“I like you, liking me like you”

if good pussy were good penmanship
i’d pray over the mailbox
that inside would be a handwritten post card from you
if neck kisses were breakfast pancakes and syrup
you would have to get a gym membership
to keep from getting obese & reduce the risk of diabetes
if love is truly the answer
we should go on Jeopardy
get filthy rich and move away together.
because I love you
like fat asses love couches
we belong together
like Spongebob and Patrick
like hot sauce and fried chicken
like Trump supporters and swastikas
you are everything to me
trembling fingers and pulsating
wide open
Netflix and chill spaces
you make it hard
to say what I mean when I mean what I say
because sometimes I say things that I don’t mean
but I mean to tell you everything
you want to know if you know what I mean
take it easy or get it rough
bent and hair pulling
whichever you prefer
whenever you need it
I need you like
octagons need acute angles
you look cute in that dress
with no make up
we should make love
to slow jams between bed sheets
like sheet music you set my key
unlock the door to your heart strings
and I will play with your g chord
make you music
to dance to then lay there beside you
till we both fall asleep…

11/2/2016 waiting for it all to be OVER

the guns run the streets now
like they always did
the devil wears True Religion
the exits smell like preconceived notions
He said, “Fuck voting, they don’t count us”
though I tried to convince him differently
he sees through my uncertainty.
Hopes for Change are illusions
to keep the martinets dancing
want to cut my strings
run for the horizon
but they have church on Wednesday
trying to find a heaven I can’t see
while suffering the burns,
cuffs, and shame of delusions
if you catch me crying
at the polling place
ignore my emotions
wait your turn and cast your ballot
we will worry about the math
after the dance
but if you aren’t in the building
during the raffle you can’t get the prize.

“still suffering” or “comparing captivity”

traded chains for mandatory sentences
nooses and bullets for more nooses and bullets
the God in the index is not the same God in the text
proud eyes are dangerous
dignified is boring
more & better drugs make you magical

cotton, sugar, cocoa, and tobacco
crew neck tees, fructose, cocaine, and Swisters
nothing changed but the packages

the prison cells are slave ship quarters close
the belly changed
same ole beast

they are hunting free negros
under neath skyscrapers
these gallow trees
sway slower
even though the slave catchers dress the same
they still ride horses
kill without warning
and seldom call you by your proper name

we are playing different music to the same old beat
catching the same ole beatings
under the same ole sky.

Gabby’s Compact or Olympic Make-Up bags

the quadriceps contract
lightning flashes as gravity submits
glittering mesmerizing flases of limelight
feet together hands above our heads
perfection in balancing acts
somewhere in the sacrifice of regiment
she forgot how shallow the looking glass
makes the demons with bright eyes
who think vanity is legal tender

before the auction block or the crucifixion of the innocent
they first straighten your crown
Cesar buried at the foot of Pompey
presentable for your new master
though you can’t live in sandcastles
the realtor will try to sell you on location

don’t believe them
when they tell you about things
they know nothing of
like scientist who explain away God
with the Laws of nature

they will never understand their foolishness
do not submit to it
you were always perfect
no matter how much practice it took to get there
don’t let the castanets
drown out the anthem

they will always find something
to make you human again
false idols of demigods statues
lesser elements can’t lecture bricks of Gold
you are living out your dreams
stay awake
enjoy every moment
don’t ever let the devil have your joy

to the girl “nodding out” in front of Poets Monday

a nebula of star dust.
the glitter of broken glass & cigarette butts
she is a swaying pendulum
each oscillation a genuflect
to a white horse drawing a train wreck closer.
back and forth
from car windows to inconspicuous gangways
the needle leaves a scar
a port-a-pottie confessional
a intersession prayer to St. Jude
the shit and blood pisses off the angels.
the pricks and plunger
shards of Challenger windshield glass
she exposes her circulatory system to disaster
wreaks of victim and crime scene.

the steps leading to the side bar
her dingy brunette locs
open purse & vulgar pursuits.

at the gates of hell fire
she is an exorcism waiting to happen
either by casket or behavior modification.
her story full of endings
at the beginning of life
chasing the dragon & hunting for more sky
you can’t climb higher
only closer to your catastrophe
simpleton, runaway, fool.
you can’t hide inside yourself
everywhere you look
you are already there.

be cautious
this close to the concrete forest
the sharks smell blood
before it dries on the needle tip
are waiting for skyward eyes
for they never see the weapon
till the wound is wide open,
honor is obliterated,
and the last few singles
have been excavated from the remains.


Wonder if the concrete shivers

Under the weight of the Purple Rain

wonder if they will have a moratorium

on the chemtrails

for at least 48 hours


you having just been given possession

of your God body

wonder if I will always believe they took you

they take so much from us

take our Mother Moses and make her into idol

take our idols and turn them white


they can not have you brother

these things you didPrince

belong to us

you were, are, and always will be a Prince

with diamonds and pearls glistening

will always walk that thin line

between real and fairytale


a creation of creativity

a mountain surrounded by hills

in a valley of purple flowers

dancing till the ground submits

to the power inside your chord progression

a minster to the soul of less fortunate souls

that didn’t have the words

God gave to you

to give to us

So we wouldn’t feel so alone


We will grieve you alone

And together

But the music will cry itself to sleep…

“black wishes matter…”

passed a wishing well
considered diving in
filling my pockets with water & wishes

was thirsty, hung over,
in desperate need of sustenance
just a smidgen of glistening magic

the twinkle of the nickels & dimes
sparkled among the evidence of lesser wishes
even in wishing wells
the brown ones get less attention

decided against jumping in the water
too many eyes
the drenching wet negro isn’t hard to catch
on a fall afternoon
being inconspicuous is important
when doing the devils work
unless you work for the state…