he starts the music

see him

want to speak him

he starts the music

where’s my microphone

leather jacket wrapping

look at the lips

the teeth

the eyes

his wine

fragrant with a million men

hosed and sprayed against the wall

he doesn’t fall

and fails to fold

hard he ripples

fist fastidious it did wave

look at his  arm cut and suave

it grows from his scalp in twines and sage

I want to talk of him

he who can not be squared

appears through smoke drapes undisputed

must speak him

he starts the music

where’s my microphone

Quotation marks

Let me break this down so that it can be forever and consistently broke, (I’ve been waiting for a chance to say that) besides I have always had a Jones for Isaiah Washington. When I do this stuff it is like the clothes that don’t have a chance to cool in my closet with the tags… before hot on my runway, a garment that is dying to hang on me cause I’m gone take it to task and then I think, “Ya’ll better be glad I’m still struggling at the reservation and I don’t have Tyler Perry money, (Actually his money isn’t necessary). How about someone bought me lottery tickets as a gift and I scratched myself some extra change. Sister’s pride and envy wouldn’t be able to take the “galore” I have aimed, cocked and ready to spray from arsenals, (Let’s not be mistaken. I don’t own any authentic weapons and these “arsenals” aren’t real. It is just a metaphor sir…it’s just a metaphor) but man it hurt and stunned, thinking about my men relatives, (Have they had, “the talk”) and while they are 30-ish year old men, I’m going to type out multiple text and send, chase with obeisance to discuss there not be a repetition of 5 in one week cause it seemed that way, please not even a month) so GOD grant me the shoes so that I keep on walking cause when I’m done you will continue being the ONLY, ultimately the one to break it down so that it will be forever and consistently… broke (love that part).

so saddity (arrogance)

so arrogant

as if premier chosen
scraped knuckles bent
white nails
okay maybe beige
fingers arched in the throes
hearts thrashing
liquid beads flinging
up all night
but you

so arrogant

scribe upon shoulders
gradually cranked
by a lever from uppity neurons
get a lil’ more acclaim
we all gone be insane
ill from the point of your nose
lookin down
on the criminally novice
first timer’s baring honesty
it’s your brilliance
got you too smart
it’s your timing
got your mass swollen
it’s the worship of pagans
got you too inflated
it’s the caliber of ink
got you
you without hint
can’t see through visor
gold encrusted lashes

groupie by definition
your own magic

yeah you prodigy
but it isn’t your planet

so arrogant

 

security for the half (of two)

expressfully you don’t regard the name Shirley

incidentally, I am far from one so infamous

prefer to derive my queue for a companion from another heaven’s source

not other peoples porches and do take a plethora of notes

use as quote for the next caravan of notions

devoted to implications and suspicions without proof

taken to indignations and rants…

not the sort bending toward desperation

thirsting for someone else’s gentlemen’s suit

there’ll be blue today

as I woke up pining

the things in this room that need painting

addressing colors of a hint of transparency and explanation

as I walk into an extension of lodging there is sighing

what about that window peering back at me

with scenery of complacency

things tardy not at my mandate

it was of the impression I am Napoleon here but then

I shake the slumber from reasoning

remembering myself further from first than appearing

and here I stand in my rain argentine

wishing on the brevity of the yore

herculean the swiftly changing

collecting parallels between dizzy beams of yesterday

amusement of a view seconds ago

there’s appraisal of a countenance not near the same

no one holding on to flashing labels only aliases

there keeps coming saltatory with no end

to dance upon those times in this frame