"flava" poems
She came from a favela
Steep slope above Rio
Color of dark chocolate
And vanilla of mestizo
Worked the narrow streets
Walked them like a queen
Bad boys knew her beats
Her stir did leave a sheen
In translucent woven sheets
Swaying hips and pouted lips
Bad cops along her favela beat
Always whistling as they glimpse
Flava of favela became queen
Said so long to to steep streets
Tin built hut and streets unclean
Became the Queen of Rio
r 18Sept13
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
WSQF:
Battle of the Bands
tonight we jam, it's the battle of the bands
there's smoke on the stage ***** on the stands
smoke in the rafters, from puffin live
this crowd is ready to rock and jive
AB:
One guitar in hand,
Calling you out animantium plans,
Of having rocktastic fans,
Tattoos and silver lens,
Naked babies,
Naked babies,
Naked babies.
WSQF:
this joint is rockin'
and we be jammin'
some slam dance ritual
and hip hop breakin'
who's gonna take it?
who's gonna take it?
alright...take it to the bridge!
AB:
There is no stoppin what we doin,
Do you smell us when were cookin,
Serving you a hot plate this funkalicious music,
Some old skool flava,
Let us see if you can take it,
All you gotta bop it , move it ,break it,
WSQF:
gonna run some crazy riffs across your brain
sweet heavy metal ..drive you insane
step up the action
raise the stakes
let's see if you got what it takes
AB:
Lead guitarist,
Got a jazzy a vocal,
Bass solos and drums knockin in your ear holes,
Fresh lyrics on a platter,
Cut up nicely,
In to pieces of rock heaven,
Its time to get godly,
WSQF:
home boyz gonna kick it
take it to the next plateau
while your jammin'...face dancer
play those licks real slow
the soul of creation
right there in your hands
this pure fusion..the battle of the bands!
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
Boy why you hiding, why you hiding under a shadow
Those eyes tell me a truth as full as your lips
Don’t you hide the secret to the treasure in San Juan
A Jewel of the hips that sway, curvaceous being of fire
The touch surrounding flames like the sand and the night and the beach
Boy o boy, can’t wait to tell you boy, the place I wanna reach
The home I wanna build, for us and ours, with this heart full of light
Boy why you fight, why you push me away
Day one you teased me with smooches
Your touch tickled my brain to the point of meltdown
But now my little angel-dust, must bust out a new foot to lean on and learn from
Cuz his mortal human has crept into the shadow of your eyes
And the secret of your lies? The ways that you say, please baby stay
Those grunts out my mouth, the groans in my pillow, musky aroma of love
Fascinating a swag so fresh and so familiar, surprises left and right of the one you already knew
Smooth flesh encasing a suave flava just waiting to burst out
O Boy why you cry, why you tearing on my shoulder
Enable our fable to end happily ever after
The dance that shows one to the other
We are bare in the flow of the rhythm!
Rhythm I never had but somehow learned following your eyes and the curves of your flames
But now it sizzles, your eyes unknown
Lips sewn and wasted, a body so stiff and pale
Boy where are you?
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 11:31 PM UTC
How much you loved garlic salt on your pizza
$5.00 thin crust from the frozen aisle was pushing luxury.
Reliable Red Baron $3.33
You started to clean after I moved in and began to organize
I remember all the dust collecting on your VHS collection. Never mind it was ******* 2008.
your white and black cat, Flava flav would scratch at the bedroom door every morning
Who gives a **** about these memories except you and me...
Edit
Treason
Extra hands on my body
Confusion manipulating my character
Midnight arguments
The dichotomy of loaded words
And smoking ****** sweetness
Creativity scattered like cheap confetti
On ***** gas station asphalt
I was your prosecutor
Between painfully vulnerable kisses and abandonment issues
Stubborn lonely people with delusional detours for ambitions
I was the exotic poet to your Tom Waits
the **** alternating between affection and suitcase packing
Cindy Lauper's video and my impressionable little girl mind
23 years later lost in its transcendence
You are not my mirror
You are not my soul mate
You are just this one guy who cares about me
I make inappropriate jokes
You make me laugh
You make me cry and I think of my father
I lie just like my mother
Between the fights
Stained sheets
You shout
Private expressions
Your perfect mouth
Inside the models of ****** parents we replace in a new generation and ***** about
I need you
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
What I cannot find… but am determined… to get back to…
Is not to be confused with
Flavor…
Like hot sauce or vanilla… which can be found at any market…
No…
What I seem to have misplaced is
My Flava
Spelled F-L-A-V-A
And is one of a kind… gifted to me only…
Not to be confused with any other FLAVA
Cuz it is mine…
And without it…
Can barely string a sentence together… and am lost…
As from this springs my issue… and
Without my issue… just don’t know…
Whether to rhyme or to flow…
Wax melodic or staccato…
Iambic pentameter to coax you to
Come with / me and / and be / my love…No- wait...
