I been scarred and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
   Snow has friz me,
   Sun has baked me,

Looks like between 'em they done
   Tried to make me

Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'--
   But I don't care!
   I'm still here!

I could take the Harlem night
and wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue busses,
Taxis, subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem's heartbeat,
Make a drumbeat,
Put it on a record, let it whirl,
And while we listen to it play,
Dance with you till day--
Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl.

The gold moth did not love him
So, gorgeous, she flew away.
But the gray moth circled the flame
       Until the break of day.
And then, with wings like a dead desire,
She fell, fire-caught, into the flame.

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
     I heard a ***** play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
     He did a lazy sway . . .
     He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
     O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
     Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
     O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that ***** sing, that old piano moan--
     "Ain't got nobody in all this world,
       Ain't got nobody but ma self.
       I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
       And put ma troubles on the shelf."

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more--
     "I got the Weary Blues
       And I can't be satisfied.
       Got the Weary Blues
       And can't be satisfied--
       I ain't happy no mo'
       And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.

Our little encounter
Keeps crossing my mind
I try to push thoughts away
And I don't know why

You're under my skin now

Keep thinking about
That fire in your eyes
The sensual aggression in your arms
As they manipulated my body
From side to side

Your breath heavy and hot
In my ear
Succulent lips
Fused into mine
Wordlessly begging for more
with each kiss

And your intuitive hands
Exploring me
In all the right places
As I put my back in a slow grind
And you make those **** faces
Looking up at me

Enticing goosebumps
Escalating towards ecstasy
With each ****** and each pump

Of those hips
My legs split around them
Our bodies slick and unrelenting

Bending to your will
You make me feel like
My body is on vibrate
Any wrong you want done right

I'd invite you between the sheets with me again
Any day and or night

Finally after a long winter
And the wavering weather
The weary wait is over
Walking through green grass
Moisture tickles the tips of my toes
As I take a deep breathe of air
Through the nostrils of my nose
A bird is perched upon a light pole
But its chirps seem rather frightful
They don’t sound very delightful
In the middle of conversation
I stop, I stutter, and I stammer
I’m enamored by that image
Spring is here and finally sprung
But the bird’s happiness is hung
Its like I could relate to the bird
I have been waiting patiently
For an answer important to me
While this bright and beautiful bird
Has been up there perched and enduring
Of this hypocritical weather
Waiting for a summer that wont come
As have I been long enduring
During this silent conversation
One day I feel its going one way
The next its going another
These feeling are becoming mundane
As I also wait for something
Something that probably wont come.