Hip Hop

“So when did you fall in love with hip-hop?” my brown sugar we fell for each other….like a missed a step in a game of hopscotch I fell for hip hop.  My ears tend to listen to other pretentious women…her competition….she soothes the soul of the most cold heartened villains. Love sick melodies tango with sheets of music creating the perfect melody to the instrumentals of the heart.  I love her curves…the way she changes her tempo….the way she arranges her chords and her VST’s….her simplicity the art of storytelling numbs me.  “ So when did you fall in love with hip hop?”

Just Us

A dynamic duo; my partner in crime....a falling star saved by the wings of a black angel we glide.  Our back bone consists of the fights and arguments...the late nights lying in bed hearing her weep because of me.  Frustrated feelings from both parties contemplating separation...aggravated fingers attempt to transfer feelings and emotions onto thin blue lines that make up the topography of college rule paper.  Poems express our real life issues...no over exaggerated punch lines, just raw thoughts about the life of two people and a man that loves a woman that is working on her issues...all while taming a man with issues of his own.  Through the years we have grown and our souls have merged and our future becomes more and more sketched in stone.

Selfie

Selfie sticks and bathroom pics… social media have made it easier for the Trojan horse to infiltrate and project a picture that doesn’t have to be.  Women find themselves slave to a program that allows that somebody to become a nobody and where men quench their thirst feeding the ego of a persona that shouldn’t exist.  The watered down version of today’s woman has water logged the seed that was sewn and has not come to harvest.  Women are to get back to the carbon copy of the original queens…where self worth was a staple and the representation of themselves was worth more than the gold that they wore and they represented their kings well. 

Ominous

This side of me lurks in the shadows of the demonic part of my soul that holds the key to unleashing the one I call the other.  Flashing its winning smile making a mockery of the jokers smile it puts me in my comfort zone.  Going to that dark place makes me feel at home….alone in the dark left with my cynical thoughts…it plagues the part and plays the part of me that is usually at the forefront.  No gut instincts, it takes away the ability to rationalize my thoughts…the light is mind provoking and tries to creep in the unsystematic cracks that highlights the flaws of who really resides in me.  Flight or fight he resorts to fight, impervious to the numerous attempts by the force that supposed to overcome the darkness……the light has ultimately failed.  Some call him their alter ego…some may even call him the devil….I place him on a different level….like a rabbit dog without a muzzle it seeks and destroys but employs a certain wisdom not understood but to the vessel that harbors this beast.  The darkness lurks in the crevices of the folds in the wings of angels and is flushed out by the wind with every beat of their wings.  This is my other half…accepted but not embraced…prayed about but can’t be erased….this is me...

6 A.M. in D.C.

It’s 6 am Saturday morning and the sun stretches its rays up from under the comfort of the clouds and seemingly peeks through the cracks of the shades illuminating the pigment of her skin tone.  My hands seek out a place to play as you lay and let the sun’s rays demonstrate seduction. 

No work for you today its all play; I give you a gentle shake at the shoulder.  A smile greets me as she reaches for the roll up and lighter.  We spark the leafy substance that gets the juices flowing as our minds surf in and out of the weed clouds.  Silk sheets stimulate blood flow and helps release the chemicals in the body responsible for the urge to devour every square inch of her soul.

I kiss her slow but I’m currently in negotiations with my heart to beat slow….it races juiced up on adrenalin as I slide in and get cozy….my soul wants to be nosey and butt in the conversation between our hearts as they passionately converse in their native language.  Eyes lock like there’s a personal vendetta as I feel her getting wetter the climax gets better. 

She begs to make her sweat but doesn’t want to get her hair wet….in this game of S.E.X its no holds bar let’s not forget.  The fragrance of passion fills the room as the hour hand creeps into the afternoon and in that moment with the eruption of rooted emotions surface and show face and her face is painted with satisfaction