That’s not it at all-
Have no need of
You being my love… or loving my being…
Which is where FLAVA comes in…
Cuz FLAVA don’t give a ****
Flava just is…
Unlike consciousness…
Or the awareness of one’s own
Existence…that just wants not to be a
Casualty… and die with the other dead ones…
Who were (by the way) dead long before they
Resigned themselves to undertake the responsibility
Of laying the hell down…
But FLAVA…
FLAVA cannot die… so
I know it’s there… it’s just…
Hiding subliminally…
Under some old debris…
Beneath the ruins of what used to be me…and
When I find it…will then add some FLAVOR
(not to be confused with FLAVA)
…sprinkle some Cayenne Pepper… make it even HOTTER
…fold in some Cinnamon… make it even SEXIER… and
Continue to season…
‘til it feels like ME again…
One of a kind FLAVA…
Gifted to me only…
Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is mine…
Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is me…
Gotta get back to me…
.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 9:27 AM UTC
Never focus on
what isn't for you
but wat is...
Put it on your back
and.. take tf off..
Keep it close
never lose your flavor..
That's all anyone is ever
gonna remember...
Yo Flava..
Playa
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 1:02 AM UTC
when another day is ****** again
red heavens collapse over your head
cause devil is staring at you
while you're rushing to the subway
doomed to catch it, morning strugglez
you and your people are in distress
good friends died and they keep dying
life was, is and remains a battle field
you awoke because of hunger and curiosity
which kind of dream was that? pushing tons
residing in a snowwhite castle, no stains
yachts across, attitude like klitschkos
reality bites: your inner voice is calling you
take a shower! eat! go to work and prosper!
in truth you work for hard-hearted vultures
wearing suits, spreading lies, for sure
you have to sell tv sets via phone
****** payment, no insurance, usa-flava
but you bust your *** for it, still unable
to buy new sneakers for your daughter
all second hand, so at school she is being mobbed
they steal her dignity, beat her up, she's twelve
eight o'clock in the morning, and she is moaning
swollen rips, hair teared out, a broken jawbone
no school mate is helping her, ambulance and sirens
your daughter faints, as you're rushing to the hospital
and when you see her abused, you decide to take vengeance
the night is red, heavens collapse over your head
devil is no more staring, you and him take action
you buy a weapon, 40 cal, bleeding anger, danger
but you won't turn back, never acting like a coward
in the park, near the river, you can find them ******** sitting
loading the gun, slowly moving, avoid any sound
the rest is history, your story, never feeling sorry
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 1:08 AM UTC
Cantaba.
Cantaba. Y nadie oía
los sónes que cantaba.
Metido por la noche
los hilos teje de su cántiga:
hilos de bronce que son los hilos ásperos de su tedio;
hilos de sangre de su corazón,
hilos de laboriosa araña
-hilos de seda- que es el ensueño que se arrebuja
bajo su melena flava.
Metido por la noche que le rodea
con mallas de silencio, -muelles
sillones de velludo-, mallas
caniciosas como manos queridas
sobre la sien afiebrada:
Cantaba.
Cantaba. Y nadie oía
los sónes que cantaba.
Su voz es como el eco de inauditas
músicas, ni en los sueños sospechadas.
¿Tañer de amorosas guzlas
moriscas? ¿De sacabuches y de flautas
pastorales, y de violas de amor?
O el jadear ciclópeo del órgano
que tientan los dedos o las zarpas
de Bach y Haendel y de Franck? ¿O el prodigio
insólito que logra de la nada
el milagro de la sinfonía
donde no se funden y todas las voces cantan?
Su voz es como el eco de inauditas
músicas ni en los sueños sospechadas:
o de músicas mútilas
urdidas en la propia fábrica
loca, de su cabeza:
porque se mata lo que se ama,
decía -mordicante- el Réprobo:
música supliciada!
Cantaba.
Cantaba. Y nadie oía
los sónes que cantaba.
Ni la selva, ni la noche le oía,
ni tú, ni nadie, ni nada!
¿Le oía el hosco cerco
de la selva cerrada,
cerrada como los oídos
y los caletres de la gente tonta y chata?
Le oyera la selva, le oyera
si a gritos cantara
-tal el viento y al modo de la tormenta:
pero canta muy paso: si -a veces-
su canción es callada,
muda, como los ojos abiertos,
húmedos... que no dicen palabra.
¿Le oyera la noche, de tibias
estrellas colmadas las sienes,
de tibias estrellas estigmatizada?
¿Vestida de ***** suntuoso
le oyera la noche trágica
cuando el vocerío del trueno
y el zig-zaguear de los relámpagos?
¿Le oyera la noche tácita
cuando con paso desfalleciente
cruza sus sendas la luna alunada?
¿Le oyeras tú, la mujer ilusoria
de ojos sombríos y boca macerada?
Ni la noche, ni la selva le oía,
ni tú, ni nadie, ni nada!
Cantaba.
El mismo no se oía
la canción que cantaba.
