love drought?
Can you sense my fears and doubts?
What is this silent treatment about?
Like can you help a sista out?
On the same island but in a completely different world;
Where the ocean is your own;
Where the snapping of cameras, and the shouts of "Oh look a turtle"
Are non-existent.

A family has been our friends for years,
a beach house they were letting us use,
just one week twice in the year,
Since a child I played through the years,
The old house close to shore.

Tutu came to enjoy Halloween with us,
And on my birthday we built tiny Hawaiian style leaf huts;
So many memories in this lovely place,
I always smile when I hear the name.

My sister's Halloween birthday;
a spooky event that we all look forward to;
hanging black bats,
orange and black banners stream beautifully through the air,
a moldy old witch's broom lay in the corner of the room.
school friends, brothers of sisters, parents, animals,
they all gather and enjoy this Halloween with us.

costume contests are never dull,
and when we all get into it,
we don’t care who the winner is.

Foggy gray smoke rises as we prep the smoldering coals,
Mom, tutu, and the girls get fluffy marshmallows,
chocolate, and gram crackers.

Boys are now men as they tirelessly shovel sand
and haul chairs for the fire,
just like old Hawaiians we sat, ate, danced to music,
and laughed the night away.

When the moon set, and the period of twilight was upon us;
It was prank warfare for the boys,
and though our army was weaker,
less in number, less intelligent, and had less to work with,
We would emerge victorious, even if the girls dominated the night,
with whip cream, and smoke bombs,
we took the back the morning with
jump scares, and frozen clothes
...
After that,we inevitably lost.

The beach,
so beautiful with its silvery blue waves,
dad says
"eh bradas, why you not in da ocean, riding the waves"
and we all dash to the shore sand flying on the people running behind us,
until I hear a shrill shriek behind us,
"da man-o-wars brah, de got my sista"
the almost clear blue bubble with a royal blue tail spanning 3 feet long,
it wrapped around her leg,
scrambled, like the golden brown egg I had that morning,
that was the only way I could describe how quickly
I ran the pull that sucker off,
and apparently the man-o-war wanted to play tug-o-war,
after a minute of pulling, it was off,
my sister,
sobbing while my dad disinfected the sting.

So many good times I've had at this place,
this brown, multi-roomed, stone tiled beach house,
It really is, my home away from home.
I wrote this poem about a beach house my family was allowed to use twice in a year to throw parties and relax in, I grew up knowing how special this place was, and how close I kept it to my heart.
Soulfull Apr 2013
Insecurities

I rest
Comfortably
In my Gods blessings
I see
You may not agree
Still
You stay talkin' bout me?
Ain't it a sight to see
A woman who lacks the insecurities
You slap upon your ***
Like graffiti tags to concrete
My freedom is fortified
Leaving you mortified
By the comparisons
But then again
I won't condescend
I won't react and attack
With the same ******* you extend
Instead may I recommend
Some knowledge
From one sista to another:

Much can be achieved
When you let go of the beliefs
Imposed by those
Who know
No other way
To be


(c) 2010. Composed by Soulfull. Soulful Synergy, LLC.
Poetictunes  Feb 2016
A sista
Poetictunes Feb 2016
What do you see when you look at me?
Do you see a black girl who's confined by the long length of her weave and her lashes?
Or do you see a strong black intelligent girl who's sophisticated and classy?
When I walk its like smooth jazz but sassy.
I might roll my neck when I speak,
and put z's on the end of my words.
Truth is, I didn't grow up in the suburbs.
But, don't be fooled by my looks.
And, No I did not attend a private school
but, I can school all of you fools by the books.
Cause the color of my skin does not define the person I am within.
So I ask our black men,
What do you see when your looking at a sister like me?
Is it my lips or my hips?
My brown eyes or my thighs?
That attracts your eyes when you see me walking.
I am not to be categorize nor critized,
Cause I am, the coca carmel syrup
That's sweeter than orange pumpkin pies.
Strength lies within this temple,  you must not know.

— The End —