Randomness

1. couldn't sleep much last night damn dreams were to vivid, so i turned to our past aim conversations to keep me company

2. masturbation no longer amuses me, i now do it out of routine (i just don't cum like i used to)

3. i'm falling in love with your awkwardness and finding beauty in your flaws, crazy but they compliment mines

4. i've cried twice in the last two weeks, sigh

5. tom ford nuff said (genius) i've developed a crush on this old white man

6. i miss our old aim conversations, they now feel empty and forced. somewhere between the first capitalized letter and the last period something went missing. i just don't have the strength to find out what it was.

7. today i promise to get a good read in my new book of choice "gentleman jigger"

8. i wish those shoes would have hit bush dead in his face, or that i was the lucky man to throw them lol

9. jazmine sullivans rendition of "round midnight" has been doing something to as of lately

10. i have a crush of one of my fellow blogger's words, they force me to think and to think uninhibitedly, is it possible to have a crush on ones pen?

11. for the record i've never considered myself a writer or a poet...

12. my sexuality has been questioned often times in the past, i feel that i should not be little my existence to something as small as human sexuality, so from now on i will just state that i'm merely attracted to people...

13. ny seems to be the piece of me that i've always felt was missing, this city makes me happy beyond measure at the times when i feel like i cant smile

14. i asked you how many others had occupied the space in your bed that i was finding comfort in, you told me not to worry, you had washed the sheets after they left and their stories had been erased, -well how many stories have you erased? as i figured you lost count, referencing the teachings of your mother who taught you to love through intermingled sheets, and to erase well wash those whose stories didn't end well.

15. i can't fault you because your a writer and like some many others i fell in love with words that carried some many meanings, my translated meaning not being one of those that mattered

16. why am i tip toeing around the notion of love as if i'm preparing to have an affair...

Lyric

i read her words before the ink got a chance to dry

glided sweaty fingers over them running the risk of smearing,

but it was well worth it for a chance to get to feel her

i'd found myself tracing lyrics written journey on many occasions

although i could never account for the last few years,

i knew she was a major part in mine

Lyric had a way of inspiring the uninspired with her words and syntactical execution

although she didn't know it lyric had me at hello way back in 2000 sophomore year,

next to the telephone booth in the main hallway,

the same booth and hallway that housed so many of my peers stories

back then Lyric was into he not i

but i still watched her in amazement

she began to bloom and as time moved on so did our friendship and my love for her pen
now days i catch myself at 3am sipping hot tea staring at a screen spued with her words hoping

i catch a glimpse of me intertwined in them...

i've masturbated at the thought of you

gripped head board

legs spread

tangled sheets

eyes closed

lip bit

hand going from my nipple

to my navel

to my thigh

and back

i've repeated this journey several times

my hands have caressed ever inch of my body

i felt bolts as if you had caressed every inch of my body

i tensed in ecstacy as if you were caressing every inch of my body

in the end finding the source of my internal fire

and so with thoughts of you

i constructively caressed my lingman

i adjusted mirrors

so i could see me pleasing me

thinking of you

i wanted to become a voyeur of my own thoughts

obsessive

i seen with new eyes every time they opened

silhouettic images of you danced

at the flicker of the candle on my nightstand

i'd summoned you

head thrown back in ecstacy

i'd called out your name as if you could hear me

i closed my eyes a tear fell as i prayed to God

that you could

i'd turned my phone on loud

in hopes that he heard the preys

of my sexual frustration

and you would call......

and so i write

i do not mean

to exploit our relationship

all i have is my pen,

my 24yr old rugged tablet

and a constant reminder

of you tatted on the inner fold

of my hand between thumb and pointer finger

and so i write.......................

Today i realized that if i can't have you to myself
i'd rather be in your presence as an observer

choosing to stay stagnate

and watch as you continue to live

and i merely exist and slowly dwindle away.............

We made LOVE

We made love to the rhythm of Baracks victory, and dedicated it to our grandmothers and grandfathers who learned to love through depressions. Sweating out slave trades, blood soiled grounds,Mississippi trees and there strange fruits,the molestation of our culture as well as our queens, jim crow laws, needles placed placed in our hands to do destruction,flooded lands, and fallen towers we did this as a promise to our kids and our kids kids that they'd have there chance, we made love to let them know we would never turn back, never allow the depletion of our people happen again and just as God promised never to flood these lands again we promised never to hold our heads down for we have to much to keep our heads up for, made love so that our country could hear us so that she knows we will not let her forget our past but we would continue molding her future, we made love to drown out the horrid sound of bush politics. We made Loveand with each thrust and asthmatic breath we blessed our beloved country, thanked her for the blood, sweat, and tears that made us who we are, we told her to keep her forty acres and her old rugged mule,because we don't want it, we told her this time we'd willing allow the erection of the foundation of her new land to happen on our backs because we see it needs our strength. We made love. And just we emptied ourselves of life forms we called out the most highs name and thanked him, for we knew he was pleased and blessed our love. We found sweet slumber in front of a fire place in Harlemand we began to dream in color, in unison and in those dreams we continued to make LOVE!

