For some reason, my black love is tainted.
What I mean is; it’s stale and lonely, not reciprocal.
I stand my ground, I speak my truth. Like lightning
and thunder, breaking branches forcing him to look my way.
Yet and still, those same branches, break into pieces forcing him to look away; away from the goodness of my heart, away from the responsibility of being good to me.

He’s afraid of my stance, afraid of me for being who I am.
He is afraid of being good to me, afraid to ease into my being.
He is totally afraid to be only mine, be only my days, nights, weekends and holidays.
He is afraid to own up to being one with me, being my man with no strings included.
He is wrong, wrong on so many adult levels. He is too old to play games.
Too old to play games with emotions like mine; grown up emotions that
deserve the best respect, grown up emotions that hail to my queeness.
I, being the queen that I am, deserves a top notch, down for me king.
Black or white, yellow or green, my tainted black love deserves happiness.
Happiness the explodes inside of me, radiating the glow of my sweet black love, my sweet black touch, my sweet blackness period!

My black love from what I can see is free for the giving, yet not so easily given.
I hold back my heart, I cover my soul, and I lay a dark blanket across my threshold so his feet won’t stump a hole in my heart.
Sometimes I slip and let him through; thinking I finally met my king. I slipped big time, I believed what he said, I believed what he did, I believed……….In him
Enough. Enough to know or should have known that this **** fool was using me.
My black love deserves so much better. My black love kicked his *** to the curb, my black love stands alone. My black love is too good to use up. My blackened love is taking a break, looking forward to the day that my king comes. I deserve to be happy; I am too good at being who I am.
Those who dissed the goodness of this black love will never experience my blackness again.

They will never experience my goodness, my blackness come alive inside of them.
My black love is mine to keep, mine to share, mine to let go when my king walks in.
My black love is lonely right now, my black love is mine to keep.
My blackness is hard to receive, but too hard to give away to just  any man.
My black love is like fire and lightening. Once you experience my power, you close your eyes and walk away. I dare you to step to my black love.
I dare you to stay and weather my storm.

crocus mist
jump on snow pulps
for early zebras

pelican view
I stream on ice willows
for yellow peat

rain pit
I stalk a daffodil hollow
for feather bulbs

I feel free when it’s windy
I feel warm when it’s cold
I feel love when it’s stormy
When it’s calm I get bored

I am weather dependent
Emotionally broke
Stay with me and surrender
When the lightning stroke

I like feel of the wind gust
Blowing right in the face
Moves all worries behind
Then they washed with the rain

I am weather dependent
Emotional wreck
When it’s calm I am scared
Oh, please Wind - blow again

The clouds exude tears as a sign of God's sorrow.
For the fate of mankind in the hands of the morrow.
For mankind's heart has grow callused;
With his eyes set on greed.
Forsaking God's goodness
For all his lustful needs.

All the while the earth moans and it groans.
As mankind's heart is compared with the hardness of stone.
Consumed and devoured by the lusts of the flesh.
An expulsion of THE LORD;
A refusal to mesh.

Disease and strife have set in -
A move oh so bold.
As mankind grows more distant,
Isolated and cold.
And the skies continue to weep as man struggles to fight.
Darkness envelops the lands -
Darkness blots out the light.

Will the battle be fought?
Will mankind ever win?
Will the skies clear up
As man conquers his sin?

May he lay down his sin -
Then turn face and run.
Then may THE LORD show him mercy
And unveil THE SUN!

May the harsh weather of sin
Finally be cleared.
So that mankind's unclear future
Have no need to be feared.

it does not know
which direction to point
so many mouths
so many opinions

the whole afternoon
sitting on my neighbor's roof
it just keeps vacillating
and whining

the whole afternoon
I have been waiting
for it to find a foothold
and to point its spearhead of anger
directly at the heart
of the storm

Rain befalls the afternoon like a heavy blanket
A blanket under which I rest
Legs crossed and crossed and crossed
Neck curved as a comma,
The smallest body you have seen

Nothing is mine
My arms, my hands, my head
The water that falls
Lands on nothing that belongs

Nothing is ours
The sky, the ground, the air
Skin becomes wet
Skin and water with no owner