What is it so that

shakes me?

Does no sleep invoke

such haste things?

& how is it

your eyes can wake me?

Maybe

somethin’ about them take me.

Something beautifully intelligent

&

kind.

Something,

in your eyes.

Two souls connected
Or is it only one shared?
Shared spaces, place, people, and cares
The person in my room
Filling up a great space
Knowing always what to say
Always just what I need to hear
Who keeps me grounded and sane
Who understands my thoughts and my pains.

The connections are there
With this soul who deserves it all.
Who deserves her own day
Her own life
Her own fears
Her own happiness
Her own tears.
All of it hers, not to be shared with another
Unless she gives them to deserving others.

I go from one long distance relationship to another
Knowing it won’t be easy
But it is worth the troubles
The Skype dates and long calls
Making the distance seem shorter.
The miles do not matter
For we have built a fortress.
Our relationship stands strong
Because we have made it so
And even though I will have to go
I will always be near
Connected by a soul given so graciously;
Loving words embedded within.
Keeping us strong and unwavering
Together, forever, until the end.

You spot her on the dance floor
Her milky skin reflects the glowing
light of green lasers.  Her eyes are
closed, as she absorbs the beat. The
bass travels across the floor and up
through her legs as she tilts her
head up in ecstasy.

She is in a world all her own. She
drowns out the crowd, within her
own frequency she moves her feet
to the beat that the DJ creates. Her
hips sway, creating vacuums of
energy and drawing people closer
to her essence.

She sweats  away her feelings of
insecurity, loneliness, and regret.
The acid on her tongue does not
corrode her skin, though it does
seem to melt away her inhibitions.  
Maybe her clothes, if she's in the mood

She knows all the boys are watching
her. Maybe if she's lucky, there's a man
as well. Someone who can attune
himself to her rhythm and grasp
her complexity. There will be sweet
synchronization as they create sin
waves in between the sheets.

This is her release
Tomorrow
She will be a hair stylist
She will be a nurse
She will be a lawyer

But tonight?

She's alive

A cloudy memory
Dances in my head
I am not sure who all is there
Or what all is said.
I see lots of colors
So, so many faces
I do not know what is happening
Just that this is going places.
I know we were next to each other
I know I felt something new
I was not sure at all what is was
And I had no idea what to do.
I waited four years to let it show
I was so scared of the result
Of what that feeling could mean
When my heart came to a halt.
I let you make the first move
I had no idea if you felt it too
In the same way I did
If you knew that I wanted you.
I didn’t have to courage
I didn’t know what I should do
I was scared of what it meant
I was terrified to lose you.
But one kiss changed it all
There is no going back now
No longer afraid of what could happen
My only question is how.
How can I love someone this much?
How come I didn’t do this long ago?
I love you so much and it only grows
And I will never let you go.
This is something to cherish
Something to hold on tight to
And I promise I will never let go; never.
I will always be here for you.

Let me Love U...

     Like the first sip of a cappuccino
          In the early morning
     Leaving froth upon your lips.

     Like the passion of salsa music
          On a Saturday night
     Causing you to move your hips.

Let me Love U...

     Like the thrill of a roller coaster
          Playfully teasing
     As you approach the peak.

     Like a precision guided missile
          Causing an explosion
     With the target I seek.

Let me Love U...
  
     Like a cool ocean breeze
          Caressing your skin
     Inducing relaxation.

     Like a personal sun beam
          Warming you
     To complete satisfaction.

©  Tina Thompson

The Commercial says:

Collect the whole set!
Buy Tommy Toddler™! –Now says 6 gibberish phrases!
Buy Hannah Housewife™! –Laundry basket and stove included!
Buy Stanley Stepdad™! –Comes with realistic child abusing action!
Buy Cole, the College Student™! –Life-like *** and beer ***** scent!
It says: Buy the whole family.

Batteries not rechargeable, but included. Residing inside.
No assembly required unless buying Ralph the Retired™ – in which case,
Go to the hospital and inquire, am I covered ?
Have I expired ?

At the store I’d, see them all sorted, and sordid, clumped in little bins. Together.
Sort of. See,
Lawyers, and scientists, and authors were all in higher priced bins.
I felt shorted.
A cheap skate like me couldn’t afford it, wait-
there are the janitors, soldiers, and waitresses, each only a quarter.

Somewhere in Taiwan, thin children wont to wanting,
Are making Model Americans.
Patching together assembly-line-lives, no breaks inbetween,
Workers named High School, College, and Career sew mini seams.
So many seem, to delight in dreaming the American Dream,
To leave earthly bodies and become pristine; little dolls.
Toys colored C.R.E.A.M.

“…and the home of the brave!” ?
maybe, home of the depraved.
Home of the pre-made, pre-packaged, and
Enslaved.
Displayed, in plastic tombs engraved. With phrases like:
Save! 50% off!
or perhaps it’s 50 stars off.
50 stars that are missin.
Cuz Old Glory sure looks like a **** question mark ( ?)
End transmission.
Restart television with Remote Control.

Sometimes words don’t work,
And aren’t worth dirt.
But I’ll try anyways,
And be amazed at the words
I just vent with intense invention.
That I phrase so crisply
You couldn’t have missed me
Nor my words, that breech your
Ears and mouth alike,
Forcing you to swallow,
Til your stomachs full
And my head is hollow.
And the seed planted in you
Makes you realize
Each of these ties
For which we live and die
Mean nothing without the worth;
Of words.

In school, they used to teach us phrases like:
The fast car, or, The big tree.
But never did they mention the man who,
Upon losing his education like his keys,
Takes a fast car into a big tree-
On purpose.

Then, in school, they taught us drugs are bad,
*** is dope, crack is wack.
Yet never did they once speak of the father who,
Uses drugs to feed his kids,
so that they grow and feed their kids too-
Through purpose.

And, in school, they showed us pictures.
Of Syphilis and AIDS,
To scare us.
But, once again, the graphs and facts were missing,
As though seeing was trespassing upon some truth-
Some purpose.

So I pick up a pen and write:
A suicide story, a poem from the block.
And I sketch a Polaroid of a shaken scene,
Of the things I am not. So that I,
Yes I may lead a life-
With purpose.