ReBirth

I've decided that its ok to stand in the rain and mourn the loss of what we've grown to know as us , that way my tears will be unseen
and if at some point it thunders I will cry out at the top of my lungs for they will go unheard.
I've decided to allow my self exactly 2 min and 55 sec mourn,
that's how long it took for the twinkle in your eye to catch me.
And if at some point I'm interrupted I will act as if I'm lost...or maybe even crazy,
I will go on this tangent on how I allowed a foreign country to invade and take over my soul,
how foreign polices had been changed,
I will tell of how the temple for which I once worshiped was wired with explosives and blown up once the foreign country decided to leave,
and because of this it will forever dawn a under construction sign to hide its shame from the public eye,
I will speak of the brown eye, nappy headed Lil black boy who walks around aimlessly in the rain eyes squinted and mouth wide open mute to the world only God can hear his cries, his hands gone they were severed by the foreigner so he can no longer write,
castrated he bleeds his man hood taken as a souvenir...
I am that boy, and just as Mississippi trees bear strange fruit I hang there,
ground zero waddling in the debry from the destruction of I,
waiting praying on this foreigners return hoping it will be to make mends,
to rebuild my country,
to lay the foundation for the erection of my temple,
so one day I will be able to worship again,
be able to not hold my head down ashamed to open its doors
and allow another to worship with me.
I will,
I Lil black boy lost will mourn
But only for those 2 min and 55 sec...

winter's end...

And so it begins that today marked the end.

This harsh reality hit as I sat legs stretched out staring out frost bitten window witnessing winters last defeat over my favorite tree

Between sades song for Jezebel and discussions of James Allen as a man thinketh.

It was in these most sincere moments that I realized the end of this tantrick affair was quickly approaching.

And I had yet to come to grips with it, I've given myself the before you leave you must know speech over over but it just won't work.

So I've decided that I refuse to tell you that you'll be missed because missing you is not an option, it will mean that I've aloud you to completely leave.

I've decided that I will keeps pieces of you tuck away in my minds secret folds for they will keep me comfort in my times of need or want...

every time I go to dial your number in hopes that we can share a bed for the night, they will embrace me...

every time I'm on the street see someone who reminds me of you and part my lips to call your name,they to will be there...

every time I find myself myself waking in a cold sweat hand cradling an erect dick,they will be bedded with me...

every time I find myself making tea in the wee hours of the night and watching the dry ass humor of Frasier, there they will be...

and every time it may end with me realizing that these pieces of you are just distant memories, and frustration may quickly come in but I will have...

So I still have you.

So Winter here is to our last dance for now, Although I look forward to the coming and Spring

I will wait silently for your return...

He

As he entered the library, he captured my eye and that part of my mind that wonders. Funny, I had no business looking up from my book being that it was finals and what not, but my mind was on over load and I was feeling a bit horny, studying does that to me. Crazy things is as he walked he seemed as if he command the ground under him to move with his every step so he more like glided in. I tried to re focus and divert my eyes but they wouldn't move they were glued and by time I realized this he met my stare and at that point it seemed as if we read each others stories he was confident with my interest in he, yet I wasn't for I had a girlfriend and had never looked twice at anything that didn't have a pussy, but there I was and although I looked only once its that one moment that lasted a lifetime. As we stared time slowed down and and tunnel vision set in, it was just he and I in a room filled with books, knowledge is the greatest turn on. My dick strained against my zipper begging to be released from its denim prison, but I could not transcend. I could see the imprint of his manhood through his chinos, and from where I was sitting it was quite evident that his length defied the 12 inch ruler, that plus its girth made the, until then myth of the big black dick exist. I was stuck, stuck in a trance that I was becoming more comfortable with by the minute. He steps to my table and I see that his eyes are the color of amber, I looked down at his lips, they were full much like my mind, full of thoughts never had before. As I stare they part and words escape "What up I am He and you would be?" he offered his hand, I extended mine, we touched. It was soft, yet firm. My lips parted no words, then a stutter, I then answered "confused, I mean Jamal, my name is Jamal." And thus began the poetic journey of He and I...

Dear Winter

Dear Winter, I've grown to love your cold shoulders touch and although I look forward to the coming of spring I will forever cherish the late nights of Frasier, hot tea, slices of artificial sweet potato pie and sex glistened nights in front of open fires.

Winter

She and I connected between the second verse of the third song and by the songs end we sat there all eyes mentally nude. Discomfort vividly affected her positioning, I told her to relax and assured her that I would take her insecurities and place them in the highest darkest place in my closet, next to my fathers pornos. They being the end of his freedom so he says, would keep the destruction of her beauty company, for they would never see the eyes of any but mine again. She told me that she would take my arrogance and tuck it in her great grandmothers mink in the attic and pray that its humbleness rub off on it. I smirked for I knew that it was that same arrogance that bought us both together. Said it was something about my fuck the world attitude that kept her intrigued.

Over tea we discussed life's politics: Obama vs. Clinton her defending Clinton's animalistic go straight for the throat tactics and I proclaiming that its time that the white house be painted black, I defended a god who hung on a piece of wood that tended to frustrate the intelligence and her stating that the same "all knowing", "all loving" man was a hoax, a joke, because it would have been he who took her parents from her at the age of 7, leaving her to be raised by her grandmother and the streets.

We talked love of slices of sweet potato pie, she told me that she could see herself loving me, I told her don't, to blind that love, because with love comes expectations and expectations bring disappointment and I would hate to disappoint. So we agreed to set those feelings aside and live only in the now. She assured me that she would teach me to love without disappointment, I smirked and ate the crust.

We blueprinted our plans for a family, adoption she stated was part of her destiny, for there were to many tribes of fatherless children in the world that needed our love. So we on an african male and an asian female to represent both of our ancestry.

Over a sink of dishes she explained why the caged bird sings, and between intermingled hands in suded water and playful bubble fights we'd glance at the clock on the wall for we knew that time was not willing to wait for us. And for a split second my faces showed discomfort for the thought of depression that was destined to set in during her absence.

We made love in front of an open fire in the middle of May to remind us of what we decided would be our favorite season WINTER. And as our world clashed and we emptied ourselves of our life forms, I decided that that would be her name. I told her that I would tattoo it on the the inner folds of my right hand between my thumb and my index finger, so that every time I went to write I would think of her. ......And as we layed sex glistened we say that May will forever be the coldest winter ever.