810
What I cannot find… but am determined… to get back to…
Is not to be confused with
Flavor…
Like hot sauce or vanilla… which can be found at any market…
No…
What I seem to have misplaced is
My Flava
Spelled F-L-A-V-A
And is one of a kind… gifted to me only…
Not to be confused with any other FLAVA
Cuz it is mine…
And without it…
Can barely string a sentence together… and am lost…
As from this springs my issue… and
Without my issue… just don’t know…
Whether to rhyme or to flow…
Wax melodic or staccato…
Iambic pentameter to coax you to
Come with / me and / be my / love…No- wait...
That’s not it at all-
Have no need of
You being my love… or loving my being…
Which is where FLAVA comes in…
Cuz FLAVA don’t give a ****
Flava just is…
Unlike consciousness…
Or the awareness of one’s own
Existence…that just wants not to be a
Casualty… and die with the other dead ones…
Who were (by the way) dead long before they
Resigned themselves to undertake the responsibility
Of laying the hell down…
But FLAVA…
FLAVA cannot die… so
I know it’s there… it’s just…
Hiding subliminally…
Under some old debris…
Beneath the ruins of what used to be me…and
When I find it…will then add some FLAVOR
(not to be confused with FLAVA)
…sprinkle some Cayenne Pepper… make it even HOTTER
…fold in some Cinnamon… make it even SEXIER… and
Stir and season…
‘til it feels like ME again…
One of a kind FLAVA…
Gifted to me only…
Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is mine…
Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is me…
Gotta get back to me…
.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 9:27 AM UTC
rapping with rappers on the radio
filling the gaps with extra lyric
mapping the sappy way they pretend
and offering 16 beats a breath like a boss
rick ross looks lost when handed floss
and jay z is crazy lazy in May, maybe cause Beyoncé’s
bounce house lacks compressed air
and the weave in her hair ads to the growing despair
like Dr. Dre cares about flared out khakis while Rakeem’s
grill gleams like flava flavs time piece –
b-boy stylin while in the dance hall
and balla’s with creased collars
throw dolla’s at bithces locked in the twerk
jerkin off in the corner lil kim seems thin
since aids came to play
and fat joe and heavy d sit with harps
lookin down at the crowd jumpin around
they floatin on **** clouds proudly
snoop’s pound frowns at clowns
tryin to be down
but really just hangin around
like the Mississippi mounds
poundin ***** like Tupac on acid
and that lil goblin from hotlanta
actin like he steady mobbing
they robbin the hood for goods and services
while talking **** to easily impressed suburb kids
acting like they got a message
but only KRS got anything to say
and that was just the one time
chuck d and that insane griff
talkin mad crap about gay rappers
and casting couch happenings
has me reacting like maybe I need to a new faction
cause I ain’t into none of eminem’s new action
and poor ole busta
nuts bein busted
in those funky *** dreads –
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
¿Qué flauta sin flautista canta al día,
desde la cima de su luz difusa?
Aquí, brumosa orquídea de medusa.
Allá albor inicial y melodía.
Junto a mi corazón la dura vía
por donde vas y vuelves. La confusa
ruta y maraña. La doliente, ilusa
presencia de tu ensueño y mediodía
La esmeralda flameante en la mañana,
la rosa casta de reciente grana,
el girasol de flava arquitectura,
la tarde apaga. Pero tú regresas
y en la mano de fiebre que me besas
está, brasa secreta, la ternura.
319
my life has changed forever
from normal, my everyday life now does sever
july 4th weekend, fireworks were going off inside of me
my racing heart had finally brought me to bended knee
afib, supraventricular tachycardia...
congestive heart failure was my flava'
rushed to the icu...
sign these here papers the doctor asked me to do
we've exhausted all medicines, all of them we've went through
i ask, can i call my wife in case i never speak to her again
there was no answer, it was the most scared and alone i ever felt then
icu doctors huddled and staring at me like i am a mystery
they shock me and send thousands of volts of electricity through me
the paddles burn and welt
my chest and back
my room filled with chaos it certainly did not lack
bells and alarms made my ears want to cry
lying there thinking....it was my time to die.
'Yours and everyone's concrete poet Part Deux'
👷🏻♂️
Aug 12, 2020
Aug 12, 2020 at 7:29 AM UTC
The styles ferocious,
Infamous, plus the lyrics is stainless,
Take shots at me,
But ya aimless,
As I caress earlobes, explore the globes,
Got my raps heard in ya abode,
See me explode,
On contact the rap habitat,
Trained for combat,
Ninja suits stacked, with thirty million killers
In the back,
Imagine that,
All races united with the black,
Iron fist got y'all bumpin' this,
Cruising to this,
Number one spot ludicrous,
Plus the conflict, is crucial,
Chemical gems to boost you,
Induce you,
To the flava of the century, mix master brewery,
Shine like jewelry reflecting of the sun B,
Come take a ride with me,
Glance the imagery of the city,
Night life thrills,
Keep at least three stacks on the bill, for real,
Haters chill,
We got no time to break ill,
Jan 31, 2023
Jan 31, 2023 at 11:18 AM UTC